He didn’t quite have the energy he’d had before, but I hoped he would still be up for talking if I asked any of the million questions that had piled up in my head since meeting the guy. I waited until he’d had a couple of bites of pancake, and then I said, “Why are you so against getting a dog, anyway? I’m pretty sure Brennon wouldn’t mind having one around.”
He shrugged as he chewed some bacon. “It seems like overkill, if you ask me.”
Interesting. “Why?” I asked. “A dog could help you cross the street, at the very least, and they’re trained to—”
“Do you know how much one of those things costs?” Steve asked, dropping his fork as he stared toward me. “Not to mention the waiting list, and the training, and the city ordinances, and the fact that I don’t actually need one.”
I highly doubted that last one, but I had a feeling this was an argument I wouldn’t win. He had clearly looked into it and decided it wasn’t an option, even if he thought he could use the help. Why couldn’t he just say he had tried instead of getting so uppity? Steve was an enigma for sure, and a large part of me really wanted to try to figure him out. After all, what else was I going to do all week?
I had to focus back on priorities, though, and make sure he ate.
“These pancakes are delicious,” I said and made a show of taking a bite.
He got the hint, though he rolled his eyes as he followed suit. He grumbled something in between bites that sounded like, “You’re worse than Brennon,” and I took that as a compliment.
“So why did you get up so early?” I asked him. I was still tempted to go back to sleep, but since Steve was up and about, that probably wasn’t an option.
“You’re just full of questions this morning,” he grumbled back, pushing a bit of pancake around the syrup on his plate.
“Questions that need answers,” I replied.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Was it my snoring?” I asked. Steve raised an eyebrow, and I grinned. “Brennon can’t stand it apparently, so he sleeps on the couch.”
“Brennon is too much of a gentleman for his own good,” Steve mumbled.
Yeah, and I loved that about him. “Why are you so determined to corrupt him?” I asked. One of the first things Steve had said to me was about how disappointed he was that Brennon wasn’t a pig, and that didn’t exactly do any favors for Steve’s character.
Rolling his eyes again, he took another bite of eggs. “You can’t honestly think I actually want Bren to be a tool, can you? He’s so good that he makes the rest of us look bad. He’s been that way since the day I met him freshman year, and if I didn’t love the guy, I would seriously hate him.”
“So you’re trying to take down the competition a peg,” I surmised. Not that Steve could really compete at this point with his perpetual grumpiness, so I couldn’t see why he would even bother. Besides, Brennon Ashworth was in a league of his own. “Not gonna lie, I’m having a hard time convincing myself Brennon is even real.”
Snorting a laugh, Steve shook his head. “You and me both,” he muttered. “I’ve known the man for thirteen years, and I still haven’t figured him out.”
This was probably a terrible idea, but I couldn’t help myself. “You wouldn’t happen to know who the girl is in the picture on his nightstand, would you?” I said then winced, waiting for Steve to tell me it was his girlfriend, even though I would be stupid to think Brennon could be the sort of guy who cheated on someone. The picture was too old for that, anyway.
But Steve frowned. “Picture on his nightstand? No idea. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him put a picture anywhere aside from one of his parents. What does she look like?”
Honestly, I’d been avoiding the picture ever since that first time I saw it, but that didn’t mean the girl wasn’t fully ingrained in my memory. Clearly she was important to Brennon, but I had no idea what that meant. “She looks a lot like me,” I said with a shrug.
“Because that helps me out so much,” he replied roughly, and then he set his fork on his plate and stood. Apparently the conversation was over. Maybe one of these days I would teach him how to actually end a conversation instead of just walking away. But at least he had stayed long enough to eat all his food, so I was making progress, if only a little.
“Thanks for breakfast,” I told him. “I can clean up, if you’d like.”
He paused near the couch, turning his head so one ear was pointing back at me. “That would be nice,” he admitted quietly. “I have a bit of a headache, so I should probably lie down for a bit.”
“A headache?” I couldn’t fully disguise my worry, and Steve definitely heard it.
“I’m fine,” he said, obviously annoyed as he made his way to his bedroom and shut the door.
Hopefully that didn’t mean extra grumpy Steve was back, but it did mean I had another morning all to myself, and I had no idea how I was going to stave off the boredom this time. At least I finally had a mess to clean up in the kitchen. And maybe I could make up a menu for the rest of the week too. While I didn’t know for sure if Steve really did have a problem with eating, he was right about eating the other night when I made the chicken. If I could keep making him more dishes like that, things that surprised and excited him, maybe I could get some meat on his bones.
And maybe I could get some life back into his life. I may not have had my own life put together anymore, but maybe I could help him out with his. Between the two of us, at least one of us deserved something good.
* * *
I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until my phone woke me up, Brennon’s name on the screen and my heart skipping a little faster in excitement. Setting aside the book I had tried—and apparently failed—reading, I sat up on Brennon’s bed and lifted the phone to my ear.
“Hey,” I said, smiling to myself.
“Hey,” he replied, and I could almost hear his own smile. “I was sitting here eating lunch all by myself like usual, and I decided I didn’t want to wait until tonight to talk to you.”
I felt very proud for managing to keep my squeal an internal one. He was seriously good at this sweet talk thing. “Is that so?” I asked. “Am I really so fun to talk to?”
“So much better than these bozos here at the office. All they can talk about is baseball and money.”
“You realize you’re saying that to a financial analyst, right? And a Red Sox fan.”
He laughed, making me so glad I didn’t have to wait until tonight either. I didn’t know much about Brennon Ashworth, but I did know I liked him. Probably a little too much, even with that photo of him and the girl sitting on the nightstand next to me. Whoever she was, she probably didn’t get lunchtime phone calls. That was good enough for me.
“Former financial analyst,” he corrected. “I can’t do anything about your taste in sports, but the offer still stands to come work with me, you know.”
That idea was a lot more tempting than it had been on Sunday, but I really didn’t have a strong background in stocks. I doubted I was truly qualified, even if he had some sort of influence in his office. Besides, I wanted something more fulfilling. That was the point. “Thanks,” I told him, “but I’ll leave that to you. I have to find my new dream before I can make any decisions like that.”
“You are an inspiration, Lissa. I wish I had that kind of courage. You know, to wait for the right thing instead of going for the first choice I come across.”
My heart sank a little, though I wasn’t sure why, and I glanced at the photograph again. At some point I would have to ask Brennon about her, though I didn’t know how long it would take me to work up the courage. For all I knew, she was the love of his life and had disappeared.
Just as I was about to shift the conversation to an easier topic, a shadow crossed the doorway—Steve heading out into the main room. “Hey,” I said into the phone, quickly scooting off the bed so I could follow, “I’m so glad you called me, and tonight feels like a really long time away, but I should make som
e lunch before Steve makes another mess out in the kitchen.”
“Another mess?” Brennon sounded worried. “What did he do this morning?”
Something I never would have expected, but I had a feeling Brennon wouldn’t consider pancakes an accomplishment. “Nothing,” I replied quickly. “I’ll see you later.”
Hurrying down the hall, I slid a bit on the hardwood and to Steve’s side just as he pulled open a cupboard in search of food. He cursed in alarm and stepped back, knocking his shoulder into some hanging wine glasses beneath the cupboard and sending one of them crashing down to the edge of the counter, where it immediately shattered. His next step back to steady himself brought his socked foot down onto a piece of glass, so he lifted it back up but managed to lose his footing, slipping and landing on his rear end with a grunt as his phone went flying, bringing his earbuds with it.
“What is wrong with you, woman!” he shouted as soon as the proverbial dust settled.
I clapped my hand over my mouth, partly in horror for causing all of that but mostly to stop myself from laughing. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered down to him. “I thought for sure you heard me.”
“Headphones,” he grunted, still sitting where he’d landed as his whole face burned red.
Poor guy. He probably still wasn’t used to anyone being at the apartment with him, and I’d gone and scared the bejeebers out of him. “How did you even know I was here?” I asked, still on the verge of laughing. Could he have been any more over-the-top with his reaction? Probably not.
Grabbing the counter above him, he pulled himself to his feet and quickly distanced himself from the broken glass and more importantly me. “Movement,” he said roughly, wrapping an arm around his ribs. “Seriously, what is wrong with you?”
I just shook my head. “So many things,” I said. “What were you listening to that was so enthralling?”
He glanced around him, likely searching for his lost phone, and I quickly moved around the counter and scooped it up for him, though he jumped again when I appeared on his other side. “Stop doing that,” he begged, though he relaxed a bit when I set the phone in his hands and managed a mumbled, “Thanks.”
“I’m going to clean this up,” I told him, “and you’re going to sit down while I make some lunch. It’s probably safer that way.”
Apparently he agreed, because he headed straight for the couch. His limp was worse, I noticed, his injured knee probably damaged more by his sudden fall in the kitchen, and every breath seemed to cause him pain as his bruised ribs protested his hard landing. He’d been so good at hiding his pain before that I’d almost forgotten he’d been hit by a car just a couple of days ago.
“Sorry,” I said again, this time more sincere. “I didn’t scare you on purpose.”
“I know,” he grunted.
Finding a hand broom beneath the kitchen sink, I quickly swept up all the offending glass and dumped it in the garbage. Then I swept again, just in case. Brennon and I might have caught a piece or two before we stepped on it, but there was no way Steve would have been able to avoid it. Hopefully he hadn’t cut himself when stepping on it before and his reaction was just reflex, not because of actual pain. I’d done enough damage already.
“Books,” Steve said when I straightened back up once I was convinced the floor was glass-free.
I pulled my eyebrows together. “What?”
He held up his phone and the earbuds dangling from it, though he hadn’t put them back in his ears. “I listen to books. As many as I can.”
Oh. “Because you can’t read them,” I realized out loud. So it wasn’t music he wasted time with, but books, which weren’t a waste of time at all.
Nodding, he wrapped the earbuds around his phone then set it on the couch next to him. “I miss reading,” he admitted, and I felt a surge of pity for him. “Audiobooks are great, but they take too much time. Speed listening makes me dizzy.”
I knew very little about Steve Evans, but suddenly I wanted to know everything about pre-accident Steve and the life he lost when he lost his sight. “What are you listening to today?”
Hesitating, he massaged his knee for a moment then muttered, “Machiavelli again.”
Did he just say again? “Naturally,” I replied, glad he couldn’t see my awe. “I suppose you’ve listened to all the greats and classics, then?”
“Most of them,” he said without a pause.
Of course he had. “What’s your favorite?” Forget about lunch; I wanted to know what sort of book a man like him valued above all others. But because I’d already added enough trauma to the man’s life, I quickly started grabbing things to make sandwiches as I waited for his response.
“I’m not sure I have a favorite,” he said after giving it a moment’s thought. “Everything is worth learning, and after a year of listening to anything I can get my hands on…” He stopped himself, bowing his head. What was he hiding? Better yet, what had he been doing during the first year after his accident? He said it happened two years ago, and I was pretty sure he knew I caught the inconsistency.
I couldn’t help but wonder how much Brennon knew about what his friend had gone through over the last two years. With all the time he spent at his office, I wasn’t sure he knew much at all.
“I noticed you were reading,” Steve said after a moment of silence, the lightness in his voice forced and strained. But I would let him change the subject, because at least he was talking. I would take any improvement in his mood over the silent treatment. “Though it didn’t exactly sound like a page turner,” he added.
“The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People,” I replied, “though I keep falling asleep.”
He brightened just a bit, sitting up a little straighter in interest. “It’s a good one,” he said. “Maybe it’s easier to listen to. I have it, if you…”
Putting his sandwich on a plate, I crossed over to the couch and announced, “I’m sitting down,” before dropping onto the cushions and setting the plate in his hands.
“Ha,” he said but immediately took to examining the sandwich, lifting it close enough to his face to both see and smell it. I practically held my breath while I waited for him to either say something or start eating it. “What is this?” he finally asked, his wrinkled brow mixed with interest. “Salmon?”
“And dill,” I said. “It’s better with a different bread like pumpernickel, but I didn’t think to buy some when we were at the store yesterday, so you’ll have to endure some good old-fashioned whole wheat.”
He took a bite—a rather large one, I noticed with a smile—and chewed for a moment, even closing his eyes, probably so he could completely focus on the taste. “Is that lemon?” he asked in surprise. “On a sandwich?”
I couldn’t help but grin as he took another large bite. Maybe fattening him up wouldn’t be as hard as I thought. “It gives it a little flair, don’t you think?”
“Flair,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Here,” he added and handed me his phone. “If you want to listen to it. After you get your own lunch, of course.”
Huh. Steve Evans was certainly full of surprises, and I honestly couldn’t have said what it was exactly that brought my next sentence out of my mouth: “How about we listen to it together?”
It caught him so off guard that he smeared a bit of cream cheese in his beard when he turned to me. “Together?” he repeated, and I couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or pleased. Hopefully the second.
Returning to the kitchen, I fought to keep my smile out of my voice. “Sure,” I said. “Then you can explain anything I don’t understand, and I don’t have to feel bad for completely taking your books away from you for the afternoon.”
“Worse things have happened,” he muttered. When I glanced back at him, he sat on the couch with the smallest of smiles, the first real one I’d seen since that morning I met him.
As soon as I had a sandwich to munch on and Steve had a napkin, we settled side by side on the couch, each with an earbud, and star
ted the book.
Chapter Nine
I didn’t notice Brennon until he was practically right in front of us. Though my heart skittered with alarm—suddenly I wondered when I had started getting spooked so easily—it quickly pattered into an easy rhythm of familiar excitement at the sight of Brennon’s steely blue eyes and altogether handsomeness. “Brennon!” I greeted and pulled myself free from the earbud telling me to work to understand an individual’s interests and needs.
Brennon accepted my hug but only with one arm, and I found myself sinking into disappointment until I realized what he held in his left hand.
“Flowers?” I asked eagerly. I couldn’t even remember the last time someone had given me flowers at all, let alone a dozen roses. For a man who didn’t believe in love, he certainly understood the art of romance.
Smiling warmly, Brennon held the bouquet out to me then leaned forward to place a lingering kiss on my cheek. “You had me distracted all day,” he said softly, and his eyes twinkled enough that I wished I could say the same. Steve was right about the book, and I was so eager to keep listening and learning more that I had barely registered how dark it had gotten. The day had slipped away without me even noticing.
“Thank you for the flowers,” I replied, knowing it didn’t at all compare to his comment. I should add something more. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“So am I.” Slipping his hands around my waist, Brennon pulled me close.
I breathed in his scent, eager for his touch and his kiss, but then my eyes caught a large plastic bag on the counter. “What’s that?” I asked, wincing when I realized how quickly I broke his intense gaze.
With a sigh, Brennon smiled a little and stepped back. “I brought dinner,” he said.
“Oh.”
His face immediately fell, disappointment darkening his eyes as he said, “Sorry, I should have asked. You were so happy when I brought food last night, so I thought maybe… Do you even like Thai?”
In Front of Me Page 8
