Melina finished stapling the last round of chicken wire and smiled. “What color?”
“Tell you what. I’ll keep that a surprise.”
FIFTEEN
Joshua cleaned everything.
He picked up dirty laundry, loaded the dishwasher, straightened stacks of books and hung up the jacket he usually just tossed over the back of a chair.
Aussie paced in front of the coat closet where Joshua kept his leash, ready for their afternoon walk. “Let’s wait a little bit, OK?” Joshua said, and changed the towels in his bathroom.
In his bedroom, a telltale circular, hairy dent in the comforter of Joshua’s king-sized bed signaled Aussie’s favorite afternoon napping spot. Joshua pulled open the linen closet, grabbed his other set of sheets and changed the bed.
Just to be thorough. He dismissed the connotation in his head, even as it stirred him. It’s just dinner.
Back in the kitchen, Joshua sorted through his groceries, leaving some on the counter to chop and placing others in the refrigerator, including a bottle of wine. Aussie relaxed as Joshua’s mood calmed—he was in his element in the kitchen.
Soon, Joshua was ready with the mise en place, a fancy way of saying that the prep cooking was done. He planned to make Parmesan-crusted chicken breasts with marinara, Brussels sprouts with prosciutto and handmade pasta. He swirled eggs and flour into a dense dough, then rolled it out into thin sheets using a pasta attachment on his stand mixer, easily his favorite gadget in the kitchen.
Just as he was ready to cut the fettuccini, he heard a knock and his stomach knotted. There’s no reason to be nervous about this—it’s just Melina. But it was the first time she’d seen his apartment.
Joshua opened the door and was arrested, again, by her mouth curling in a smile.
“This is Chez Danford? I believe I have reservations,” Melina said, playing the part of a patron at an haute cuisine restaurant. “For two,” she added, and strolled in as Joshua swung the door wide.
Aussie was immediately at Melina’s side, rear planted firmly on the ground under a stern command from Joshua, his tail wagging exuberantly.
Melina patted Aussie’s head but didn’t bend down; she’d learned her lesson from his previous sloppy kiss. She seemed pleased to greet the mutt, Joshua observed happily, and he crowded closer to Melina to steal back her attention.
“May I take your coat, mademoiselle?” Joshua intoned in a goofy French accent, sliding his arms into her open coat and around her waist. He pulled her closer and then leaned down to buss both cheeks, as if giving a continental greeting.
Melina’s arms reached Joshua’s shoulders. “I think you can do better than that,” she said, daring him. Joshua needed no further invitation and kissed her as if it had been weeks since he’d last seen her.
Aussie watched, and waited.
And whined.
They broke apart and Melina regained her balance. “None for you, mister!” she told the dog cheerfully. Joshua hung up her coat as Melina settled on a bar stool opposite small bowls of ingredients. Long sheets of dough covered the counter.
“What’s all this?” she asked, gesturing to Joshua’s pasta-in-progress.
“Fettuccini—almost,” Joshua said. “Let me cut it down and then we can take Aussie for a spin around the block. That’s why he’s whining.”
Joshua switched his rolling attachment to a pasta cutter and guided the first sheet through, creating neat ribbons that dropped onto a waiting tray.
Melina was intrigued. She slid off her barstool and came around the counter, wrapping her arm around Joshua’s waist as she snuggled in to get a better view.
“I’ve never seen that done before,” Melina said. “My family always bought spaghetti in a bag, and there’s not much cooking you learn just from eating in restaurants.”
“I disagree,” said Joshua. “I get some of my best ideas from restaurants. I love seeing how they come up with different flavor combinations and I really like ordering something dynamite and then trying to copy it at home.”
He stepped to the side and offered Melina a sheet of dough. “You want to try?”
“I told you I don’t cook.” Melina bit her lip, intimidated by the kitchen contraption.
“Doesn’t matter,” Joshua encouraged her. “Don’t worry if it’s not perfect. You don’t have to be perfect around me.”
She took the translucent sheet from his hands and guided it into the machine.
“That’s good, hold up the back end, support it,” Joshua coached. “Good. Now you can finish dinner and I’ll see what’s on TV.” He moved to leave the kitchen and Melina caught him with wide eyes.
“You’re not serious. You’re not. Right?” she asked, stricken.
Joshua grinned. “Melina, while I’m certain there’s plenty you can learn, and be great at, in the kitchen, don’t worry. It’s my place and I invited you to dinner. It’s only fair if I do the cooking.”
Glancing at Aussie’s all-too-obvious position directly outside the coat closet, Joshua added, “Aussie needs a short walk and then I promise I’ll feed you.”
Joshua pulled on a hooded sweatshirt with the University of Washington’s large purple W on the front and held Melina’s jacket open for her. He grabbed the leash and the three of them were soon out in the last of Seattle’s evening light.
Three blocks and Aussie was in heaven, absorbing every smell in his path. Two blocks more and Aussie found relief on a small patch of grass. The sky darkened swiftly and rain looked like it would arrive sooner than forecast.
Joshua turned to Melina, about to comment on the change in the sky over Elliott Bay just as a fat drop landed on her head, sinking into her hair.
“Oh!” she said in surprise, as drops streaked Joshua’s heather-gray sweatshirt. “I think we’re going to pay for the extra time we spent making fettuccini.”
“And making out,” Joshua said, grinning. With one hand, he guided Aussie back toward the apartment, with the other hand, he held Melina’s. “We’d better move fast. There’s not a lot of cover between here and home.”
They picked up their pace as rain first spattered, then streamed. Thick strands of wet hair clung to Melina’s face and Joshua’s sweatshirt turned a dark, sodden gray by the time they’d found an awning, still two blocks from his apartment.
“I’m soaked,” Melina said, showing Joshua how water had seeped through the seams of her light coat. “I didn’t even think of an umbrella.”
Joshua had pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt, but it didn’t offer much protection. “I’d offer my sweatshirt to you—” he started.
“Thanks but no,” she cut him off. “Bondo I can handle, at least when it’s on a Porsche, but a ratty old sweatshirt won’t save me from this downpour.” Joshua grimaced, and Melina backtracked. “Thanks—I mean it—for offering. But I think you need it more than I do; you’ve only got a T-shirt underneath.”
In silent agreement, the two clasped hands again and made a run for it, following a bounding, soaked dog.
SIXTEEN
When they got back to the apartment, Joshua didn’t bother to shut the front door or usher Melina inside. His tone was urgent: “Aussie! Oz! Come here! Now!”
Melina pressed the door shut and followed them to the bathroom where Joshua pushed Aussie into the shower stall, closing the glass door behind him.
“Now, Aussie! Shake!”
Water flew, coating the inside of the shower door. Joshua waited. Aussie turned around once and gave another mighty shake.
“I think that’s about it,” Joshua, said, resignedly. “When it’s wet, he absorbs water like a mop. This is the best way to start drying him.”
Joshua handed Melina a large, dingy towel. She moved it toward her dripping hair, but Joshua pointed to the living room. “Could you please spread that out in front of the fireplace?”
Melina followed instructions, perplexed until Joshua commanded Aussie to lie down on the towel to dry. Aussie wagged his eyebrows at Me
lina as if to say, You see what I put up with?
Melina turned to Joshua and he did a second take, no longer oblivious to how badly the rain had soaked the humans, not just the dog.
“I’m sorry!” He looked stricken. “I didn’t mean to ignore you—it’s just that Aussie’s wet can get out of hand if you don’t deal with it right away.”
Melina shrugged off her soggy jacket and accepted a fresh towel to mop her hair. “I think my sweater’s a sponge like Aussie,” she said, pressing the towel to her neckline and shoulders. “Do you have anything?”
Joshua grabbed a T-shirt from his dresser drawer and Melina went to the bathroom to change and repair the damage wrought by the rainstorm. She folded her sweater over the towel bar to dry, but her hair hung in damp, messy strings—Joshua didn’t own a hair dryer.
Melina emerged from the bathroom in his oversized T-shirt. Joshua had also swapped his wet clothes for dry jeans and a new shirt. He tossed two pairs of athletic socks on the couch.
“Socks,” Joshua said, pointing Melina to the couch. “Put some on. There’s no way your feet are still dry after wearing those ridiculous shoes.”
“Ridiculous?” Melina said, taking offense. Joshua brought two mugs of tea from the kitchen and placed one in Melina’s hands. “These are considered quite fashionable, you know.”
“I believe you,” Joshua said, putting on the other pair of socks as he eyeballed Melina’s purple suede ankle boots. “But I also know sneakers and real boots work better in wet weather. I thought you lived in Seattle for a few years and learned that already?”
Joshua pulled her foot onto his lap, easing down the short zipper on the boot’s instep and giving its heel a tug. Melina colored with embarrassment, but allowed Joshua to repeat the process on her other foot. He rolled down her soaked thin trouser socks and replaced them with thick white athletic socks.
The simple, intimate gesture rocked her. Her chest fluttered, as if he’d touched uncharted territory. This is getting really personal. She brushed her forearms, smoothing goosebumps, and steered them back to the neutral zone.
“I am used to the rain,” she clarified, “I’m just not used to walking dogs in it. Next time, I’ll come better prepared.”
The mention of a next time made Joshua smile. He drank from his mug of tea and Aussie stretched. Melina tucked her feet under her legs and tentatively sipped. “This is actually good.”
“Of course it is,” Joshua confirmed. “Nothing I feed you will be bad, I promise. My stepmother used to give us sweet, milky tea after we’d been out playing in bad weather; I think she got it from her mom. I like the tradition.”
Melina thought about tradition, and how many family traditions she’d shunned in her quest to change her life. It left her feeling a bit lacking, but Joshua misinterpreted her moment of quiet.
“You must be starving. I said we’d do just a quick walk and it totally derailed our dinner. Let me get things moving.”
***
Melina finished her tea and opened the wine as Joshua cooked, all four burners blazing. Pancetta crackled with Brussels sprouts in one pan, Parmesan-crusted chicken fried in another, fettuccini bubbled on the third burner and garlicky tomato sauce simmered in the final pot.
Joshua arranged their food on plates as if he was creating a restaurant presentation. “You eat with your eyes first.” Joshua explained, his eyes roaming Melina. “Presentation is key.”
“I totally agree,” said Melina, her mind also spinning to her bedraggled appearance, lacking the polish she was capable of projecting with proper makeup and wardrobe.
They ate and talked easily, all tension about the evening gone from Joshua, while Melina’s sly sarcasm took a backseat to genuine laughter. It was good—it was great food—she told Joshua, far better than spaghetti from a bag and a jar.
“I should hope so!” Joshua carried empty plates to the sink while she poured the last of the wine evenly between their glasses. Joshua guided Melina to the couch as Aussie snored lightly.
“So, I’ve been thinking…” he started, suddenly serious. Joshua’s tension showed in the set of his jaw and his stiff posture. He hesitated.
Melina held up her hand. She didn’t want to hear what came next. What went wrong? What changed?
“Look, whatever you’re going to say, can it just wait?” she interrupted. “Despite the rain, this was actually a nice night and I’d rather not ruin it just yet.”
Joshua’s brow furrowed. “What did you think I was going to say? To ruin it?”
I guess we’ll just have to confront it head-on.
“You’re going to tell me that this is fun, and that I’m a nice person, but we both want different things, right?” Melina summoned her best I-don’t-care-either-way voice. “You’re going to say we’re not a good fit? We’re too different, but we can still be friends. All of that crap. And that’s fine, Joshua.”
Her voice tightened as she picked up the pace. “It’s fine if you want it that way, but there’s no reason to string this along if you’ve made up your mind. I mean, it’s nice of you to have me over and—”
“Melina, stop,” Joshua said, his hand on her cheek and his thumb on her lips, insistent that she quit speaking. “You’re not making sense. I wasn’t planning to say any of those things.”
She shuddered, thrown off balance again. His face changed, his jaw softened. His hand caressed her and she flinched, pulling away.
“OK, let me be clear, I was going to say a couple of those things,” Joshua said, serious. “I do think this, us together, is fun. And you’re a nice person—well, actually, I was going to say you’re an intriguing person, smart and feisty and up for any challenge.”
He paused. Melina stared at her nearly empty wine glass, miserable, willing him to get this over with as fast as possible. They felt miles apart, separated only by one couch cushion.
“But, Melina—and there is a but—what I was going to say about that was not that I wanted to end this. I was going to say I’d like to see more of you. Like on a more permanent basis.”
Hope crept into her expression but she didn’t look up, letting her hair, curling as it dried, fall in her face.
He continued, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that dating you is good. It’s unpredictable and exciting and it makes me happy. You make me happy. And I’m wondering if you feel the same way, if you want to keep dating me. Just me. As my girlfriend.”
Melina felt frozen to the spot, backed into a corner. Her only options were to fight or run. Joshua stretched a tentative hand out and rested it, palm up, on the center cushion.
He waited.
Slowly, she set her wine glass on the coffee table, buying time. Melina was so far out of her comfort zone that she wasn’t sure she could find her way back. Joshua was a good guy. A great guy. A catch by any of her girlfriends’ standards. But he was so direct, it terrified her.
Here he was, asking for a commitment that she’d never given anyone. Not Richard, because commitment was one thing he didn’t have to give. Not with the men who’d made it past a third, fourth, or fifth date. Not with lovers, who seemed more committed to sex than to a real relationship.
This was new. It was frightening, and Melina, for once, wasn’t prepared. She hadn’t practiced a presentation. She wasn’t dressed to kill and armed with a winning strategy. Melina let her hand creep toward Joshua’s, testing. What was he offering, exactly?
Their fingers connected, then laced. She forced her gaze from the fireplace but stopped at Joshua’s knees. She wasn’t ready to look him in the eye yet.
“Dating,” she said quietly. “Just us. As your girlfriend.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m not sure if you know what you’re asking. I mean, I’m not sure I know what you’re asking. What does it mean?”
Joshua exhaled, pulling Melina’s head toward his chest, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and placing his lips on top of her head.
“It means I want you. In my life, and more than just casual
ly,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m crazy about you. I see a new restaurant, and I’m wanting to take you there, wondering whether you would like it, guessing you probably already know the chef.”
Her breathing changed as he went on. “I make plans, and I want you to be there with me, I want to hear you complaining that some place is a dive but going anyway, fitting in and having a great time. I like the way you can handle yourself in any situation, and the way you look after you kicked my butt racing cars. I like you here, with me. I want you.”
Melina looked up slowly, finally meeting his gaze. His intensity was startling. She reached behind his neck and pulled him closer to her face.
“I want you, too,” she said, and kissed him, pouring her emotions into their kiss. She moved closer, wrapped herself more tightly around him. He ran his hands up her arms, drawing goose bumps, and down his own T-shirt on her back. Then he tentatively skimmed under the shirt, feeling her smooth, cool back, pressing his fingers into the muscles of her shoulders.
His thumbs stroked the sides of her ribcage as he leaned back on the couch, pulling her toward him, her body covering his as their legs tangled.
Fisting his hands in her hair, Joshua tugged gently, breaking their kiss.
“So is it official?” he asked.
Melina blinked, momentarily returned to reality. The glint came back into her eye. “You mean being your girlfriend? That’s a big request. What are the terms?” Her tongue darted out, wickedly tasting his neck, teasing him.
“Well, let me think ….” Joshua played along. “You must like Aussie and he must like you. That’s rule number one.”
“Agreed,” Melina said, and gasped as Joshua stroked the outer curve of her breast.
“And you must not cook unless you give me a chance to teach you—I don’t want any bagged-spaghetti disasters,” he said seriously.
“Also agreed.” She moved a hand under his shirt, exploring his stomach, relishing his reaction. She tugged and Joshua shifted, sitting up slightly to let her pull his T-shirt over his head.
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