Sheri WhiteFeather – The Texan's Future Bride (страница 9)
“Then I’ll bet it doesn’t compare. I sank right into this bed. It’s pretty darn amazing.”
She glanced away. “I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s interesting that you don’t think you have anything to dream about.”
She turned to look at him again. “What do you mean?”
“Seems to me that you’d want to dream about the man you’re hoping to marry.”
“I don’t need to see him in a dream. I’ll know who he is when I meet him in person.”
“You’ll recognize him from the list? That must be some list.”
“It is to me. But most people probably wouldn’t think much of it.”
“Where do you keep it?”
“I have a file on my computer. But I keep a copy in my purse, too.”
“You carry it around?” He flashed his lopsided grin. “That’s over the top.”
His cavalier attitude annoyed her. “Keeping it close at hand helps me to stay focused.”
“So you can checkmark it when you’re on a date?” His grin got even more crooked. “I feel sorry for the poor saps who take you out, having to live up to whatever your expectations are.”
“Your sense of humor is wearing thin, J.D.”
“Sorry. It’s just that I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“How would you know if you’ve ever met anyone like me?”
“I wouldn’t, I guess. But logic tells me that you’re one of a kind.”
“You think I’m weird.” She tromped into the bathroom to put his toiletries away.
Soon she felt his presence behind her. She sensed that he was looming in the doorway, watching her. She ignored him. The condoms were the last items she put away. She placed them in the cabinet under the sink, stood up and turned in his direction.
He said, “I don’t think you’re weird. I think you’re sweet and beautiful and unique.”
He was looking at her with tenderness in his eyes, and now she longed to reach out and hold him. “Thank you. That was a nice thing to say.”
“I meant every word.”
The bathroom was small already, and now the walls were closing in.
“I should get going,” she said.
“You don’t have to leave yet.”
She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late.”
“But I want you to stay.” He didn’t move away from the doorway, trapping her where she was.
J.D. scrambled for an excuse to keep her there. “I need you to help me put the groceries away.”
“You already put them away.”
“I just put the bags in the fridge. I didn’t unload them.”
“Oh, my goodness. Really? There was frozen food in those. And canned goods and …” She shook her head. “You should have unpacked them.”
“So help me do it now.”
She made a
He smiled. “A guy recovering from a concussion?”
She returned his smile, and he realized he’d just charmed her. It made him feel good inside, but a bit anxious, too. He shouldn’t be asking her to spend more time with him.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s put the food away properly.”
He cleared the doorway, allowing her to pass by him. As her body breezed by his, he got a zipper-tugging sensation. He took a rough breath and followed her to the kitchen. While he was walking behind her, he checked her out. She was lean and gently toned. Had he always been partial to small-framed girls?
She made a beeline for the fridge and removed the bags. Together, they unloaded them. She’d gotten him a variety of stuff to choose from: frozen pizza, fresh fruit, ready-made salads, boxed macaroni and cheese, sandwich fixings, canned chili, soup and crackers, pudding cups, cereal and milk.
“All I want is for you to get better,” she said, repeating what she’d told him earlier. “That will be payment enough.”
“I’m glad you didn’t get anything that requires cooking skills. I don’t think I’d be very good in that regard.”
“We have that in common.”
He nodded. She’d already mentioned that she wasn’t much of a cook.
After they completed their task, he said, “Will you sit outside with me before you go?” He was still looking for excuses to keep her there, and since the cabin was equipped with a quaint little porch, it provided a cozy atmosphere. “We can have some pudding.”
She accepted the invitation, and they settled into mismatched chairs. The air was rife with something sweet. Honeysuckle, maybe. Foliage grew along the sides of the building.
As he spooned into his dessert, he looked at Jenna, impressed with how beautifully she fit into the environment. Her hair caught the setting sun, making it look even blonder. He couldn’t explain why her hair was a source of fascination. Was it because his was so dark? His skin was a lot darker than hers, too.
“I wish I could cook,” she said, her mind obviously back in the kitchen.
“You could learn, couldn’t you?”
“I don’t know. Every time I try to make something, it tastes awful. Maybe I’ll ask Tammy if she can give me some pointers.”
“The way you gave her pointers about dolling herself up?”
Jenna smiled. “It might be a good trade.”
“Sounds like it to me.” He studied her again. She certainly knew how to make herself look pretty. Whatever she was wearing on her lips created a warm, kissable effect. “You can use me as a guinea pig if you want.”
“For my cooking?”
“You’re already suffering from a head injury. I don’t want to poison you, too.”
“I’m sure I’d survive it.”
“I’d rather not take the chance.”
“I probably won’t be here long enough anyway.” No poison food. No soft, sweet, poison kisses, either. He needed to stop thinking about how alluring she was.
“Do you like the pudding?” she asked.
He glanced at his cup. He’d only taken a few bites. He’d been too busy admiring her. “Yes, it’s good.”
“Butterscotch is my favorite.”
He noticed that she’d barely made a dent in hers, either. “You’re not gobbling it up very quickly.”
“I’m savoring it.”
“So am I,” he lied, when in fact, he’d been savoring her.
“This is nice, sitting out here with you.”