him into a good-sized living room. One wall was paneled, but not like in those scary midcentury grandma homes. This was rough-hewn, obviously old and well cared for. A big wood-burning stone fireplace stood opposite, with a large mantel stretching across the wall. A huge television hung above it. The furniture was black leather, the floors hardwood. A few paintings, mostly landscapes, were scattered on the walls. A patterned rug of reds and browns and greens anchored the room. The room was eclectic, but ultimately welcoming.
“I like it,” she said. “It’s very masculine, but not in a no-girls-allowed way.”
Aidan shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I picked out most of it. Nick helped with the rug. He has an eye for color.”
“The artist thing.”
He nodded. “That would be it.” He pointed at the sofa. “Have a seat.”
She sat at one end of the sofa. He took the other. They looked at each other, then away. Silence filled the room and awkwardness returned. Which made sense. She and Aidan barely knew each other. Rather than become friends in the normal way—over time, through shared interests—they were forcing it upon themselves. Where on earth were they supposed to start?
“What about—”
“Did you want to—”
They both spoke at the same time, stopped, and silence returned. Shelby decided there was no point in ignoring the obvious.
“This is really uncomfortable,” she said firmly. “But I think we can get past it.”
“Okay.”
The slow response was more neutral than agreement.
“We have a purpose,” she continued. “I want to fall in love and get married.”
Aidan’s expression tightened with what could only be described as panic. Some of her tension eased.
“Not to you,” she pointed out. “Don’t freak.”
“Then don’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not? Why can’t I be honest?”
“Because it’s not what any guy wants to hear. Not right off. It means you have a picture of what’s going to happen in your life and you’ll use any guy to get there. It makes us feel trapped.”
His words almost made sense. “Like what we want is more important than the outcome? Caring more about the bridal gown than the groom?”
“Yeah, that. Men and women want different things. You want to be committed.”
“And men want to cheat.”
His brows rose. “Who cheated?”
She tucked one foot under her opposite leg as she considered her words. “Wow. I honestly don’t know where that came from. Miles cheated, but we were barely dating, so I’m not sure it counts. I guess what I mean is I don’t trust men.”
“Shouldn’t you be afraid a guy would hit you rather than he would cheat?”
Talk about cutting to be heart of the matter. She held up both hands. “Yes, and maybe we could ease into the honesty just a little.”
“I thought women liked a man to say what he was thinking.”
She smiled. “That’s a myth.”
“For what it’s worth, I never cheated.”
“That’s because you were never in a relationship long enough to get bored.”
One brow rose. “So you get to be honest, but I have to be careful?”
Oops. She drew in a breath. “You’re right. Sorry. I take back my request that you edit what you say. I’m tough. I can take it.”
She thought he might make a crack about her being weak or broken, but he surprised her by nodding.
“You are tough. You’re taking control of your situation and that’s admirable. A lot of people are more comfortable being victims.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They smiled at each other.
“So what are we going to do?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“With our afternoon. We have to do something.”
“Why? We’re talking. That’s nice. We could go to Jo’s Bar and get margaritas.”
Aidan shifted back in his seat. If she didn’t know better she would swear he was starting to sweat. “No. Guys don’t go get margaritas and talk.”
“You go get beers. It’s the same thing.”
“We get a beer and watch sports. It’s not the same thing. Women want to talk everything to death. Guys don’t do that. If you ignore most problems, they usually go away.”
“Uh-huh. And how’s that strategy working for you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes. Trying not to talk about what’s wrong.”
“We could do something,” he offered. “Like watch a game. Or go skiing.”
Shelby considered his options. “You realize none of those require conversation.”
Aidan relaxed a little. “Isn’t that great?”
“But we have to get to know each other. We have to talk about our feelings.”
He winced. “Why?”
“We just do. That’s what...” She felt her eyes widen. “We’re totally different. The man-woman thing is real. I want to go have a conversation about my life and your life and what we can do to help each other, and you want to physically do something with only the occasional grunt for conversation. As a man, you don’t want to talk about anyone’s feelings, let alone your own.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. It’s not. Not talking about your feelings can be very relaxing.”
Which might be true but wasn’t helpful. “We really didn’t think this through.”
Aidan leaned toward her. “No. Do not give up on me now. We have a deal. We’ve gotten this far, we can figure out the rest of it. You want to do girl stuff and I want to do guy stuff.”
He gave her a slow, sexy smile. One that had her breath catching. But before she could do something ridiculous, like bat her eyes at him or flip her hair, she reminded herself that it wasn’t a slow, sexy smile. They weren’t involved that way. It was just a smile. She would ignore any subtext her hormones might read in to the situation.
“I
