Old Enough To Know Better. Vicki Lewis Thompson
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“Don’t worry about that! Just watching you makes me nervous.”
“Don’t be. I’ve logged a lot of hours in plenty of trees.” But her comment made him realize she probably worked in the office next to this tree and had been observing him from her window. That was gratifying. “I do use a cherry picker for some jobs, like palms and eucalyptus, but for big mesquites like this with an elaborate canopy, I’d rather get right into the tree so I can see how it needs to be shaped.”
“Oh.” She glanced over at the mesquite. “I guess there’s more to it than I thought.”
“Believe me, there’s more to it than I thought when I first started out.” He didn’t want to talk about his work, though. He wanted to ease back around to the subject of having dinner tomorrow night. “Listen, would you—”
“Are you by any chance free for dinner tonight?”
Oh, hell. Now she’d beaten him to it. “Not tonight, but tomorrow night, I’d love to.”
She hesitated. “Well, tomorrow night I have this…thing. Maybe the next night…no, wait a minute, there’s—”
“Hold on.” He could see they were losing steam, and he didn’t want that. “Let me tell you what I have to do tonight. You might be willing to go with me.”
“Okay.” She looked wary. “What is it?”
“My little brother has this rock band, and they’re playing tonight at the Cactus Club. It’s not exactly my kind of music—they appeal to a younger crowd, but this is an important gig, and I want to show my support, so I promised I’d be there.”
Instead of making a face, she actually looked interested. “What’s the name of the band?”
“The Tin Tarantulas. I’m sure you’ve never heard of them.”
“But I have! I heard them play when I was…um, when I just happened to be down at ASU last year. It was an open-air kind of performance. I…the college kids really seemed to love their music.” She combed her hair back with both hands, a gesture that jiggled her breasts under the lacy top. “I wouldn’t mind going, if that’s your question.”
“It’s my question.” He was careful not to let his gaze rest where it wanted to and looked into her eyes, instead. “So that wouldn’t be too painful? We can have dinner first, of course, but I need to be at the Cactus Club by nine. Colin expects me to show up.”
“That’ll work.” She smiled. “And don’t forget I asked you to dinner, so that part’s on me.”
“Okay.” He was so wrapped up in her smile that he didn’t care to debate who would pick up the check. Her lips, decorated in the same shade of red as her car, made him think of hot kisses. But what made her mouth even more fascinating to him, a man who loved details, was the tiny scar in one corner.
It was so faint that someone would have to look close to notice, but that little scar made her unique, and he liked that. Maybe tonight he’d ask her how she got it. He loved hearing those kinds of stories about people. It gave him a handle on who they were.
“How about if I pick you up around seven?” she asked.
He thought about that and laughed. “That’s okay. I’ll drive. I’d probably need a shoehorn to get myself into your car.”
She gazed at him. “How do you know that?”
Uh-oh. Oh, well. Confession was good for the soul. “I saw you get out of your car this morning.”
“Really?” The light dawned. “Were you the person who honked?”
“I accidentally hit the horn.” Leaning forward to get a better view of your tush. “Sorry if I startled you.”
“I just thought somebody was trying to get my attention. But when no one called out my name, I figured it wasn’t for me.”
It was all for her, but he’d eat grubs before admitting that. “I didn’t know your name then.” He laughed. “I still only know half of it, Ms. Lifesaver.”
She held out her hand. “Kasey Braddock.”
He wiped his on his jeans. “Sam Ashton.” He noted that her handshake was firm and her skin felt cool and incredibly soft. She met his gaze during the brief moment of touching, and he enjoyed the warmth of their eye contact.
What a great custom, the handshake. Sam thought of it as a sample of who the person was, like a taste of an ice-cream flavor served on a tiny pink spoon. In this instance, the sample made him want to take home a gallon’s worth of Kasey Braddock.
KASEY WAS CONVINCED that Sam had no clue they’d ever met. After she gave him her full name and he didn’t react, she knew she was home free. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to react. He’d remember a buddy named Jim Winston, but the last name of Braddock shouldn’t ring any bells for him.
“So I’ll pick you up, then,” he said.
Kasey hesitated, wondering if an assertive woman would insist on doing the driving, even if her car was a tight fit for her date. No, she’d let him drive. She knew the Miata was small, and Sam wasn’t.
“Or maybe you’d rather meet at the restaurant,” he said, obviously misinterpreting her reluctance. “After all, you don’t really know me, so maybe you’d rather not give out your address to a perfect stranger.”
But she did know him. Still, she couldn’t say that. “You’re Sam Ashton, so either this is your business or you’re working for a relative.”
“It’s my business.”
She’d thought as much from the way he’d talked about his work with the tree. “Then I can’t believe you’d jeopardize your professional reputation by turning into some kind of stalker. I’d be glad to have you pick me up.”
He smiled. “I promise I won’t bring a truck.”
“I’m not a car snob. You could bring a truck.”
“Glad to hear it, but I’ll bring my car, anyway. So let’s head over to the truck and I’ll locate a pen and paper.”
“Okay.” She walked beside him to the truck and trailer parked in the street next to the building, with orange cones set around it to divert traffic. Now she could see it was the same truck that had been parked behind her this morning. She liked knowing that he’d watched her get out of her car.
He opened the passenger door, grabbed a clipboard and closed the door again, but not before she noticed a cooler on the floor of the cab.
“Um, what’s in the cooler?” she asked, thinking she already knew the answer.
He grinned sheepishly. “Bottles of water.”
“I see.”
“I couldn’t very well tell you I didn’t need that