barking, Elizabeth peeked out the window and spied Thomas standing on the sidewalk. He was gazing at the house, a far-off expression on his face. She could only imagine what he was thinking.
He was fifteen minutes early. Again. At least this time she was ready for him. She’d left work early so that she could let Howie out to work off the worst of a day’s worth of pent-up energy, and so that she could tidy up her house. Of course, her small bungalow didn’t need much tidying.
She liked order. Growing up with her freewheeling parents, who’d eschewed home ownership for a more nomadic lifestyle, Elizabeth now thrived on the stability of knowing where she would be sleeping each night and that the bed would be made with fresh linens. Small things like having a well-stocked refrigerator and the appliances necessary to make a hot meal added a sense of security that her childhood had lacked. She wasn’t completely boring, but she had a clear plan for her future. Surprises were fine as long as she was prepared to deal with any consequences that came along with them. Her parents were no good at dealing with consequences.
She loved them dearly, but she didn’t want to be anything like them, except where their relationship with one another was concerned. Skeet and Delphine were quirky, oblivious and downright irresponsible, but they loved one another without reservation or condition.
So, she’d been looking for a man who was nothing like her father; but, at his core, very much like her father. That is to say, capable of deep love and lifelong commitment. What she hadn’t been looking for was a man like Thomas Waverly, but that was exactly who now stood on her doorstep holding a bag of Chinese food and a clutch of daisies, and wearing a forced smile as Howie growled menacingly at him from behind her.
“Howie!” she admonished. To Thomas, she said, “He’s really nothing but a big baby.”
Her “big baby” looked ready to jump through the screen door at her guest, which was odd. He’d never had this reaction to company in the past.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s never acted like this before.”
“Apparently, I bring out the worst in him.” Thomas laughed tightly.
“It’s probably just that not many men come to my door … lately.”
Thomas eyed the dog and drew a different conclusion. “He’s protective of you. It’s a good quality in a dog.”
“I guess so.” She reached for Howie’s collar, pulling him back. “I’ll just go put him in my bedroom.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Thomas said.
When she came back down the hall, he was still standing on her porch. “All clear?”
“All clear.”
She held open the door and then led him back to her small kitchen. Its harvest-gold appliances and battered Formica counter-top were hopelessly out-of-date. As were the white cabinets that had been painted so many times that some of them refused to close properly. Renovation was on her to-do list, but she had neither the time nor the money to tackle any serious home improvement for the foreseeable future.
“It’s very retro in here,” Thomas commented.
“Retro. Yes. That’s exactly the vibe I was going for.”
“You have a good sense of humor,” he accused on a smile as he set the cartons of food on the small, bar-height bistro set that was tucked into the corner of the tiny kitchen. “A dry one.”
“I guess I do,” she agreed. “Are those for me?”
He was still holding the flowers.
“Yes.”
He all but thrust them into her hands. Elizabeth gave the bouquet a sniff. Daisies didn’t emit the lush fragrance of, say, carnations or lilies, but she found their subtle earthiness refreshing. “Daisies are my favorite flower.”
“They’re a hostess gift,” he blurted out with curious intensity.
“Well, they’re lovely. Thank you.” As she pulled a vase from a cupboard and put them in water, Elizabeth said, “Has anyone ever told you that you have wonderful manners?”
“All the time.” He removed his jacket and placed it over the back of his chair before taking his seat. “It was my grandmother’s doing.”
“I like your grandmother.”
“Just wait until you meet her.”
Both of them grew serious then. That was the objective. For Elizabeth to meet his grandmother and pass muster as his supposed bride-to-be.
“Do you think she’ll like me?” Elizabeth realized it was a silly question as soon as she asked it. She shook her head. “She already does, doesn’t she? I mean, the fabricated version of me.” It hit her then. “Beth. That’s my name as far as she knows.”
“It is.” He tilted his head to one side. “Do you mind being called Beth?”
“It’s only for a little while. I’ll get used to it.” She shrugged and went to get plates and utensils. She was quite proficient with chopsticks, but she grabbed a fork for Thomas just in case.
He didn’t appear satisfied with her answer. “You know, the more I get to know you, the less you look like a Beth.”
“Oh?” Curious, she asked, “What does a Beth look like?”
He flushed slightly. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll call you Elizabeth. It suits you better anyway.”
“And how do you know that?” she challenged.
“I … I don’t.” His mouth snapped shut and he was silent a moment. Then he asked, “What kind of movies do you like?”
His quick switch in topics baffled her. “Movies?”
“We’re getting to know one another, remember? That’s the whole point of this evening.”
Of course it was.
“Movies,” she repeated. “I don’t go to the theater often. To be perfectly honest, I’m not much for first-run films. I can’t name any of the big stars currently walking the red carpet at premieres and award shows.” In a teasing tone, she asked, “Does that make me a Beth or an Elizabeth?”
“It makes you a smart-ass,” he shot back, after which he immediately apologized for cursing.
Ah, those impeccable manners of his. She didn’t want to acknowledge what a turn-on she found them to be. She busied herself setting the table.
“So, you like old movies,” he prodded.
“Mainly Alfred Hitchcock films, although I’m also a sucker for anything that stars Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy.”
“No way.”
“What? You like Tracy and Hepburn?”
“No. Hitchcock. The man was a genius,” Thomas replied solemnly.
