“What about me?”
“Do you spend a lot of time in other peoples’ houses?”
I laugh. What a weird question. That’s kind of what I like about Robert, though: he’s not afraid to ask me weird questions. He keeps me on my toes, and he keeps me curious. There’s so much to unpack in his questions. Perhaps most importantly, I feel comfortable with him. I feel at ease. These are things I don’t often feel around new people, especially men.
With him, though, it seems as though everything is just going to be fine. I don’t get the feeling that there’s very much I could say or do that would scare him off. After all, I blew off our first date and then tearfully confessed that I’m scared of outsiders because of what happened to my mom. You don’t get much more dramatic than that, but he doesn’t seem scar
ed.
“Not really,” I finally answer his question.
“Is it because you spend most of your time at the bar?”
“Bingo. When I’m not working, I’m reading or hanging out. Foxy and I spend a lot of time together. Probably too much time, honestly. We’re good friends. She’s sweet, and I like her, and she keeps me grounded. When I spend too much time at work, I get...I don’t know. Tired.”
“I think most people get tired from work.”
“I don’t mean I get physically tired. It’s just that being a bartender, people tend to dump their problems on me.”
“I know the feeling,” he smiles.
“I’m sure you do. The difference is that you can fix those problems. If someone comes to you with like, a broken arm, you know how to treat that. When someone comes into my bar and they’re sad because their wife left, I mean, what am I going to do?”
“From what I’ve gathered, you tend to offer a gentle listening ear,” he reaches out and places his hand on my leg. Tingles shoot through me at the touch. I like it a lot. I know he’s not ready to take things to the next step, but damn if I don’t just love his hands on me.
“That’s very kind of you.”
“I’m not trying to be kind.”
“Then what are you trying to be?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Honest.”
“I can respect that. Most people struggle with honesty.”
“Unless they’re drinking,” he points out.
“True. Maybe that’s why I like my job.”
“You get a lot of honest souls at the bar?”
“I get a lot of everything at the bar, but yeah, honesty comes with the territory.”
The doorbell sounds and I jump up suddenly.
“I’ll grab that,” I say.
“Let me,” he reaches for his wallet, but I shake my head.
“I paid online.”
“Hey, I was going to treat you,” he says.
“You can treat me another time. I’m pretty sure I owe you from ruining our first date.”
I hurry out of the room and into the front entryway before Robert can say anything else. I don’t want him to know just how off balance he really throws me. I love hanging out with him. I like spending time with him.
Pulling the door open, I smile.