He glanced up to see her smiling and chuckled. “No. No rats or snakes.”
“What was the deal with that anyway?”
“I was curious about things you like or don’t like.”
Her eyebrows rose as she picked up her fork. “And that’s what you started with?”
He shrugged. “For me, it fit at the time.”
“O-kay.” Their gazes connected and held for a long moment before she dropped her attention back to the pasta. “Well, here’s one for you, I love Italian, and it all smells amazing. Do I have to pick one, or can I try some of each?”
“Go for it.”
He did the same as her, scooping a little of each pasta onto his plate. As they began eating, he found himself thinking not only of what she’d said about his family, but a comment she’d made about her mother rose in his memory.
“Would you be willing to tell me about your family? Or lack thereof, it seems.”
Dismay flickered in her eyes as she reached for her water. She seemed to debate in her mind as she chewed, then she swallowed her food and sipped from her glass. “It’s lack thereof, definitely, so I’ll give you the Cliff Notes version. I grew up in Wisconsin. My mom left us when I was nine, my dad buried himself in his work and traveling, and I was left with my super religious grandparents who never liked my mother and pointed out every day how I was just like her.”
She’d started out as if recounting simple facts, but at the end, her voice dripped with hurt and resentment.
“Sounds shitty.”
“It was. They didn’t understand me or what I do—never even tried. Who I was, who I am, was never acceptable to them.”
Her words sparked his guilt once more. For six years, he’d done the same thing as her grandparents.
“The day after I graduated high school, I packed everything I owned in my Jeep and moved here.”
“The same Jeep you drive now?” he asked with surprise. “That was what, ten years ago?”
“Yep. It was ten years old when I bought it, I’ve had it for ten years, and I’ll drive it another ten if I can.”
He’d seen her Jeep. He was shocked it was still running, but that was neither here nor there. “Why Colorado?”
“I visited once as a kid and loved the mountains.”
Something in her voice had him shaking his head. “I don’t buy that. What’s the real reason?”
Surprise flashed in her eyes that he didn’t accept her pat answer, but she looked down at her plate to stab a shrimp with her fork. “You wouldn’t believe me, so let’s just leave it.”
“Your reason is not for me to judge.”
Her lips twisted wryly. “Well that’s a new one.”
“I’ll keep my word, Rox,” he promised.
Her head lifted at his shortened version of her name. He’d never used it before. Never felt comfortable enough to use it before.
His heart pounded hard as her gaze met his. It felt like he’d suddenly crossed a line and there was no going back. Not that he had any idea what the line was or what it meant.
After a charged moment, she simply said, “Colorado felt right. When I left Wisconsin, I had no clue where I was going, I was just getting away. Getting out. I drove west because it’s more miles to the ocean, but once I saw the mountains, I knew fate had brought me home, and I stopped driving.”
She knew fate had brought her home. He was starting to feel that way himself. “That’s not so crazy.”
“I didn’t say it was crazy, I just didn’t think you’d believe it.”
“I have family in Texas, my uncle and aunt and my cousins, but all the years I was there, it never felt right until I came back home.” After a couple more bites, he said, “So, you moved here and the rest is history. Do you still talk to your family?”