My cheeks heat, and I pull the blanket up to hide my blushing face. I peek over to him, and he’s laid back against the couch, his hand behind his head, his leg set wide. Damn it, he really wasn’t someone I would have ever thought watched birds. I mean, not that there is a specific type, but tall, muscular, and quite good looking is not what I imagine most people imagine.
“What do you do?” I ask him, just peeking my mouth over the blanket enough so my voice isn’t muffled.
“I work at a coal mine.”
“Oh, goodness. Like, underground?”
“Yup.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Extremely.”
Why does that make him even hotter? I can picture black coal smeared across his face. His shirt dirty from all the hard work he’s done.
“So why do you do it?”
“Pays good, and I only work four days a week. Long hours but I enjoy having a three-day weekend.”
Chris flips through the channels until he gives up and turns the TV off. He gets up and sits at the end of the bed.
“Did you always want to be a librarian?”
“I did. I’ve loved reading my whole life. My dream is to one day is to own a quaint little bookstore.”
“Will you carry bird books?”
“Absolutely. I would have an entire shelf dedicated to the birds. I have everything set in my mind of how I want it to be.”
“Tell me.”
“Really? You want to listen to mysomedaydreams?”
“I do.”
My heart aches a little. I remember telling Chad about my dream of owning a bookstore, and his response was that we would have the first choice of prime real estate. I wonder if he ever really cared about what I wanted, or what my dreams and goals are.
“Well, it would be on a corner lot.…”
I go on and on, telling him my plans. How I want an outdoor area for seating and bird feeders. I tell him exactly how I want everything set up. He sits there and listens to me, watching me the whole time. His gaze shifts from my eyes to my excited hand movements, and his smile grows bigger whenever I get a little more excited about explaining things to him.
“I already love it,” he says, and his eyes meet mine.
For a moment, I feel like I am the most important thing in the room. That what I have to say means something. He doesn't even interrupt me.
“Wanna go grab some brunch down in the lobby?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll text the group and let everyone know we will be down there if they want to join us.”
“Perfect.”
I change into something a little more presentable and throw my hair into a messy bun. When I exit the bathroom, Chris is standing against the door frame. The picture of perfection.
“Can I put a pencil in your bun?”
“Ha-ha. Hilarious.” I playfully smack his chest as I pass him to leave the room.