Melody
We snaga table by the window before the place fills up. Creed insists on paying, and as much as I insisted on buying my own, he won out. I watch him up at the counter, chatting with the owner and her husband. He’s so full of life. I swear he could talk to anyone, unlike me, who sometimes feels safer under a rock, but not today. I’m glad to be out and especially glad to be with Creed.
He brings two lattes back to the table. It’s not my imagination that every woman’s eyes on him as he does. A feeling of pride swells in my chest, but I have to remind myself that this isn’t a date. This is a neighbor doing another neighbor a favor. Right?
“They’ll bring over the buns when they’re warm.”
“Warm buns, huh?” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“That’s the only way I like them.”
“Are we still talking about food?” The minute the words leave my mouth, I feel heat rise to my cheeks. Luckily, Creed huffs out a laugh at my lame joke.
The first sip of my latte is like pure heaven against my tongue. “Holy Lord,” I say. “This is the most amazing latte I’ve ever had.”
“I told you,” Creed says, setting down his own cup.
“It’s like they put crack in it. Not that I’ve ever done crack.”
“That’s comforting,” he teases.
Charlie, the owner, brings over our sticky buns fresh from the oven, and the smell alone nearly knocks me out of my chair. “Enjoy, guys.” Is it my imagination, or does she shoot me a subtle wink when Creed isn’t looking?
We devour our sweet treats, barely saying a word. They’re truly that good. “I don’t know if I’ve ever tasted anything so delicious.”
“I know I haven’t…yet.” Creed’s eyes flicker to mine before he eats the last bite of his sticky bun. Did I just hear him right? I feel like the world is spinning so quickly that I can’t get a grip on what—if anything—is happening between us.
By the time we’re ready to go, the place is slammed with the lunch crowd. I pop into the drugstore with him, and then it’s back to reality, where my car sits dead in front of my house. Again, he pulls his car in front of mine. After a few tries, the engine turns over, and I’m flooded with relief. But it’s short-lived; my car dies as quickly as it started. We both groan in disappointment.
“You need to get to a real mechanic and have it looked at.” Creed leans against my car door.
“I know,” I say, dreading the idea of having to sit in a garage somewhere. I wonder how much longer I can actually go without having to leave the house now that I have my printer paper. “Thank you again for your help, and the ride into town, and the coffee.” I run a hand through my hair, ignoring that strange, natural pause in a conversation when it’s time to go, but you’re not quite ready to leave.
“It’s not a problem, Mel.” His bright eyes remain locked on mine. “In fact, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
“Really?” A little laugh falls from my lips. “What is it?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner.” When I don’t answer right away, he fills the silence. “Or we can go out if you want?”
“Like a date?”
“Um, yeah, I guess you’d call it that.”
“Wow,” I say and cover my lips with my fingers to hide my smile. “I’d like that.”
“How about tonight? I have a couple of steaks that need cooking.”
I’m about to agree, but the looming deadline is a weight in my gut. The publishing industry is a fickle business, and if I don’t produce something good, I’m afraid this’ll be my last contract. “I can’t tonight,” I say and instantly regret my words when I see the look on his face. “But, I’d like to do it some other time.”
Creed’s expression grows cold. “Sounds good,” he says and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Let me know if you need any more help with your car or a recommendation.”
“Will do.”
He turns away and heads toward his house. I stand there perplexed, hand on my hip. Does he think that because I can't do it tonight, I don't want to do it at all? I’m not good in these situations. For a woman who slings words for a living, I can’t seem to think of what to say. I watch him the whole way, until he disappears into his house.
Back inside, Esme weaves her way in and out of my legs as I head toward my office. My brain’s in a twist, and I silently chastise myself for not hitting my deadlines on time so that I could’ve said yes to Creed’s invitation. Being in his house, up close and personal…why wouldn’t I just say yes?
I peer out the window at his house. I have to remedy this.