Читать книгу Winning Sara's Heart - Mary Wilson Anne - Страница 10

The moment seemed to freeze in time. Him. The stranger from the restaurant. Holding her by the arm, not more than two feet away, staring at her with as much surprise in his hazel eyes as she knew was in hers. “You?” she repeated, suddenly focused on his hold on her arm. She turned, easing out of the contact, and as he drew his hand back, she could have sworn there was the shadow of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Me,” he drawled.

She’d thought about seeing him again, but it had always been a meeting in the restaurant, him coming in, her walking over and very politely apologizing to him, then telling him his key was in the tip jar. That was as far as her imagination had taken her. She’d never thought he’d knock her down with a door, or that she’d be staring at him, tongue-tied. Nervous, she crouched and began to pick up the papers, trying to stuff them back into the ruined plastic sack, but they came out the torn side as quickly as she pushed them into the bag.

The next thing she knew, there was a metal clang on the cement, and she glanced to her right to see the stranger’s denim-clad legs and scuffed cowboy boots right beside her, along with a stainless steel trash bin.

“Try this,” he said as he hunkered down beside her and reached for the papers.

“Thanks,” she muttered, catching a glimpse of his hands, large, strong-looking hands, without any rings. Working hands, she thought, with plain, square nails, not like those of that man at the restaurant whom she was sure had been wearing clear nail polish. “Let me do that,” he said as he took the papers out of her hands, gathered up the last of them and pushed them into the container.

As they both stood, she took stock of him. Now he wasn’t wearing a leather jacket. He was in a plain white T-shirt that clung to broad shoulders and a strong chest, along with plain jeans and scuffed leather western boots. He dressed like a lot of men she’d seen around Houston, yet was unlike anyone she’d ever met. He had that way of looking at her, with narrowed eyes that made her nervous. He tucked the tips of his fingers in his jeans, snugging the denim on his narrow hips, and inclined his head.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice.

She felt heat in her face and lowered her gaze. But she regretted that as soon as she realized that his jeans were as snug as his T-shirt. She looked up right away, met his slight smile and prayed that he didn’t have a clue where her thoughts had been headed. “I’m fine, and I…I’m glad we ran into each other again,” she said.

“Oh, you are, are you?” he asked.

She shifted from foot to foot, feeling like a child standing in front of a parent trying to apologize for something. “I meant that I wanted to say how sorry I am for acting the way I did before, for what I said and everything. I know you were just trying to help and I…” She bit her lip hard. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“Why did you?” he asked bluntly.

She shrugged, meeting his gaze evenly. “Should I have fallen at your feet and kissed your boots?” she asked with a touch of sarcasm that she really hadn’t intended.

All he did was grin at her again. “Now, that has definite possibilities.”

She felt her face flame. “Sorry. That was…”

“Uncalled for?” he provided.

“Yes, and if you must know, I was afraid that Hughes would fire me on the spot, and I can’t afford to be out of work.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I never thought of explaining myself, and I was afraid if you said any more that he’d get angrier and—”

“He’d get rid of you?”

“Exactly,” she said.

“Did he?”

“No, he didn’t. He gave me another chance.”

“How magnanimous of him,” he murmured.

“He’s the boss,” she countered. “He might be an officious twit, but he’s my boss.”

That brought a rough chuckle. “Officious twit? I’ve met the type,” he said.

“Then you know what I’m up against.”

“Yes, I do. And I’m glad that you still have a job.

But does that job mean you do janitorial work over here?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “No, this is another job.”

“Two of them?” he asked with a lifted eyebrow. “At the moment,” she said. “Do you have plans for more?”

“You never know,” she sighed, and wondered why she was saying anything to him beyond the apology. “I should be getting back. I just wanted to apologize for the way I acted last week.”

“Apology accepted,” he murmured.

“Do you work here?”

“Excuse me?” he said.

“You’re here. I assumed that you work here, too?”

“You said you work here, didn’t you?” he asked, answering her question with a question.

“I just started at the day-care center.”

“That’s a coincidence,” he said.

“You work at the day-care center?” she asked, finding it hard to envision him around the gang of kids she’d just left inside.

“Me? No,” he said, as if she’d asked him to jump out of an airplane without a parachute.

She actually found herself laughing. “You look horrified. Kids scare you?”

“Scare me? No. But I can’t say that I have any affinity for them.”

“You don’t have any children, I take it?”

“No,” he said, in exactly the same tone he’d assured her that he didn’t work at the center.

“They do scare you, don’t they?” she asked.

“No, but I don’t have—”

“Any affinity for them?” she supplied.

He chuckled again. “You’ve got it.”

“Okay, if you don’t work at the center, what do you do?”

“Work. Long hours.”

“Here?” she asked.

“At the moment,” he said.

She had the feeling that getting answers would be a time-consuming task. “Janitor?”

“What?”

“Are you a janitor? You knew where the trash receptacle was.”

“I looked up and it was there,” he said.