A Marriage-Minded Man / From Friend to Father: A Marriage-Minded Man / From Friend to Father

“And I could’ve gone all day without you bringing that up.”

“It happened, Tess. You can’t deny it. And God knows I’m not gonna. And it seems to me maybe you better figure out why it happened. Because if the earth tilts on its axis and we ever do that again, I wanna make good and sure it’s not because you’re mad at the world and taking it out on me.”

“If we ever…?” Her laugh this time was sharp. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Just saying, if it does.”

“Well, it’s not. So you can put that thought right out of your head.” She paused. “And I thought you didn’t care. About my…” Her lips smushed together. “Motivation.”

“That time, no. Just don’t let it become a habit.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Eli—” When he chuckled, she realized she’d been had. “I hate you,” she said, without heat.

“Ah…just like old times,” he said, propping one boot on the dashboard, earning a disapproving frown. “Do I make you nervous?”

Her head whipped around so fast her sunglasses slipped. “What? No!” When he raised one eyebrow, she released a breath. “Okay, maybe a little—”

“Ha!”

Her mouth turned down at the corners. “It’s…strange being around you again. That’s all.”

“You can say that again,” Eli said nonchalantly, slouching down as much as the seat belt would let him, his hands folded over his stomach.

“Do I…make you nervous?”

“Heck, yeah. ’Cause it’s like I should know you, you know? Only I don’t. And yet…”

“What?”

He looked at her. “Before, when we were kids? I know ninety, maybe ninety-five percent of the relationship was about body contact. But the five to ten percent that wasn’t?” Focusing back out the windshield, he said, “I really liked you, Tess. Hell, I thought you were the coolest person I’d ever known.”

“Oh, God, Eli—”

“Don’t go getting your panties in a twist. I’m not tryin’ to score or anything. Exactly.” He ducked, chuckling, when one hand flew over the gearshift to smack at him. “But I guess what I’m trying to say is, some tiny part of that—it’s still alive. On my side of the fence anyway. I mean, by rights, this should feel totally bizarre, right? After all those years apart, then us hooking up like that.” He waited for another sputtering explosion that never happened. “And yet in some ways this feels completely natural. Which is what makes it so weird.” He sighed. “Am I making any sense at all?”

The Home Depot in their sights, she met his eyes. “Yeah. You are.” Turning into the parking lot, she added, “Which only goes to show how bad off I am.”

However, once in the store, Tess impressed the hell out of him by charging straight to the cabinet section, no veering off down aisles they didn’t need to be. And within maybe thirty seconds of his showing her the few options that were not only in stock, but within their meager budget, she said, “That one. See you in Paint,” and off she went, leaving him to order what they needed. Not surprisingly, by the time he caught up with her in the paint department, the first of four different colors were being mixed up.

Leaning against the paint counter, Eli softly laughed.

“What’s so funny now?”

“Just never met a gal who didn’t prevaricate for a week about choosing paint colors. Took my mom three months to decide what color to repaint the living room, another month to choose the carpet to go with it.”

“And you’re basing all women on that one experience?”

“Nope. My ex-sister-in-law was just as bad. And there might’ve been a girlfriend or two along the way who’d watched one too many episodes on HGTV who’d dragged me shopping with her. Drove me nuts. Me, I point to something, say, ‘Yeah, that one,’ and that’s it. Half makes me wonder if you’re really a woman.”

Tess gave him a look. Eli grinned harder.

“So,” she said, moving smartly along, “you got close enough to a ‘girlfriend or two’ to do the decorating thing?”

“Not by choice, believe me.” He paused. “And that pretty much signaled the end of those relationships, too.”

“Death by paint chips?”

“You wanna send a man to hell, show him fifteen different shades of white and ask him which one he likes better.”

Tess laughed, and Eli smiled, thinking, Don’t stop. The dude clunked the first two gallons up on the counter, went to work on the next batch. “I’m not a ditherer. Especially when it’s not for me,” she said, skimming a finger along one can’s rim. A beat or two passed before she looked back at him. “And I’ve learned the sorts of colors more likely lead to an offer. Warm neutrals,” she said, holding up a swatch that reminded him of coffee with too much cream.

A few feet away, a couple started bickering with each other in Spanish. Figuring it wasn’t exactly a private affair, Eli didn’t even pretend not to listen in. Except they were talking too fast for him to pick out more than a word here and there. He nudged Tess with his elbow. “What’re they saying?” he whispered.

“What?” she said, then glanced over her shoulder. Shaking her head, she turned back to her paint swatches. “Something about his mother, but that’s about all I can make out. My Spanish is from hunger, remember?”

“Why is that?”

She shrugged. “Mom never let me speak it. She considered it low class. What do you think of this for the dining room?” she said, holding up another swatch.

“It’s…yellow? And what do you mean your mother considered it low class?”

“Just what I said. Not a whole lot of Latino love goin’ on in my house growing up. And can we please change the subject?”

He got the message. “You got a painter lined up?”

“Yeah. Me.”

“You?”

Again with the eyes. “I painted my whole house myself. I imagine I’ll be okay with a few accent walls and a bathroom. And it’ll help stay within the budget.” Grunting softly, she hefted first one can, then the other into the cart. “I’ve become very handy over the years, I’ll have you know.”

“You one of those gals who changes her own tires?”

“One of my least favorite jobs in the world, but yep. And my oil, sparkplugs and filters, too.”

“Impressive.”

“Not at all. Just easier than depending on someone else,” she said as the next can of paint appeared in front of them. Eli grabbed it before she did, if for no other reason than to avoid the strange look the paint-mixer dude was giving him. Maybe because Tess weighed less than the paint.

Forty-five minutes later—after choosing the cabinet hardware, backsplash tile and bathroom vanity and fixtures with equal efficiency—they were back in her SUV and Eli realized he was starving.

“Hey. Wanna burger or something? My treat.”

“I can buy my own lunch—”

“I’m sure you can, but you’re not gonna today. So deal. So what’ll it be? Mickey D’s, Wendy’s or Burger King?”

“I think my arteries just screamed.”