Where Azaleas Bloom

“If you say so.”

“Is that a yes? I can give Rosalina’s a call?”

“Sure, why not?” she said.

“I’ll order a salad, too. We can pretend we’re being healthy. How about soda? You want a bottle of soda to go with that?” he asked, already hitting speed dial on his cell phone.

“You have their number programmed into your phone?” she teased.

“And the entire menu memorized,” he said unrepentantly. “Now, about that soda?”

“Sure. Diet soda, if that’s okay.”

“Suits me.” He placed the order, then sat back and took a good long look at the woman seated across the table. She looked different somehow.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked, squirming uncomfortably.

“You look different.”

“Different how?”

“More rested, I guess. Did you take a nap this afternoon?”

She shook her head, but there was an odd smile tugging at her lips.

“Well, your eyes are brighter. It looks good.”

To his surprise, she actually laughed the way he’d remembered. “What?” he demanded.

“It’s eye makeup. Raylene swore to me that men never noticed things like that, so I put some on for the first time in ages.”

Mitch could see it, then, the thin stroke of liner on her lids, the hint of pale blue shadow, the darkened lashes.

“Was that for my benefit?” he asked, oddly pleased to think it might be.

She blushed furiously at the question. “Maybe it was just a test. Maybe I was trying to prove her wrong, to show her that some men are observant.”

He grinned at the deliberate evasion. So she wasn’t totally immune, after all. Now he just needed to figure out what he wanted to do with that information.

6

When Lynn saw the enormous amount of food Mitch had ordered, she blinked. “Were you planning on feeding an army?”

“What can I say? I like pizza and salad, and leftovers are always good, right? The kids will gobble this right up.”

She saw the ploy for what it was, a face-saving way to put a little extra food on her table. Before she could call him on it, he frowned at her.

“Do not make a fuss over this, Lynnie,” he said, resorting to the nickname only he had ever dared to use. “It’s pizza. I’m not having steaks and champagne delivered, along with boxes of fresh produce.”

“You should take the leftovers home with you,” she insisted with a touch of defiance. She wasn’t about to tolerate his pity.

“Nate’s coming home this weekend. We’ll be going out to eat, more than likely.”

“But did you ever know a college kid who couldn’t eat his weight in pizza?” she countered just as stubbornly.

“How about we wait and see how many leftovers there are?” he suggested. “I have a big appetite. And the kids might turn up and want their share.”

“The Jolly Green Giant doesn’t have a big enough appetite to go through this much food,” she insisted. “And the kids are eating with friends.”

“You realize while we’re debating this, the pizza’s getting cold,” he said, reaching for a slice.

She started to argue some more, but finally relented. It was clearly futile, at least for now. “Okay,” she said, then warned, “but the discussion’s not over.”

He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

Regarding him with frustration, she asked, “Do you have to win every argument?”

“Only when I’m right,” he said. “And, just so you know, I’ve never been afraid to admit when I’m wrong, either.”

“Now that I can hardly wait to see,” Lynn told him, taking her first bite of pizza and nearly choking at the heat that burst in her mouth. It was true that the slice had cooled, but the jalapeños hadn’t.

“Come on, wimp. It’s not that hot,” Mitch teased as she began picking off the jalapeños.

“Are you kidding me? I could heat the house from the fire in these things.”

“So, no more jalapeños for you,” he said, looking disappointed.

“No, no, I left one piece on here,” she said, pointing out a tiny sliver. “Just enough for a hint of spice.”

Mitch studied her for a minute. “Is that the way you want to live your life these days, Lynn? Being safe, with barely enough spice to keep things interesting?”

She thought she detected a hint of criticism in there, but it was a legitimate question. “For now, yes,” she told him. “For the kids’ sake I have to be cautious. Things are topsy-turvy enough around here without my rushing into things.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? I thought you weren’t looking for anything more right now, either,” she said, puzzled by his reaction.

“I wasn’t,” he said, then added more firmly, “I’m not.”

“But?”

“I seem to be a lot more open to the possibilities than I was a few days ago.” He looked into her eyes. “And just so you know, I’m probably no crazier about that than you are.”

Lynn was rattled by his candor. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response.

They continued eating in silence. To her surprise, it didn’t feel the least bit strained. It felt…comfortable.

“Maybe we should pretend we never had this conversation,” she suggested eventually. “We could just go on working together, be friends, no complications.”