A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [38]
Melissa was oddly reluctant to see Steven Creed go, even though she hadn’t wanted him there in the first place.
He was just too—much. Too good-looking. Too sexy. Too lots of things.
All of which worked together to make her say the crazy thing she said next.
“What if you and your—you and Mr. Creed—came to my house for supper, instead?” I’m not the greatest cook in the world, Melissa thought to herself, but my sister is, and I’m willing to raid her freezer for an entrée even though it means risking another encounter with a naked croquet team.
Matt giggled, probably at the reference to “Mr. Creed,” and then swung around to look up at the man standing behind him.
“Can we?” he asked eagerly. “Please?”
Steven’s smile seemed a touch wistful to Melissa; he probably thought she’d suggested supper at her place to be polite, as a way of letting him off the hook for the impulsive invitation Matt had issued.
He’d be right, if he thought that, Melissa concluded, but she still hoped he’d say yes. And it surprised her how much she hoped that.
“Six o’clock?” Melissa added, when Steven still hesitated.
He sighed, looked down at Matt, shook his head. “We didn’t leave the lady with much choice now, did we?” he said to the boy.
“It would be nice to have company,” Melissa heard herself say. Her voice was softer than usual, and a little tentative. It came to her that she was going to be very disappointed if Steven refused, which was just one more indication that she was losing her ever-loving mind, since she should have been relieved. “And it’s no trouble. Really.”
That last part was certainly no lie. She’d snitch one of the culinary triumphs Ashley always kept on hand, in case of God knew what kind of food emergency, slip some foil-covered casserole dish into the oven at her place, and gladly accept all the accolades.
Without actually claiming the cooking credit, of course. If anybody asked, she wouldn’t lie. If they didn’t ask, on the other hand, why say anything at all?
Steven still looked troubled, but Melissa could tell that he wanted to take her up on the offer, too, and that knowledge did funny things to her heart.
“How else are you going to get to know people in Stone Creek,” Melissa urged, starting toward the door as though supper were a done deal, “if you don’t let them feed you? It’s the way we country folks do things, you know. Your best bull dies? We feed you. Your house burns down? We feed you. Not that being new in town falls into that kind of category—”
Why was she rattling on like this, making an idiot of herself?
At last, Steven made a decision. “Okay, six o’clock,” he said. “Can we bring anything?”
Matt let out a whoop of delight, and the dog joined the celebration with a happy bark.
“Just bring yourselves,” Melissa said.
Steven, Matt and the dog followed her out into the brightness of afternoon. Splotches of silver and gold sunlight danced and flickered on the waters of the creek as they burbled by.
A smile flashed in Steven’s eyes when Melissa tossed her purse and clipboard into the passenger seat of her roadster.
“That’s some ride,” he said. “I was admiring it earlier.”
The remark seemed oddly personal, as though he’d commented on the shape of her backside or the curve of her breasts or the scent of her hair.
And Melissa was immensely pleased.
“Thanks,” she replied, her tone modest, her cheeks warm.
“One question, though,” Steven went on, opening the door of the ginormous blue truck parked next to the roadster. The dog went in first, then the little boy, who submitted fretfully to being fastened into a safety seat. Melissa waited for the question to come.
Steven didn’t ask it until he’d shut the truck door again and turned to face her. “Where exactly do you live?”
Their toes were practically touching; Melissa breathed in the green-grass, sun-dried laundry smell of him, felt dizzy.
“I’ve never been very good at giving directions,” she said, when she thought she could talk without sounding weird. “Why don’t you follow me over right now? That way, when you come back later,