Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [48]
“Sure, and another slice of cake. Aren’t you having any?”
“Charlie, I already had three pieces.” She giggled, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, I’ve been so busy eating, I didn’t notice.” Charlie leaned back and patted his stomach. “God, I ate too much. If I ate like this all the time, I’d be as fat as a pig. People shouldn’t eat so much. I know. I used to be fat, and people made fun of me, but I couldn’t seem to stop eating,” he said honestly.
“How would you like to be as skinny as I am and hear people say you look like a scarecrow or a skeleton? I can eat any kind of food I want, but I just can’t gain weight. It might not be so noticeable if I didn’t have such irregular features.”
Charlie stared at Angela. “I think you have interesting features, Angela. You’re no beauty queen, but most girls aren’t. You’re . . .” He searched for just the right word that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. For some reason he really cared about this odd-looking girl with the toobig teeth and strange nose. “You’re just ordinary,” he said sincerely, knowing he meant every word he was thinking and saying.
Angela’s face brightened again. “Do you mean it? You really don’t think I’m ugly? How about homely?”
“Ordinary,” Charlie said firmly as he held out his coffee cup. “Which is a lot better than being awkward like me.”
“You’re just big,” Angela said, leaning her elbows on the table. “Big people are always awkward. It comes with the territory. What really matters is that you have a likeable face. A pleasant face actually,” she said, leaning closer. “And you have a great smile.”
Charlie felt a surge of something, and it had nothing to do with his libido. Protectiveness—that was it. He wanted to wrap himself around her and hold her tight. The feeling startled him. “You mean that?”
Angela stared at Charlie for a full minute before she replied. “You’d better know something about me, Charlie Roman. If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a liar. What you see is what you get.”
Another strange surge coursed through Charlie. He would figure out what it was later. Now he had to leave, or he would be late and Dolph Richards would have his head. He nodded. “Works for me. Hey, I gotta go. I’ll see you later. That was the best dinner I’ve had in years. Thank you,” he said shyly.
Angela blushed. “Hurry up or you’ll be late. When you get home I’ll make some popcorn and we’ll sit on the couch and watch television together.”
Charlie beamed and nodded as he closed the door behind him. God, was he ever lucky that she’d landed on his doorstep. And to think he’d almost blown it. He shook his head and laughed silently.
Charlie returned from work anticipating a relaxed hour or two with Angela. She was as good as her word. A large bowl of hot, buttery popcorn rested on the table. Frosty glasses of beer were set on napkins on the end tables. For over an hour she sat next to him on the sofa in companionable silence, munching, sipping, and watching TV. Reluctantly, Charlie finally had to call it a night. He needed his sleep. Angela yawned and agreed.
“You can have the bathroom first,” Charlie said gallantly.
“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning then. Good night, Charlie,” Angela said quietly. “Oh, I forgot about the dishes. I’ll do them before I use the bathroom. You go ahead.”
“Oh no. You cooked dinner and made the popcorn. I’ll clean up. You go to bed. You look tired. Go on, now,” Charlie said sternly as though he were talking to a child. “Angela,” he added thoughtfully, “if you don’t mind my asking, how old are you?”
She turned to face him. “Is it important? Age is just a number, after all. It’s what’s in here and here that counts.” She tapped her heart and head.
Charlie nodded. If she didn’t want to tell him, he wasn’t going to pry. She hadn’t quizzed him and she hadn’t made any unkind remarks. He would show her the same courtesy. He knew he was older by a good many years and thought maybe that was what made him feel so protective of her. He bent over to pick up the bowl and