Page 50 of If You Were Mine (After We Fall 3)
e floors, I think. I want tile, but I haven’t picked it out yet. Know any good tile places?”
“Actually, I do.” I sat down and opened the pizza box, placing a slice on Claire’s plate and then on mine before closing it up again. “I’ll write the name down for you. Or I could take you there.”
“Really?” She went completely still, salad bowl in her hand.
“Um. Yeah.” It had sort of just slipped out, but it was the kind of thing I enjoyed—helping out someone who needed it. Josie and the girls had Aaron to take care of things at their house now, but Claire was all alone. Just like I was.
Still, I needed to rein myself in. She was going to get confused if I kept sharing things about myself and offering to help her.
“Wow, thanks. That would be great.” She set the bowl down in front of me. “What can I get you to drink? Water? Vernor’s? Cranberry juice?”
“Vernor’s sounds good.”
She plunked a few ice cubes in a glass and poured me some ginger ale, then sat across from me and lifted her wine glass. “Cheers to a second date—I haven’t had many of those lately.”
“Me either.” Or first dates. Not real ones, anyway.
Claire set down her glass and picked up her fork. “By the way, I still want to pay you for your time last night—at least the time you spent at the wedding. It’s only fair.”
I stuck a tomato in my mouth and gave her a look. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t want your money. In fact, I need to give you your hundred bucks back.”
“But it’s your job.” She picked up her wine again and took a quick swallow. “Isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t a complete lie. More of a half-truth. “I also have a carpentry business.” Another not-lie.
Her face lit up like I’d given her a gift. “You do?”
“Yes. I’ve never really been able to make much of it, but I like the work.”
“And you’re good with your hands.” She gave me one of those smiles that chipped away at my rules.
“Thanks.”
“I could definitely use your help around here. I have lots of projects.”
“I’d be glad to help you.” I added quickly, “But I might not be in town too long.”
“That’s right. You move around a lot. It’s one of the only things I know about you.”
I cocked a brow. “I’d say you know a few other things about me.”
Her eyes met mine. “I know how you taste.”
Fuck. I swallowed with difficulty. “Yes. You do.”
She focused on her food. “I’d like to know more, but you’re such a private person.”
“So ask me something,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t have to lie. Part of me wanted to open up a little, but it didn’t come naturally to me.
“What’s your last name?”
Crap. Of course she’d want to know that, but it made me searchable. My conviction was public record. But Claire was so trusting, I didn’t think she’d race to do a background check. “MacLeod.”
She smiled radiantly, as if I’d just given her an amazing gift. “MacLeod. So you’re Scottish?”
I shrugged. “No idea, actually.”
She took another bite of her salad. “I did a family tree when I was in school. I got back eight generations on both sides.”
