“Hello-o,” Adam’s voice called from the hallway, and excitement tingled down her spine. It was barely eight o’clock—early by Adam’s standards. Carrie was glad because the snow that was melting during the day had frozen into patches of black ice on the roads. Why he had to go into work in those conditions was beyond her. She understood that as the owner of such a large brewery and restaurant, he would have a lot of work to do, but couldn’t he find some way to divvy that work out to allow himself more of a life?
“Hey, honey!” Joyce called from her spot at the counter where she was getting glasses from the cupboard and filling them all with ice. “How was work?”
“Good,” he said emerging and clapping Walter on the back. “How are you, Gramps?”
“Not too bad. My knees have seen better days, but I can’t complain.”
There it was: that grin that completely wrecked her nerves. Carrie could feel the jitters returning, and she busied her hands by cutting more tomatoes. She didn’t want to look at him because his blue eyes on her made the shaking in her hands worse. She worried that he didn’t want her at supper, and she was there again when he got home, talking to his family. Did it bother him? She wished there was some way that she could tell him that Joyce had invited her, but as usual, her thoughts were all running wild with the excitement of seeing him, and she couldn’t focus enough to start a general conversation, let alone weave in something like that. Last time she’d tried, she’d critiqued his beer labels. She’d better not try again. As she chopped, she wondered if she still had blush on her cheeks and if her hair looked nice. She glanced down at her shirt just to be sure it didn’t have anything on it from cooking. A tiny spot of tomato juice had splashed on her chest and made a spot. She should’ve worn an apron.
“My goodness, child!” Joyce laughed. “That’s a lot of tomatoes! You don’t need to cut any more. Thank you for doing it.” She’d converted her nervous energy into chopping, and only then did she realize that she’d just chopped enough tomatoes for an entire army. Joyce set the bowl that reminded her of his ex-wife down next to her. It taunted her, reminding her that she wasn’t even in his league.
“How were the kids today?” Adam asked, and she jumped a little at how close he was.
She swallowed. “They were fine.”
She knew he was fatigued by the way he blinked his eyes, but his face was friendly and alive despite how tired he was. That all-too-familiar curiosity was there in his face as he looked at her. He was finally here again, in the moment. She drank it up like a warm mug of hot chocolate on an icy day—savoring every minute. She got so jumpy around him, because she worried that he could sense her feelings, and she knew that she wasn’t successful enough, polished enough for him. She tripped in high heels, she preferred to tuck her feet underneath herself on the sofa rather than crossing her legs, she took long walks on the street lining the meadow back home for fun. There was nothing about her that was high-powered, businesslike—nothing he probably encountered at the office.
He pulled a glass from the counter beside her and filled it with tea from a pitcher a little farther down. “Want some?” he asked, holding the pitcher up in offering.
She didn’t know what to do. He was asking her if she wanted iced tea. That seemed simple enough. But the way he’d acted yesterday had made her feel like he didn’t want her there, so she didn’t know if it was a trick question. Was he just offering to be polite, but she was supposed to decline? Or did he really just want to know if she’d like iced tea? She felt her mouth drying out and her hands starting to shake again. This time, she didn’t have anything to do with her hands, so she put them in her pockets.
“Would you like something else?” he asked, the skin between his eyes wrinkling the way it had when he was reading at his desk.
She shook her head.
“So… you want tea?”
Carrie watched his eyes for any indication that he wasn’t legitimately asking her what she wanted to drink, but she couldn’t find anything there. “Tea would be nice,” she said, “As long as it’s okay with you.” She drew out the word “you,” her gaze on him in a direct way.
He pulled back as if trying to focus on her, a grin playing at his lips. “I’m perfectly fine if you have tea.” His amusement was clear, causing a tickling inside her stomach. “We have an entire pitcher of it here, and I have more tea bags in the pantry.” Carrie pulled her eyes away from him to try and calm her beating heart, and she happened to glance at Joyce. The look on her face was completely unexpected. She was watching them, her lower back against the counter, her arms crossed in a relaxed way, her eyes warm and her lips set in a smile. She looked positively happy.