“Yes, I’ve heard of Lowry Construction. The owner is Lorelei’s father,” she said, refusing to address his “home is where my wife is” sentiment. “But what do you know about construction?”
The Jeep was running, but Caleb didn’t put it into gear. Instead, he stared out the windshield, shaking his head in what looked like amazement. “I’ve handled a hammer enough times to help frame a house with no problem. I also like to restore old cars, and I’m interested in the preservation of old buildings, something my family has supported in the Baton Rouge and New Orleans areas since before I was born.”
Snow managed a surprised “Oh.”
“You said I don’t know you, but it seems to me you’ve got that backwards.”
Feeling defensive, Snow went for sarcasm. “I can’t help it that we were too busy having sex to have actual conversations.”
“Your favorite ice cream is pistachio,” he said.
“Excuse me?” What did ice cream have to do with this?
“Your favorite food in the world is your grandmother’s fried chicken, which is breaded, not battered. You have a tiny scar on your bottom lip from falling off a stool when you were two, you love the Beatles, and your favorite actor of all time is Paul Newman.”
“How do you—” she started, but Caleb was on a roll.
“You hate Birkenstocks, anchovies, and people who talk during a movie. You sometimes hate your hair, you purr when I slide my fingertips up your bare spine, and your astrological sign is Taurus, which probably explains a lot about this entire situation.”
He’d done it. Caleb had shocked her speechless. Snow didn’t even remember them talking about half of those subjects, but little snippets began to float through her mind. Quiet talks after their lovemaking. Exchanging silly stories over breakfast, usually while they were still naked. How had she forgotten so much?
“I didn’t realize—”
“I was paying attention, Snow. We were never just sex for me.”
Now who looked like the asshole? Snow didn’t know what to say, but she couldn’t keep pretending they were strangers. “We’d better go,” she said. “I need to open the store.”
“Right.” Caleb shifted into first gear. “The store.”
Several miles of silence later, as they rolled into downtown Ardent Springs, Snow said, “Chocolate is your favorite.”
“My what?” Caleb asked, parallel parking in front of the store entrance.
She put her hand over his on the shifter. “Chocolate is your favorite flavor of ice cream. And you like action movies, especially ones with car chases.” Her smile was meant as an apology. “I remember now.”
Dropping a kiss on her nose, he said, “Took you long enough. Do you want me to hang out here today?”
Scrunching up her face, she said, “Not really. You’d be bored out of your skull within an hour.”
“What time do you close?”
“For the next couple weeks it’s five on Sundays, then I’ll extend the hours as we get closer to the Christmas season.”
“Okay, then.” Caleb opened his door. “I’ll carry the painting in and see you at home later.”
For the first time in eighteen months, Snow would finish the day by going home to her husband. The thought appealed more than she was willing to admit. Maybe convincing Caleb that they were wrong for each other would be easier if she convinced her heart first.
Snow was relieved to have ten minutes before the clock would strike noon and the second half of her day would begin. The first part had already been more than she could process. Caleb had helped her find a deal that could take her shop to the next level, but he’d also bounced among arrogant, spoiled, and possessive. Not to mention his penchant for winning over the locals with no effort whatsoever. If they knew he was filthy rich and had done nothing to earn a penny of it, they wouldn’t be so inviting.
Dropping her head into her hands, Snow hated that the previous thought had even entered her mind. His parents had turned their noses up at her lack of money and substance, and she was doing the same thing to Caleb for the opposite reason. He was right—a person didn’t get to choose the circumstances into which he was born. Holding his trust fund against him was no better than all the prejudice she and her family had endured over the years.
Granted, Caleb could walk away from the money, but why would he? It wasn’t as if the elder McGraw had made his fortune selling drugs or something. As far as Snow could tell, the man was a workaholic who put his business dealings above all else. Including his son.