“How long have you lived here?”
“Eight years. I grew up a few hours away, in Cartersville. It’s just outside-
“Sacramento,” she said, her voice tinged with surprise. “I’m from Farmington.”
He pondered that as he added water to the pot, then snagged a filter. “So we grew up not fifteen miles away from each other.”
“So it seems.” She grinned. “We probably saw each other at the mall a dozen times.”
“Doubtful. I rarely hung out at the mall, and besides, I would have remembered seeing you.”
“A very kind-and appreciated-attempt at flattery, but if you’d seen me in high school you would have run the other way.”
“Again, I’ve gotta say doubtful. But why’s that?”
She grimaced. “I can describe my look in one word-frightening. Bride of Frankenstein hair, braces, zits-not the sort of girl who attracted much male attention.” She batted her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “I’ve improved with age.”
He smiled. “You can say that again.”
Carlie’s breath caught at that smile and she offered up a silent prayer of thanks that she was sitting down because those darn dimples of his turned her knees to jelly. Since the urge to reach out and trace those sexy creases in his cheek was all but slapping her in the face, she forced her gaze down to his hands and watched him scoop coffee grounds into the filter.
Hmmm…he had really nice hands. Big, broad, long-fingered. Strong and capable. An image of them running up her bare thighs popped into her mind-
Okay, looking at his hands was not helping.
Better to get the conversational ball rolling again. “So why are you moving?” she asked, focusing her attention on his coffee maker.
“New job.”
“I thought you owned your own business. Something with computers, right?”
He nodded. “I build and maintain websites.”
Her uncooperative gaze had abandoned the coffee maker and slid back up to his face and she was captivated by his glasses sliding down his nose when he nodded. Since his hands were still busy scooping, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself, she reached out and gently slid the frames back into place.
He went perfectly still. Behind the black-edged frames, his gaze held hers. For several long seconds neither spoke. It seemed to her as if some sort of sexually charged steam engulfed them and her heart beat so loud she wondered if he could hear it.
Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Which was a total lie. There was a
“They slide down all the time. I probably should just wear contacts-”
“No!” she said quickly and a tad too loudly. His brows shot up and she coughed to cover her outburst, then added more gently, “I mean, your glasses…they suit you.”
“Right. It completes the computer geek look.”
“Well, not exactly. For the
His lips twitched. “I have that outfit. You want me to go change?”
Her gaze wandered over his broad shoulders and chest, which filled out his black polo shirt very nicely. The width of his chest suggested he must bench press computers as well as build websites with them.
“No need to change on my account,” she said, relieved she sounded so breezy. “You look…”
“Thanks,” he said, then poured all the grinds in the filter back into the coffee can.
“Why’d you do that?” she asked.
“I, uh, lost count when you pushed up my glasses.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“I wasn’t complaining.” His smile flashed, then he returned his attention back to coffee scooping.
She waited until he finished, absolutely
“A manager for Allied Computers’ I.T. department. In Boston.”
“Huge change. What about your website business?”
“I’m not taking on any new clients, but I’ll continue to maintain the sites I’ve already designed. Updates aren’t that time consuming-not like designing and constructing a site-and it’ll provide a nice side income.”
“New job, new city-you must be pretty excited about all that.”
A frown furrowed his brow. “Uh, yeah.” He flicked the coffee maker’s “on” switch.
She studied him for several seconds while he busied himself putting the lid on the coffee can. “Must be difficult to leave this town behind.”
His head jerked up from his task and their eyes met, his filled with surprise. “What are you, some sort of mind reader?”
If only. She’d give a lot to know what was on his mind, to know if
“It’s a great place to live,” he agreed in a voice Carlie thought sounded decidedly wistful.
“I think so. I’m glad I decided to move in after all.”
“You weren’t going to?”
She shook her head. “My roommate eloped after I’d signed the lease and I would have lost three months’ rent if I’d backed out. Financially, the rent payment’s a stretch, especially with the cost of books and tuition, but I love the house and yard so much, I decided to just dip into my savings and suck it up for the next year until I earn my bachelor’s degree.”
“What are you studying?”
“Occupational therapy.”
“I’ve heard of that, but I can’t say I really know what an occupational therapist does.”
“We help people whose living skills have been compromised, through accidents or illness or birth defects.”
He came around the snack bar and sat on the chair next to her. “How did you come to be interested in that?”
Maybe it was because he sounded genuinely interested, or perhaps an attack of the babbles, but she started talking, and before she knew it, she’d told him all about her grandfather’s debilitating stroke and about Marlene, the incredible occupational therapist who had made such a difference in Pop’s quality of life.
“Pop and Gran had always been so active together-swimming, golf, tennis,” she said softly, an image of her beloved grandparents flashing in her mind. “His stroke devastated both of them. Our entire family. I was just finishing high school at the time, and after I saw the difference Marlene made in Pop’s recovery, I knew the career path I wanted to follow.” She drew a deep breath, enjoying the redolence of brewing coffee. “Unfortunately the school I dreamed of attending was expensive and money was extremely tight. So instead of starting college right away, I decided to get my license as a massage therapist. That way I could earn money for school and still work once I started classes. Now I go to school part-time, work part-time at The Delaford’s spa, and take private clients on the side.”
“The Delaford doesn’t mind you doing that?”
“No, since the spa is only open to resort guests. Which is one reason why Austell is so perfect for me. It’s central to both The Delaford and school. I just need to find a way to attract more private clients. Right now it’s all word of mouth. I don’t like advertising in the newspaper because no matter how the ad is worded, it still comes across like I’m running a massage parlor.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze resting on hers, and she forced herself to pause for breath. After several seconds of silence during which he continued to study her, an embarrassed warmth crept up her neck. Yikes, he probably thought she was a total blabbermouth. With a nervous laugh, she said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on and on. I told you more than you ever wanted to know, I’m sure.”
