Walker Pride
Chapter Eleven
The drive back to town didn’t even bother Susan as she was tossed back and forth in her seat on the dirt road. She’d caught sight of her stupid grin in the mirror a time or two, but she couldn’t stop.
Oh, she hadn’t moved to Georgia to meet a man, but she had. She’d met him at his grandfather’s funeral. How morbid was that? Honestly, she couldn’t even say she liked him that much when she’d met him. She’d thought he was rude picking food off the trays. But now—she sighed—now she couldn’t wait to see him again.
There was a fluttering in her chest and a nervous energy that pulsed through her as she merged onto the highway from the dirt road she’d been driving. It humored her that he could live so far away and yet at the end of that road there was a big city sprawling before them.
He was going to come to her in the morning and have breakfast—breakfast in her kitchen on her plates.
What should she make? She could make a wonderful spinach frittata. She’d ask Bethany first. Maybe she’d have some insight into what he liked to eat.
Of course a few hours later when she posed that question to Bethany she was met with laughter.
“Are you kidding? How do I know what he likes? I don’t know the man at all, really.”
Susan hadn’t really considered that.
“I guess I make it and we find out.”
Bethany stood at the kitchen table wrapping plastic silverware in paper napkins and then dropping them into the plastic bucket that would hold them. “Why are you asking? Are you planning on making him another meal?”
Susan bit down on her lip as she chopped tomatoes, lifted them on the side of her knife, and deposited them into the bowl.
“I invited him over for breakfast.”
Bethany continued her job without laughing or appearing too surprised. “What do you have going with Eric?”
“Eric and I have a thing. I mean neither of us know what’s going on. We’re both terribly awkward about it, but,” she sighed, “when he kisses me I can’t even think.”
“You’re kissing him?”
“It happened this morning.”
“You were with him this morning?”
Susan nodded. “He made me breakfast.”
“You were gone awfully early.”
Susan grinned. “I was taking photos.”
“Right.”
“No, really. I was.”
Bethany dropped the last roll of silverware into the tub and then closed it with a lid. “And just how early did you leave for breakfast? Last night?”
Susan could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. They were adults. It was fair of her to think that. “I left early this morning to catch the sunrise. My intent wasn’t to do more than be early enough for the sunrise. But he went out to the barn to feed the horses, and well…” She sighed as she thought of it. “One thing led to another.”
Bethany walked across the kitchen and stood next to her, leaning a hip on the counter.
“I can’t believe you’re dating my cousin.”
Susan let out a snort. “You and his brothers are very free with that word.”
“You’re not dating?”
“We’re exploring the possibilities.”
Bethany took a grape tomato from the wash pile and popped it into her mouth much like Eric had. “Did you know him before the funeral?”
“No.”
“You’re a very trusting person, aren’t you?”
Susan shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“I do. I’ve known you three days and I live with you. He’s known you four days and you’re dating him.”
Susan couldn’t help but burst into laughter. It sounded ridiculous. “Perhaps I’m desperate for company.”
“I think if that were the case you’d never have moved to Georgia.”
Her smile disappeared then. “Right.”
“I just treaded on something.”
“Nothing. Can you get that asparagus out of the refrigerator in the garage? We need to get it washed and cut.”
Bethany puckered her lips, but her grin was still there as she walked out of the kitchen.
Susan let out a long breath and gathered her thoughts. The morning had slipped away from her and Eric and they hadn’t discussed her reasons for leaving Colorado. Perhaps it was time to face the reasons she had left before she dove into a new relationship.
Suddenly tears stung her eyes. She batted them away as quickly as possible.
Susan wasn’t quite ready to face it all, she realized.