The Irish guy had been in the shower fifteen minutes. “And they think women take forever.” He just wants you to come fetch him, Bart said. He sat on the counter watching her cook, feet swinging to and fro. “I’m not going there,” she replied. You don’t trust him. “Not entirely.” Gavenia fidgeted with a strand of hair. “What do you think of him?” He’s got about as many issues as you do; maybe more. “That’s not what I asked.” If he were a cowboy, he’d be wearing a white hat. “And?” she said. She felt like a teenager quizzing her dad about his reaction to her prom date. I like him. Bart jumped down from the counter and headed for the leather recliner. “Where you ever in love?” she asked. He stopped midstride and turned toward her, his face solemn. Yes. She was . . . everything. “Where you married?” He slowly shook his head. No, we never had a chance. Someone came between us. Gavenia’s heart tightened. Why had she never asked about that before? Why hadn’t she realized he’d left an entire life behind, perhaps even someone he loved?
