“The dinner choice of champions,” Heather said. “If that’s what you want, then let’s do it.”
Chapter Ten
Tipsy decisions weren’t always the most thought out. Vivien guessed that most people would say they led to regrets. However, in Vivien’s experience, they often led to an entertaining story she told later with pride. Life was to be lived and enjoyed. Mistakes were to be learned from and sometimes laughed at. In every aspect of her existence, she had lived life to the fullest, except for one.
Love.
When it came to love, she’d bottled that feeling and locked it away with the pain of losing Sam. He became the excuse that kept her from feeling deeply for another man. He became the shield over her heart. He became the catalyst to live fully, without loving fully, without risking herself or her heart.
It wasn’t closure she’d found in saying goodbye to Sam, not like she thought. There wasn’t some giant weight that lifted from her heart. Her love did not lessen. However, in telling him she had to move on, she was finally able to see the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Heather was right. Perhaps a person got more than one true love in life. One feeling did not negate another.
Vivien knew walking up to Troy’s front door and knocking might be a mistake, one she couldn’t take back later, but still she found herself standing on his doorstep. She didn’t know if Troy was some future great love, but there was no denying her attraction to him. Plus, she trusted Heather and Lorna’s assessment of the situation.
Vivien lifted her hand, only to let it drop without knocking. This wasn’t a booty call type situation. Troy wasn’t a one-night-stand guy. She knew that as sure as she knew her own name.
Vivien turned to go, stopped mid-step, and turned back to the house. She again lifted her hand and hesitated.
“Thank you for saving me from the water last night. Want to go make out?” she said under her breath to the door. “And I sound lame.”
Vivien scrunched up her nose, dropped her hand, and started to leave. This time she made it two steps before turning back around.
She didn’t bother lifting her hand as she said to the door, “Hi, Troy. I’m not really good at this dating thing. I mean, I’m good. I’m really good at what you do when you’re,” she frowned and mumbled, “dating.”
She bit her lip and scrunched up her face. Why was this so difficult? She talked to men all the time. Flirting wasn’t hard. Hell, half the time all she had to do was smile.
“I like you. I know I sound like I’m all over the place when we talk. You found me walking into the ocean. And the truth is…”
The truth? She couldn’t tell him she was following her dead husband into the afterlife.
“The truth is I like you.” Vivien sighed and lifted her hand to knock.
“I like you too.”
Vivien gasped as she spun to the side. Troy came from around the corner of the house.
“Though, I’m totally cool if you want to go with option number one and make out with me,” he added with a grin.
“You heard all that.” Vivien glanced toward her home.
Troy chuckled. “Yeah, I heard all that. I was going to interrupt sooner, but you looked deep in thought.”
If she ran, she could be through her front door within a few seconds. How often did people need to see their neighbors anyway?
“If it helps, I’m glad I did. You aren’t exactly the easiest woman to read,” he said. “I thought maybe my signals were off.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me.” Vivien laughed. “Normally they tell me I talk too much and need to keep things to myself.”
“I don’t know who they are, but I would venture to guess they aren’t worth listening to.” He walked around to the front step of his home. “Can I assume you’d like to come inside?”
Vivien again glanced at her house. She saw the curtain move and realized her friends were peeking at her from the window.
“Yeah, they’ve been watching us.” Troy waved toward Lorna and Heather. The curtain dropped.
“Were you at the beach doing environmental research?” she asked, trying to make the conversation closer to normal.
“Yeah, that. I have a confession to make.” Troy paused before going to open the door. “When we met you were carrying up a bunch of empty beer bottles that you’d gathered on the beach. I was making a joke about writing a book on the anthropological study of modern beach culture and its impact on the environment. I thought I was clever, and I was trying to impress you. Then the next time you asked about it, and I realized you thought I was serious, I wasn’t sure how to rewind it.”
“So you’re not writing an anthropological study of modern beach culture and its impact on the environment?” she asked.
He shook his head in denial. “Not exactly.”
“Do you even teach college?” Vivien arched a brow and studied him. She didn’t get a lying vibe off him. Were her psychic senses that far off? And was this how non-psychic people felt when they interacted with each other? All this uncertainty?
“Yes. I teach college classes.”
“Then is there a reason you don’t own a car? I had assumed the reason was you were into the environment.”
“I never needed one. I always lived in places with public transportation. Or I bike.”
“What are you doing here if not writing about tourist impact on the beach?”
“I needed a change,” he said. “So I’m piloting a program to move more classes online, writing the lessons, modifying the in-class curriculum to work for distance learning, deciding what needs to be in a video format instead of written. If it works, and it should, I’ll be able to work from anywhere.”
“So you’re what? A techie?”
“Somewhat.” Troy smiled.
If this was anyone else, she would have been able to sense all of that. With Troy there was an air of mystery. She picked up psychic whispers about him—he was a decent guy, he was attracted to her, he would want commitment over a one-night stand—but that was all.
“Where are you from?” she asked, testing her senses. Maybe somewhere north?
“Colorado, originally,” he answered.
“And not originally?”
“I’ve lived in Oregon, California, Nebraska, here.”
Oregon was in the northern United States. Not the north she’d been thinking about when the word popped in her head, but north. “And you teach what? Proust?”
Troy moved past her and finally opened the door. He’d left it unlocked so didn’t need a key.
“Yes, a few times, but mostly I teach core curriculum classes.” He gestured for her to go inside. “Did this just turn into a job interview?”
“Interrogation,” Vivien retorted as she moved past him to go inside.
She’d seen the home when it had been inhabited by past renters. Troy’s decorating choices were non-existent. Just beyond the entryway, he had textbooks piled on the floor next to the couch, flat-screen television on a stand, and a charging laptop on the coffee table next to a remote. It appeared as if he worked in the living room.