She stared at him for a second, unable to speak. To just be with someone…not to have to explain or fill the silence or present your best self. She ached for that, she realised. “That’s the best thing in the world,” she said slowly, “to have someone like that in your life.”
“Yes.” Roger cleared his throat again, and Lindy thought he must have been struggling with a depth of emotion he didn’t normally feel, just as she was. How odd, that they should experience it here, together. That they could bring it out in one another. “Yes, it is.”
They were both quiet then, and while it wasn’t quite the ‘just be’ type of silence they’d been talking about, it came close. Closer, at least, than anything Lindy had experienced in some time.
“You must be close to your mum,” she said after a moment, wanting to keep the conversation going, for Roger had suddenly started to look as if he might drain the last of his Coke and scarper, “since you’ve agreed to the dancing lessons.”
“Yes, we’re close.” Roger looked as if he was thinking of saying something more, but then decided not to. “Although whether we will still be close after I’ve stepped on her toes for two months running remains to be seen.”
“It’s the foxtrot this week,” Lindy told him. “Nothing too scary.”
“I have never been scared of dancing,” Roger replied with dignity. “I’m simply not proficient in it.”
“Which is the whole point of the class.”
“Indeed.” He gave a rather regal nod and Lindy smiled at him, liking the way his hair curled a bit by his ears, the warm brown of his eyes. He held himself stiffly but his body was powerful and for a scorching second Lindy wondered how it would feel pressed against hers…if she put her arms around him, if she kissed him.
She felt a blush begin to heat her face as she imagined it. Was she actually crushing on Roger Wentworth? It appeared she was. Rather badly. How absolutely odd, considering she didn’t do crushes, and she hardly thought she’d have one on someone like Roger. And yet…
“I should get on,” Roger said abruptly, pushing away his glass and rising in one sudden lurch.
“I suppose I should, too,” Lindy said quickly, although there wasn’t anything really to go back to. “Let me just pay for the Cokes and we can walk out together.”
“I’ll pay for the Cokes,” Roger said firmly.
“But I’m the one who asked…”
“Even so.” He was clearly not going to brook any argument whatsoever, and Lindy decided she rather liked the idea of him paying for their drinks. It made this feel more like a date.
“Thank you,” she said when Roger had come back from the till, and they walked out into the early evening together, the town’s busy high street now starting to empty out of day trippers. “Where are you parked?” Lindy asked. “I’m up at the top of the road…”
“I parked at the bottom, by the bridge.”
They stared at each other; now was the time for goodbye. Lindy willed him to ask her out again. For dinner, or a movie…anything. She realised just how much she wanted him to, and why shouldn’t he? They clearly got along. Well, sort of. And yet as he jangled his keys in his pocket, looking rather severe, she knew he wouldn’t.
“This was fun,” she said, and could not bring herself to add ‘we should do it again,’ fearing it would sound too desperate.
“Thank you for the invitation.”
“You’re welcome.”
Another uneasy pause, accompanied by more jangling of keys. Please say something, Lindy thought silently. Yet what? Did she actually want him to ask her out? Of course, she could ask him out, on a proper date. She was a liberated woman; there was no reason not to, if it was what she wanted. Yet was it? She wasn’t entirely sure. Roger could be kind, but he was also hard work. And she wasn’t even sure he liked her. Besides, she wanted him to do something. To want to do something.
And he didn’t.
“I suppose I shall see you on Monday, at class,” he said, and she nodded. “You’ll make an application with Blue Cross?”
“Yes, as soon as I get home.”
“Very good.” He gave one more nod, another jangle, and then he started walking down the street, a stiff yet quick gait that made Lindy fear he couldn’t get away fast enough. After the fizzy excitement and pleasure of the afternoon, she felt her mood tumbling down, down, down, so unlike her usual determined optimism, and yet she couldn’t keep herself from it, although she tried.
It didn’t really matter, she told herself as pragmatically as she could as she headed back up the high street towards her car. So what if he hadn’t asked her out on a date? It wasn’t the end of the world, far from it, considering how ambivalent she’d been feeling about the prospect. Hopefully she’d soon have Toby the greyhound, or another one of the rescue dogs, for companionship. She really didn’t need Roger Wentworth to pay her attention.
And yet she couldn’t keep from one last disconsolate look behind her to glimpse him walking down the street; he was no more than a speck in the distance, striding quickly and purposefully away.
Chapter Seven
Lindy gave her reflection another quick and nervous glance—about the fifth one in the last ten minutes. It was Monday, and her students—including Roger—were about to arrive. Had she gone too overboard with her outfit? She loved to dress up for her dance classes, and the flowing ballgown in rusty-red satin—the same colour as fox fur—had seemed a perfect choice to introduce the foxtrot.
Yet now, as she glanced at herself yet again in the mirror, she wondered if she looked a bit too brazen. The V-neck of the gown was only just on the right side of plunging, and the cleavage on display was a bit more than she was used to or comfortable with. She didn’t want to give Roger an eyeful, and yet…she sort of did.
He’d been in her thoughts a great deal in the forty-eight hours since she’d said goodbye to him in Burford. Too much, maybe. On Sunday she’d gone out to brunch in Witney with Emily and Olivia, and while it had been a very pleasant time, she’d been hopelessly distracted, wondering how Roger would act when she saw him again. Thinking about actually asking him out on a proper, honest-to-goodness date. Why not? What did she have to lose?
Well, her dignity, perhaps. Her pride, as well. Hopefully not more than that, if he refused. She liked him, despite or perhaps because of his quirkiness, but her heart was definitely not more dangerously engaged. Not yet. She wasn’t even sure it ever would be. As quirkily charming as Roger could be, he was also sometimes pedantic, pompous, or just plain difficult.
And yet…she kept thinking about the warmth of his eyes, that little quirk of his smile, the heartfelt tone he’d used when he’d been talking about losing his dad. All of it made her want to ask him out—or preferably, for him to ask her out, but she had a rather decided feeling that wasn’t going to happen.
In her thirty-five years, Lindy had had only a handful of dates and just one proper boyfriend. That relationship had only lasted a few months; in retrospect she didn’t even know why it had begun, never mind ended. She and Philip had both more or less tolerated each other, but not much more than that.