Free Right Before His Eyes by Wendy Etherington

anyway.
    He and Sheila were planning to have dinner together every night. He even snuck in Chinese takeout on Monday, which they ate in the back room and gloatingly assured everybody who popped in to investigate the unusual smells that they were imagining the scent of soy sauce and ginger.
    While he also convinced her to interview some of the people Marley recommended she hire, in the end, she promoted Louise to part-time assistant manager. She was still watching Lily until Mellie could make new arrangements.
    â€œThank you,” Sheila said suddenly to him as they shared pie and coffee in the back room on Thursday night. “Promoting Louise has been the best decision I’ve made in a long time.”
    â€œShe’s only been on the job a day.”
    â€œBut she’s so happy. I swear the woman is floating through her shifts.”
    â€œGive her a week running your insane schedule, and she’ll be begging for mercy.”
    â€œThere’s nothing insane about working hard. You do it.”
    â€œYeah, but I’m stronger.”
    â€œBecause you’re a man?” she asked after a significant pause.
    Oops. He’d gone down the wrong road. This was a common problem with Sheila. She was a challenging woman, and any attempt to help her—she would say wrestle control from her—was usually met with a fierce stare from those beautiful brown eyes.
    â€œNo, not really,” he said, scrambling to cover his blunder. “Gender doesn’t really have a place in working hard, does it?”
    â€œI don’t think so. But if you want to make comparisons, you could equate stronger to bigger.”
    â€œYeah, that’s—” He stopped, patting his stomach, which he kept trim through disciplined diet and rigorous exercise. The months wooing Sheila had packed on a couple of pounds. “And getting bigger every day thanks to this pie you keep pushing on me.”
    â€œAny time you want a grilled chicken salad, you just ask.”
    â€œHow did we go from discussing your diner to my waistline?”
    â€œYou did that all by yourself.”
    He supposed he had. “My point about Louise was that she’s nearly fifty and—”
    â€œYou’re over forty.”
    He leaned toward her, flicking his finger over the impish dimple in her chin. “You have a problem with my stamina?”
    Grinning, she pulled his pie plate in front of her. “No, but I don’t have a problem with my waistline.”
    â€œLouise is nearly fifty, while you are younger and have a supportive boyfriend to pick you up off the floor at the end of the night.”
    Her eyes widened. “Boyfriend?”
    â€œYes.” Realizing he’d dropped that in and hoping Sheila wouldn’t give him a hard time about it, he rose and crossed to the cooler he’d brought with him. “One who brings you champagne and chocolate, by the way.”
    Reflecting on the rewards of spoiling Sheila, he set a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries on the table. He wondered if there would ever come a time when she’d stop being surprised by indulgent gestures.
    Maybe not. But if she did, he’d certainly miss the pleasure of her shock, the slowly dawning knowledge that somebody cared about her.
    He popped the champagne cork—quietly so the entire diner wouldn’t come running for a taste—then poured out two servings into crystal flutes he’d also brought. “See the rewards of dating me?”
    She took the glass, then tossed back the entire contents.
    He poured more and sincerely hoped Louise was ready to jump in with assistant-manager duties, since her boss was likely to be too dizzy to go back to work anytime soon.
    â€œProblem?” he asked, even though he was well aware of the problem.
    Her brown eyes found his and locked in. “Boyfriend?”
    â€œNot a fan of the word? How about significant other? Exclusive date guy? Lover?”
    Her gaze roved