Pesh’s dark eyes pooled with empathy as he once again took her hand in his. “It isn’t the same pain, but I do know how you feel. I experience it every time I see a husband and wife sharing a loving moment. It drives home what I do not have…what I have lost.”
Megan wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Emma told me about your wife. I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you,” he murmured.
Nibbling her bottom lip, Megan then hesitantly asked, “What was she like?”
By his raised eyebrows, Pesh seemed surprised by her question. Megan hoped she hadn’t stepped over a boundary in asking. He leaned back in his chair and drew in an agonized breath. “She was my world—the sun, the moon, and the stars.” He met her intense gaze, checking to see if she really wanted him to continue. After she gave a brief nod, he began to talk. He told her how they had met and all the little attributes that Jade possessed that made her special. As Megan listened to him speak with such reverence and love about his late wife, she couldn’t help feeling just a little bit jealous. She’d never had a man possess such intense feelings for her. She couldn’t imagine ever being loved so completely by a man that not even death could lessen his feelings.
“What you had with Jade, what you still feel for her, it’s really beautiful,” she murmured when he finished.
Pesh jerked a hand through his thick hair. “It’s interesting to hear you say that. I think most women are turned off by what they perceive is a man who can’t let go of his dead wife.”
Megan shook her head. “I don’t think so. Who wouldn’t be turned on by a man who feels so deeply that he didn’t stop loving his wife just because she died?”
Pesh’s eyes widened at her statement, and he sucked in a harsh breath. “Most women don’t want to share your heart,” he challenged softly.
“Then they’re obviously insecure. All of us have the ability to love people in infinite capacities. I love my son with all my heart and soul, but there will still be room for a man…someday.”
He stared at her for a moment, unblinking and unmoving. “I have to say that I find your reasoning absolutely fascinating.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
The intensity of his gaze caused her to laugh nervously. “I don’t think a man has ever called me fascinating.”
“That’s a pity.”
Before she could try changing the subject, Aidan came by their table with Noah in his arms. “After I put him down, I’m going to make some drinks. Emma wants one of her margaritas. You game?” he asked Megan.
She nodded. A drink would certainly help cool her off after the conversation she’d been having with Pesh. “Sure. I don’t think I’ve had one in forever.”
“Neither has she. I may be peeling her off the ceiling tonight,” he teased.
Megan laughed. “You have seriously got to stop with the innuendo. You are my uncle, and it is mortifying and disgusting to have to think of you in that capacity.”
“I am so terribly sorry for scaring your sensitive mind.” Grinning, Aidan turned to Pesh. “Beer okay with you, or would you like something fruity, too?”
“I’m fine with a beer,” Pesh replied.
Aidan bobbed his head. “Be right back.”
After Aidan headed in the house, Pesh caught her staring at him. “What?” he asked.
“Just surprised you wanted a beer, that’s all.”
“And why is that?”
She shrugged. “You just seemed a little too refined for beer.”
He tilted his head at her. “What other preconceived notions do you have about me?”
“None really,” she lied. In her mind, she couldn’t help thinking how she wanted to make him be dirty just for her. She wondered what other surprises he might have up his sleeve.
“For some reason, I don’t believe that.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Let me guess. You think that I’m a ‘refined’ man who drinks wine, would never think of cussing or have inappropriate thoughts, organizes his underwear drawer, and who considers doing the crossword puzzle a fun Friday night?”
Megan couldn’t help snorting at his summation. It was a good distraction not to focus on how he had mentioned inappropriate thoughts and his underwear drawer. At the moment, she was having inappropriate thoughts about his underwear…or hopefully lack thereof. Of course, she couldn’t help judging him as not being the commando type. “No, that’s not what I think of you.”
“I would hope not. I know that since I’m a little older than you—”
“Just a little?”
The corners of his lips turned up. “Obviously you think I’m an old man.”
“No, I don’t,” she blurted.
“How old do you think I am? Just shy of adult diapers and a walker?”
She scowled at him. “I was not insinuating that at all. I think you’re probably close to Ankle’s age.”
Pesh’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Ankle?”
She laughed before explaining where the nickname came from.
“I see. So just how old is Ankle again?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Hmm,” Pesh murmured.
“Are you younger than that?”
“Older actually. I’m thirty-seven.”
Damn, he was a lot older than her. Twelve years to be exact. “Did I shock you?” he asked, with a teasing lilt in his voice.