“Can you help me find some more books? I read all the ones from last time.”

“Wow. You’re a fast reader.”

“You chose great books for me.”

“What do you want to do with me?” Oh no. Oh no. “I mean, what book type, genres, do you want to be with?” What book did he want to be with? Must I speak in a carnal fashion? “Read. What books do you want to read?” I am a lovesick fool.

He smiled, so gentle in that masculine face, scars here and there, and I smiled back and tried not to groan in a sexual way.

First we found him three books. Then I asked him if he wanted to have coffee and a slice of six-layer mocha fudge chocolate cake with me. I was surprised at myself for that invitation. He seemed surprised, too, but pleased, and we had cake out on the deck and watched the boats sitting in the sun. We talked more, endlessly, easily, from one subject to the next, from animals to movies to the island to fun things we liked to do, until he said, “I have to go. I’ve got two horses and a sheep coming in to see me.”

“You can’t be late for them. The horses will think you’re rude and the sheep will think you’re ill-mannered.”

“I try not to be either.”

He smiled and I smiled back, and I could feel that pull of him. I could feel the love I had for him. I could feel how irresistible he was.

It stabbed me in the heart, that it did.

I stared out the window from my upstairs office and watched Marco cross the street like the sappy love-fool that I am.

My relationships with men in the past have all been shallow. Initially, in college, I went for the “bad boys,” but not for the usual reason: Bad boys are intriguing and sexy and rebellious.

I assumed they would be fine if I broke up with them. They’d simply move on to another young woman. I also thought they would give me emotional space. They would not demand much from me. They wouldn’t want to get serious because they were “bad boys.” One was in a rock band that today churns out hit after hit. We’re still friends.

One was a motorcycle rider who wrote a book about his adventures that sold widely, then he became a college English lit professor with six kids. When I knew him he had long hair, a bandana, a bike, and no money. With six kids he probably still has no money.