Role Playing(39)

She looked at his hand, then rolled her eyes. Then she washed her hands, muttering something about jalape?os, before giving him a quick handshake.

He couldn’t help smiling at her. Her palm was small and soft and warm, engulfed by his. She was, in a word, cute, like a disgruntled baby duck—and the fact that she’d hate the word made her even cuter.

He would face a firing squad before saying that out loud. He got the feeling her retribution would be swift and decidedly not cute.

“Weirdo,” she teased.

“Polite,” he countered.

“Yeah, well, I gave up being polite in person years ago,” she said with a graceful shrug. “As my behavior in the guild will probably attest.” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Oh, shit. The guild.”

He felt a cold chill of prescience. “Please tell me you’re not thinking of quitting the guild,” he said quickly.

She looked guiltily off to the side, then dove into her bag, pulling out a piece of beef and popping it into his freezer.

“Because . . . okay, I’m just going to say it. I consider you a friend of mine,” he said, feeling squirmy and vulnerable, but still determined. “I don’t want to lose you, and the guild would definitely be pissed if they realized I was responsible for driving you away.”

She stirred the broth, sighing, then pouring a spoonful of fish sauce and what looked like grainy brown sugar into it. “It’s just weird, isn’t it?”

“Why? Because we’re basically . . . Wait, how old are you?”

“A lady doesn’t tell,” she said, then laughed at herself. “And I’m no fucking lady, so forty-eight.”

“We’re practically the same age, then,” he said.

“Yeah, I figured that out myself.” She scowled.

He suddenly felt a ball of ice in the pit of his stomach. “So, you thought I was twenty or something . . . and . . . you’re weirded out because I’m not?”

Was she attracted to the barely legal, or something? He felt his stomach rebel. Then his mind threw forward another thought.

Why are you wondering who she’s attracted to?

That was a weird place to go, mentally, wasn’t it? Especially for him. He leaned against the wall, stunned.

“What? NO.” She bellowed it. “I . . . I don’t know. It was more like I saw you as this kid who was nice and polite, even when he was surrounded with rowdy dickheads about his age. I came because you needed help. All this time, you were fun to talk to, and I like playing in the guild.”

“So why would you stop?” he repeated. “I don’t understand.”

She looked mulish for a long second, then she crossed her arms in front of her, the folds of her voluminous sweater shifting.

“I am not dating you.” Her words were sharp.

He blinked. “Okay. Didn’t ask, but that’s good to know . . . ?”

“If you were twenty, I could tell you that,” she said slowly, “and just sort of laugh it off. Guy that age, and me nearly fifty? It’d be like disciplining a misbehaving puppy.”

He chuckled at that image.

“Not that you’d be interested. That was part of the comfort, I guess? Then we could just be friends. But you’re . . .” She waved her hands at him, as if to say, Well, look at you. “You’re . . . you’re tall, and all rugged, and you’re my age!”

Now he felt mildly unnerved.

So . . . was she attracted to him? What she knew of him?

Ordinarily, with anyone else, this would be the moment that he felt a bite of panic and guilt. Because he rarely felt attracted to anyone, for whatever reason. He didn’t know why, and while he’d made peace with it, around other people it could be a cause of great discomfort. The last thing he wanted was to hurt this woman, who was quickly becoming one of the best friends he’d ever had.

Although . . . doing a quick gut check, he realized that he didn’t feel unattracted. He was actually . . .

Curious?

Maybe something else?

He blinked slowly, like she’d actually hit him with the skillet she’d been brandishing.

“And I don’t date,” she said, with so much vehemence, so much venom. “I don’t see people, I don’t hook up. I don’t even socialize with the possibility of romance. Never.”

“Damn.” He grinned, shaking his head. “There goes my promposal.”

She stared at him. Then, slowly, she started laughing, and he joined in.

“What if I promise not to date you, not to fall in love with you . . . maybe to not even make any sort of physical contact?”

“Well, we blew it with the handshake thing,” she said wryly. “But yeah, no physical contact sounds good. You ready for lunch? I just have to get the steak sliced, then we’ll get everything set up.”

He took a deep breath. “Sounds good.”

This was weird. In a lot of ways, it was perfect. But something felt different.

He’d need to think about it. For now, he was just having soup with his new friend . . . and seeing what happened.





CHAPTER 17


PLUCKY COMIC RELIEF


Aiden tried not to slurp the remaining broth and noodles, but it was impossible. “Oh my God,” he said, catching his breath, feeling like a pig but also very, very happy. “That was so good.”