He sat back up in time to see Themmie blink a few times. “Wow,” she said. “That was a lot. Uh, let’s back up. For starters, what’s wrong with knitting?”
“People think it’s boring,” he said forlornly. “I should have a manly hobby like . . . like woodworking or sword fighting or hunting elk with my bare hands.” The best he’d managed in wolf form was a particularly ornery rabbit, and he’d felt guilty afterward.
“Hobbies don’t have genders,” Themmie said. “And you don’t have to be some stereotypical macho woodsman to be attractive. Also, you’re not going to die in a ditch, knitting isn’t boring, and sweater vests . . . uh, I’m sure they have many merits.”
“Many,” he said fervently. “Argyle is wonderful.” Such a pleasing pattern.
“I’m sure it is,” she said soothingly. “So you’re lonely and want to date, but you’re also anxious and not sure someone will like you just the way you are?”
“That’s precisely it.” How quickly she cut to the emotional core of the matter, like Hylo had. “Have you thought about being a bartender?”
Themmie cocked her head, looking confused. “Uh, not really.”
“You’d be great at it,” he said vehemently. “Not the drink bits—or maybe the drink bits, I don’t know—but all the listening and shit. Stuff,” he clarified. “Shouldn’t swear in front of a lady.” His mother had drilled that into him growing up, but it was hard to remember sometimes, like when he was drunk or hanging out with his creatively vulgar cousins and friends.
Themmie laughed. “I fucking encourage swearing. And thanks, but let’s go back to you. I think you have many lovely qualities and just need to find the right person who will appreciate them.”
That was precisely the problem. “Don’t know how.”
“Well, you could go to some singles’ mixers around town—”
He shook his head, instantly regretting it when his brain sloshed around in his skull. “People. Bad.”
“You interact with people all the time at the Emporium.”
“That’s different,” he said. “I know what to say and do there.” There were specific rules about interaction in a place of business, and he knew the entire shop top to bottom, down to the well-being of individual leaves. In his sphere, he was the expert and authority. If challenged, he could be brave for the sake of his employees and his business, and if he ever felt uncomfortable, his reputation for being serious and levelheaded meant he could hide his inner turmoil with stoic silence.
At a random public event, much less one designed to spark romance, he’d be a disaster.
“Dating apps, then,” Themmie said, pulling her phone from a pocket in her yellow dress. “You don’t have to meet anyone in person until you’ve chatted online.”
“Don’t know what to write.” Also, having never downloaded more than a few basic apps on his smartphone, he had a feeling he was too out of touch for that. He even kept handwritten ledgers at the office, preferring to practice his calligraphy rather than attempting Excel. Spreadsheets were undoubtedly helpful but lacked a certain artistry, and whenever he heard the words pivot table or conditional formatting, he wanted to flee.
“Just give some details about who you are and what you’re looking for. Like I’m a werewolf, six foot four or whatever, I like knitting and own my own business. In search of someone who enjoys gardening, blah-blah-blah. Then upload a nice picture of you. I’ll even take it for you!” She raised her phone and snapped a picture of him, then winced as she eyed the screen. “Okay, maybe when you aren’t quite so drunk.”
“Cake!” someone screeched from across the dance floor. “Time for cake!”
The music cut off and people started moving toward where an enormous four-tiered cake—half pumpkin spice for Oz and half chocolate for Mariel—was being wheeled out.
“Let’s put a pin in this,” Themmie said, standing up. “But promise you’ll at least try to set up an online dating profile.” She reached a hand down to help him up.
“I promise,” Ben said, staggering to his feet. “Thanks, Themmie.”
He watched from the back of the crowd as Mariel and Oz fed each other slices of cake, taking frequent breaks to kiss each other. They were so in love, and Ben teared up again with a mix of sincere joy and longing. He clapped and hollered as loudly as everyone else and accepted a slice of cake from Mariel with a grin.