That’s fine, I decide.It’s perfectly fine to like someone.
The problems pile on when heavier feelings come into play.
“I won’t fall in love with him,” I say this to Bruce, as if my dog will hold me accountable.
He raises his giant head from his plush bed for a moment before settling down again with a sigh.
Huge help.
Thinking about Warner isn’t productive.Time to get back to work.
The only task I can come up with that will keep me busy while avoiding deeper, potentially dark emotions involves cleaning out Grandma Minnie’s pantry.
A tower of preserves awaits me.
The glass jars are cool in my hands as I begin to pull them out.
I focus on that feeling, using the chill to drive away the memories of warm, soft skin under my palms.There’s even the temptation to press their cold surface to my lips in an attempt to make me forget the heat of his kiss.
Only I’m not sure I’m strong enough to give that memory up.
20
WARNER
“Are you preparing for the apocalypse?”
Zoey doesn’t give me the I-have-my-own-bunker-in-the-basement vibe, but I’m looking at a lot of jars of food on her kitchen table.I drove over here after showering off the grime from my workday, wondering what Zoey had gotten into since I’d left her the night before.
Apparently, it’s got something to do with jars.
“Not me.I wouldn’t put it past Grandma Minnie though.She didn’t really trust people.That could easily include the human population as a whole.”Zoey clutches a stack of sticky notes with a pen poised above them as she leans in close to examine one of the jars.She writes something, sticks it to the top, and moves on to the next.
I step in closer to read the blue Post-it.
Fruit?
“What’s with the question mark?”
Zoey picks up a jar, staring at the contents with a frown.“Minnie didn’t label any of these.I guess she knew just by looking.I’m trying to figure out what each one is.”
“Why don’t you just open them?”
She wrinkles her nose, still glaring at the container in her hand.“People jar meat sometimes, don’t they?If I’m going to open a jar of raw meat, I need to brace myself.”
“Because you’re worried it’ll have spoiled?”
“Oh gosh.”Her eyes flick to my face, wide in horror.“I didn’t even consider that.I will vomit if that happens.Seriously.I will spew.”Zoey sighs, her shoulders drooping as she sets down her jar and sticks it with a note that simply has one big question mark.“Of course, I’ll probably puke even if it hasn’t spoiled.”
“You hate raw meat that much?”
“I’m a vegetarian, so yeah.”She reaches for the next mason jar.
“A vegetarian?”The wolf in me lets out a silent, disbelieving huff.“How can you be a vegetarian?”
“Well”—Zoey talks as she holds another jar up to the lamp—“I wake up in the morning, and I don’t eat meat.Then, I go through the day, and I don’t eat meat.And I get ready for bed, and I don’t eat meat.Then, I find another day has gone by, and I’m still a vegetarian.”
“Smart-ass,” I mutter, even as I grin.
