Being in John’s bed had been unpleasant, but I’d thought it was worth it to be safe from the man who wanted to own me. It was the kind of compromise women made all over the world: sex and nurturing and nursing for safety. Prostitution of a different kind.
“I don’t know if we would suit,” he said, “but I’d like to get to know you better. I’d like to take you to dinner.”
I had been staring into the distance, and whipped my eyes to him.
Dinner.
His dark hair had fallen across his forehead in a long curl. Too long by church standards. And Ben Aden wanted to take me to dinner. Like Occam did. Occam who had kissed me. Playing the field, JoJo had called it once when I was in the room with her and T. Laine as they talked about men.Dating. “Oh. Umm. Oh.” I looked around the house as if I had never been there. Dusty. Cat prints. Lumpy brownish couch. Tattered chairs. I hadn’t noticed they were in such bad shape. John’s and Leah’s things. So little that was mine. I didn’t know what to say to Ben.
Tears filled my eyes. Maybe fear. Maybe confusion. Maybe lots of things. I blinked hard to push them away. “Um.” My cell dinged again. Then twice more with reminders for the first two. I held up the cell as if to show him where the dings were coming from, or like a lifeline, and thumbed it on.
The first text was from Mama, telling me she was sending someone over with fresh eggs. Not even thinking that I mightbe at work or sleeping off a night of work. No. Expecting me to be at home like a good churchwoman, because the idea of a woman with a regular job was beyond her world reference. Not mentioning Ben. Setting me up for matchmaking.
The second text was from HQ, updating me as to time and location for the op.
The last text was from Occam. It said,Driving up your mountain. We need to talk.
“Oh. Dear Lordy Moses,” I whispered.
“What?” Ben asked, concern lacing his voice.
A car pulled up outside. Cello leaped to the floor and raced to the front door, as if knowing that a big-cat had come calling.Mworing loudly.
“This is about to be uncomfortable,” I said, standing. “A coworker is here to have a chat.” All truth. Not lying at all. “I don’t know about dinner.”
“Would you like to meet for coffee in the morning? Like normal people do? Somewhere in town?” Ben asked, bemused by my obvious and growing panic. A car door closed. The other cats raced to join Cello.
Were the cats moon-called yet? What would Occam do if—when—he met Ben? Occam who wanted to date me, and whose cat might perceive Ben as competition. My breathing was too fast. My hands were tingling. Soulwood seemed to roll over in the winter deeps and reach for me.Oh no. I’d grow leaves.A peculiar laugh stuttered out of me.
“Nell? Is everything all right? Can I help?”
I made that sound that might be considered laughter, the kind heard in a scary movie about ghosts in an old insane asylum. I sped to the door and grabbed up the cats and raced to the back door, where I shoved them onto the back porch, getting scratched in the process. Set the dampers to burn slow. Slung my gobags over my shoulder and my weapon harness over an arm.
Ben was watching me in befuddlement, and maybe some amusement. I heard Occam’s steady footsteps on the stairs. All three cats started caterwauling at the door, wanting back in.
Ben looked back and forth between the front door and the loud cats and me. “Nell?”
“I’m okay, Ben. I gotta go to work.” I sounded anxious.
“Nell?” He was getting worried. I’d heard thatprotect the little womantone before. Usually just before a doting father pulled out a shotgun.
“Where?” I demanded. “Where can we meet for coffee or breakfast tomorrow? When I get off work.” Occam knocked on the door, his lithe frame a darker shadow against the dim daylight of the front window.
Ben looked at the front door and at me standing with all my gear. I could tell he was itching to take the heavy load of gobags off my fragile shoulders. “Pete’s Coffee Shop, downtown on Union?” he asked.
“I’ll be there at seven.”
“You sure?” He meant was I sure about my new visitor not being here to ravish me.
“I’m sure.” I opened the door and tossed my two gobags at Occam. He barely caught them, but when he did, they seemed to weigh nothing. “I’ll be right there,” I said. And I shut the door in his face. Spun so my back was to the door. Ben was so close I nearly touched him when I turned. I pressed my spine to the door.
Ben’s blue eyes were twinkling, but his face looked serious. He lifted a hand to the wig and touched the wobbly messy bun, as if to see if the colorful hair was real. “I’ll see you in the morning, Nell.” He took my shoulders in his hands and gently eased me out of the way. Opened the door, stepped out, and closed the door behind him. Closing me out of the conversation.
Oh. I should have gone out there. Should have stood my ground. Acted tough. I placed my ear against the door like a child listening in on a forbidden adult discussion.
“I’m Ben Aden.”
Occam said nothing for a half dozen of my racing heartbeats. “Occam.” There was a low half growl in his voice.
