Isha snorted, and bestowed on me the same flat stare he had during the party when I’d told the kids he was too much of a pussy to hold Miranda. “I think it was more the fact that she’s totally snake phobic, but whatever.”
“If she’s phobic, she should drop by some time. It’s only ignorance that makes people scared of snakes.”
“You’re not irrationally afraid of anything?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed.”
Isha thrust his hands into his pockets. “That’s a nice theory, but irrational or not, fear is real.”
I knew that. I constantly reminded myself of it when genuinely phobic people came to the shop to conquer their worst nightmares, but I had to believe that I could help them, for the sake of my animals, if nothing else. “I used to have a king cobra, years ago, when I worked at a venomous reptile exhibit. A lady who’d been petrified of snakes her whole life came in and learned to safely handle him. She breeds rosy boas now. I get what you’re saying, but nothing is impossible.”
“Uh-huh.” Isha straightened and started to turn away.
My hand shot out to stop him, my fingers closing around his forearm before I was truly aware of what I’d done. “Um…wait?”
Isha’s gaze flickered between me and my vice-like grip on his arm. “Why?”
I had no idea. All I knew was that I wasn’t quite ready for him to walk away. “It’s been a long day,” I said. “Come for a drink?”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
“I don’t even drink.”
“Neither do I.”
A laugh burst out of Isha. The sound was so unfamiliar that I laughed too, and made an executive decision. “Fuck it. Come to my place. It’s right there, remember?”
“You want me to come to your house?”
“You’ve come plenty of other places, mate.”
I saw the moment the dirty joke hit Isha’s brain. He blinked, and shook his head slightly, as if to clear it enough to tell if he’d imagined it or not.
He tilted his head sideways. “I thought we were waiting until tomorrow to talk about that?”
“We are. Doesn’t mean we can’t be real. Come on, let’s go.”
Without waiting for an answer, I towed him across the street to my front door. He waited silently as I unlocked it, and didn’t protest when I yanked him over the threshold.
I shut the door, and tension seeped from my shoulders as I kicked my boots off. I wasn’t used to having people I barely knew in my space, but knowing we could talk freely relaxed me. Isha wasn’t cheating on his wife, but I was still fairly sure he was closeted. Perhaps in the safety of my kitchen, he’d give me some clue to what he was thinking.
Even if I didn’t know why it was suddenly so important to me.
Isha leaned back on my door, his dark eyes boring into the side of my head. “Why are you being weird?”
“Excuse me?”
“Come on, mate.” Isha knocked his head on the glass panel of the door. “You pretty much tell me to fuck off every time we speak and now you’re dragging me into your house?”
“I don’t tell you to fuck off every time we speak, and I didn’t drag you in here.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It’s a stupid question.” I turned on my heel and continued to the kitchen. After a moment, I heard him follow.
I picked up the kettle and took it to the sink. “Assuming you were serious when you said you didn’t drink, I’ve got green tea, water, or Vimto.”
