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The guy ahead of them turned his head and looked a bit interested. "Straight ahead, buddy," Wolfe warned. The guy flushed and swiveled back.
Gen laughed. "You're so uptight. I'll ask Kennedy."
"Why do you make me have these conversations? Any guy who expects to have sex with you because he bought dinner is scum. Walk on."
"What if I want to have sex with him?"
The guy in front choked on a sip of water. Wolfe glowered. "If a woman wants to have sex, most men will take you up on the offer. But most women do not sleep around on the first date. I think. It's about the third or fourth when they make their decision. And it's best to mix up the first few dates to test out all social arenas. Lunch, dinner, a movie, a cocktail, et cetera. You need to see the other person in different backgrounds to make sure you're compatible."
"Got it." The stranger nodded as if he agreed with Wolfe. Gen smothered a laugh. "Is that what you do?"
"Sometimes."
His obvious discomfort told the truth. "You just sleep with them, don't you?"
He pushed her gently forward as if ending their conversation. "Order your ice cream, Gen."
She spent a long time considering all options and ordered her usual--mint chocolate chip. It used to drive David batty when she took so much time and always picked the same thing, but Wolfe didn't seem to care. Wolfe chose cake batter, which should be illegal for anyone over the age of twelve, but still looked ridiculously good. When they walked out, the sun was caught in mid-descent. The sky shimmered with gorgeous pinks, and the faint strains of music drifted in the air.
"It's music in the park!" she screeched. "Let's go."
He seemed more interested in his cone. "I'm not into polka."
Gen grabbed his hand and led him past the gated dog park and onto the main lawn where community events were held. The Hudson River was the perfect backdrop for the makeshift stage to the right of the white gazebo. Tables lined the area from local shops selling their products. Families squeezed onto blankets, sipping soda and snacking. "You're such a snob. Local bands play once a week but I haven't had any time to indulge. Most of them are pretty good, too. Oh, there's the Barking Dog Bakery table. Let's go buy Robert a treat."
Fingers entwined, they melted into the crowd. She stopped to chat with various neighbors, who all stared curiously at Wolfe, studying his tats and piercings with evident curiosity. No one mentioned her broken engagement or runaway-bride scenario. Gen didn't know if it was better or worse. Lately, every person who approached her acted as if she was breakable, afraid to raise their voices or mention anything in the way of romance.
She bought a few gluten-free peanut butter biscuits for Robert, then tried on a few handmade beaded bracelets with power words on them such as hope and love and heal. The band was called Safe Word, reminding her of some BDSM novel, but they looked pretty cool and the lead singer had pink streaks in her hair.
"Genevieve MacKenzie."
She turned at the sound of her name, looked way down, and froze. Oh no. Not tonight when she was finally having fun.
The elderly woman before her was small, petite, and meaner than Cruella De Vil. She held a walker in her iron grip, and wore a faded red paisley housedress with white orthopedic shoes. Her stockings bagged around her calves. She squinted her eyes behind thick lenses, and her face was a map of wrinkles.
Gen knew those wrinkles weren't from laughter. She doubted Mrs. Blackfire ever cracked a grin. Ever. She was the scourge of Verily, known to be bad tempered in every shop she patronized. She hated animals, and had once called the local shelter to pick up one of Arilyn's dogs, claiming the beagle had peed in her rose bed. Her acid words, inability to experience humor, and general misery were well-known. Everyone avoided her.
"Hi, Mrs. Blackfire." Gen tried not to tremble. "How are you?"
The woman curled her upper lip. "Terrible. Your house is ruining my ability to sell. It needs a paint job, and your front step has bricks missing."
Hope bloomed. "Are you moving?"
Steely eyes that matched her gray hair glared. "No. But that doesn't matter. Between that awful dog of Kate's ruining my rosebushes and your tree ready to destroy my house, I'll never sell at full value when I do. Who's this?"
Gen swallowed. "This is my friend Wolfe."
"Nice to meet you," he said politely, wiping his sticky hands on the napkin.
"That's a ridiculous name. You're a human being, not an animal. Whatever happened to James or William? Something normal. Not good enough for you?"
Gen held her breath, but Wolfe actually had a twinkle of laughter in his eyes. "At least my name isn't Jackass."
Mrs. Blackfire leaned forward with pure suspicion. "You making fun of me, boy?"
"No, ma'am."
"Hope not." She studied his various piercings and tattoo. "Are you in a gang? You look like a Jet. We don't tolerate shenanigans in Verily."
"I don't plan to bring any, ma'am. If there's anything you need help with around your property, let me know. I'll be glad to help."
"I take care of my own business. Are you living with her at the cottage now?"
"For a little while."
Mrs. Blackfire snorted. "This is a quiet neighborhood. I don't want to hear disgusting sex noises keeping me up at night."
Holy crap. She almost threw up in her mouth. "Umm, the band is starting, we should go."
Her neighbor turned her attention back to Gen. "While you were gone, I had a tree service analyze that pine and they agreed it was rotten. I'll be sending you the report."
She tamped down on her impatience. "The tree is healthy, and on my property. I'm sorry, but I won't be cutting it down."
Mrs. Blackfire pointed one bony finger toward her and shook with mad glee. "You've brought scandal on our town, you know. Reporters crawling around, asking a bunch of questions. You running out on that nice doctor. Heard you quit the hospital, too, and are working at that ridiculous matchmaking agency. In my day, we did what needed to be done. Lived with our choices. You're weak, girl. You quit on everything that mattered."
The words sliced and shredded tender flesh. Deep down, wasn't that what she was afraid of? She'd tried so hard to do everything right, but instead made a mess of things. She destroyed everything she touched and turned her back on her careful choices. "Maybe you're right," she whispered.
"I disagree."
The woman's head whipped around at Wolfe's voice. "What did you say?"
Wolfe stepped between them. "I said I disagree. People who don't make a change in their life, who are too afraid of the unknown, are cowards. They watch life pass them by, getting meaner by the day because everyone seems to be happier than they are. You think it's easy to walk away on your wedding day when you know you're making a huge mistake? How about going to medical school for years and having the balls to take a break in order to be sure it's what you want?"
Mrs. Blackfire's mouth gaped.
Wolfe leaned in real close.
"I bet you would've stayed and been miserable. Does that make you strong? Smart? Or just unhappy?"
The elderly woman made a low squeak of rage. Her cheeks were mottled a dull red. "How dare you? You're a guttersnipe. I'll be watching every move you make, young man."
Wolfe grinned and stepped back. "I'll be
looking forward to it. Have a pleasant evening, Mrs. Blackfire."
He turned and led Gen across the lawn. Shadows fell, and the lead singer stepped up to the microphone to introduce their first song. Wolfe kept walking until he was at the back of the field near the fence, away from the crowd. Leaning against a gnarled pine tree, he crossed his ankles and snagged her fingers within his. She propped her back against the rough bark next to him, enjoying the warm strength of his grip.
"You didn't have to say those things," she finally said. Man, he smelled good. Like freshly washed laundry and sunshine. "She's just a cranky, mean old lady."
"I kinda liked her."
"What? No one likes her! She's evil. Wicked-witch evil. She'd probably steal Toto and take him to be destroyed. Probably right about me though."
"She's been hurt badly and never recovered."
"How do you know?"
He shrugged. "I can tell. But she's wrong about you. And I meant every word I said." He turned his head and snagged her gaze. "Every. Damn. Word. You are the bravest woman I know. It's the people who think they know the answers you need to be wary of."
His eyes were so wickedly blue and deep she could lose herself. "You mean like I used to be?" Gen joked. "I used to be so sure of myself."
"So did I."
Something fierce and primal shook through her. Electricity pulsed between them, and suddenly Gen wanted his mouth over hers, all lips and tongue and teeth, until he possessed and claimed every part of her. She ached to open her thighs and take him deep. Dig her nails into his skin. Mark him. Surrender. Fuck. What was happening to her? Her heart hammered. "Wolfe."
His name broke from her lips just as the drummer onstage went into a loud solo. People cheered him on and whistled, and the spell was broken. The tension eased, and she let out a shaky breath. Their relationship was changing, and she didn't know what to do. A strange sexual chemistry buzzed and grew stronger. Maybe sharing intimate space was messing up her head. After all, seeing someone every day for meals, for TV, and in their sleepwear forced a certain closeness. Add a life crisis and general sexual frustration and--boom!--a cocktail of a mess.
Gen swore she'd keep it together. No way was she going to ruin her friendship because her body was weak.
No. Way.
Her upcoming date couldn't come fast enough.
