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“Sorry to burst your bubble, Kimmy. But I haven’t exactly had men pounding down my door.”
Kimberly had pursed her lips and set her hands on her hips in a way that said she was serious. “That’s because you give off a vibe that scares most of them away.”
“Oh? And what vibe would that be?”
“You know. The ‘come near me and I’ll break your balls’ vibe.” The woman clucked. Actually clucked. “Men don’t like women who challenge their masculinity.”
“Well, I don’t want a man who can’t handle a woman with balls.”
Kimberly had just shaken her head and grabbed her purse from beneath the counter. “If you don’t change your tune, you’re going to end up alone.”
That had annoyed the hell out of Rebecca. “Maybe I want to be alone. Not every single woman needs a man.”
“I get that. And you obviously don’t need a man. But there are some things you need a man for.”
“Not really. A pack of batteries and my vibrator do just fine.”
“Really?” Kimberly frowned. “I’m being serious, Becca.”
“So am I.”
But Kimberly wasn’t giving up. “You’re doing great on your own. You really are. I don’t think I would have the strength to own my own home and raise my son alone. But I don’t think that’s the case here. I think you’re afraid.”
Okay. This woman was a coworker. A coworker. Where the hell did she get off?
“Kim, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but honestly, my personal life is none of your business.”
Kimberly just smiled and headed for the door. “I know. But I’m not sorry for pointing out the obvious.” She paused, her hand on the doorknob. “Life’s too short to be afraid, Rebecca. And wearing that crown of ‘don’t come near me’ must be exhausting.”
That last line had been a zinger, and it stuck with Rebecca all the way home. By the time she walked into her kitchen, she was in a crap mood, and not even the smells emanating from her Crock-Pot could put her in a better frame of mind. She grabbed a bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge, poured a generous glass, and flopped onto the sofa. Liam wasn’t home from hockey practice yet, but her appetite wasn’t exactly healthy anyway.
Wine before food was how she was gonna roll tonight.
She was onto her second glass when the door opened and Liam walked in, followed by her brother. Her son tossed his backpack onto the floor, but one look from Rebecca and he sheepishly picked it up.
“Hockey bag?” she asked.
“In the garage, and my equipment is airing out.”
“Wash your hands,” she said, eyes on his retreating back.
“Mom,” Liam moaned before disappearing up the stairs.
“Smells good,” Mackenzie said, dropping a kiss to his sister’s cheek.
“Cabbage roll soup.”
Mackenzie flashed a smile. “I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. Liam did most of it this morning before I even dragged my ass out of bed.”
Mac’s eyebrow shot up. “The kid’s a chef?”
“Perfect combination. I guess I did something right.” She sank farther into the sofa. “You want some wine?”
“Nah. Can’t stay long. Date night.”
She smiled up at her brother. A knot formed in her throat, and she had to look away, because, dammit, there were tears forming in the corners of her eyes. What the hell was wrong with her?
