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“Because—” she said, and stopped.
“How much have you tried?” he asked. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I never hear any gossip aboutyou.”
“I’m a judge,” she said. “A single, female, thirty-eight-year-old judge. Who’s bossy. I wouldn’t even know where to start to explain. Also, I can’t afford gossip. If I wore black lingerie with ropes of pearls on it …”
“You have to trust the guy, that’s all,” Roxanne said. “You must have once. How long did you go out with Dr. Craig? OB/GYN,” she told Martin.
“Ick,” Martin said. “All that room for comparison.”
“Three years,” Quinn said, still stiffly. “Which isn’t quite the achievement you seem to think. Let’s just say it didn’t end well.”
“Very cryptic,” Martin said, “but also familiar, sadly,pour moi.So we just need to find somebody who’s not threatened by your power and who doesn’tsayhe’s not threatened while actually secretlybeingthreatened. If I’m guessing right.”
“And who isn’t a conflict of interest,” Roxanne said. “No lawyers.”
“So,” Martin said. “Matchmaking.”
“Absolutely not,” Quinn said.
“Seriously?” Martin said. “Or is this, ‘That sounds uncomfortable, and I may not be happy right now, but I’m also not uncomfortable, so I think I’ll stay here in my airless little box’?”
Ezra said, “You sure know how to go for the jugular.”
“All right,” Quinn said, “maybe it’s that, but it’s … to tell the truth, I probably didn’t really burn to be with Craig, either. Maybe Iammeant to be alone. I don’t want drama. I don’t want upheaval. I don’t want somebody bursting through my …”
“Boundaries,” Ezra said. “Spoken like a lonely person. A bruised person. Which I’d know. So do you really want to stay that way? Or do you want to step out of that box?”
Quinn said, “Oh, good. Heading downhill again. Yay. I’m going to stretch out and go for it now.”
Terrell kept up with her, because Terrell was about six-three, and after a few flying minutes, he said, “This is what happens when you invite gay men into your running group. We know all about being vulnerable and having men take advantage of that, but we alsokeep looking. Are gay men the biggest fools in the world, or the biggest optimists? Getting involved again: the triumph of hope over experience.”
Quinn said, “Can’t talk. I’m running.” And did, stretching out and letting her legs eat up the ground, stepping deftly over rocks and roots, strong and fast and free.
They were in the parking lot, stretching out, when Ezra, Martin, and Roxanne came into view. Martin panted out, bending over from the waist and blowing out a breath, “I only … marginally kept up because I’m not done talking to Quinn. I may be sick. Ugh. Am I fit yet?”
“All right,” Quinn said, for no reason she could discern. “I’ll try. I won’tkeeptrying if it’s horrible,” she added hastily, “but I’ll try. It’s self-improvement, right? Self-improvement is important. But who’s going to be doing this setting up? You?”
“Yes,” Martin said. “Who knows everybody? I know everybody—well, Lily and I do. I’m more cynical than she is, which is better, and Ezra knows if they treat their pets well. Character test. Shall we say one date a week? Saturday nights?”
“I could be busy,” Quinn said.
“Doing what?” Martin asked.
“Uh … having dinner with my parents?”
Martin made a “wrong answer” noise, like“blatt,”and said, “Excuse rejected. Next?”
“Hey,” she said, “I like my parents.Youlike my parents.”
“Because their store is like Aladdin’s cave for Montanans,” Martin said, “and your mom’s never met a stranger. That’ll make it easier when you bring the lucky guy home to meet them. Have dinner with them on Sunday instead. So: Saturday nights. Starting … two days from now.”
“If you can talk some guy into going out with me that fast. Also, I don’t have the wardrobe,” Quinn tried next. “Although everything I have is from Ministry of Supply, which is pretty high quality, and they say it’s athleisure, so maybe …”
“No,” Martin said. “Your capsule wardrobe of comfortable, interchangeable, work-ready gray, navy, and oatmeal is not going to do it. It’s one outfit, though. I’ll come over Saturday morning and go through your closet. Surely we can find one first-date outfit.”
“That’s not very optimistic,” she said. “You’re assuming I won’t have any second dates. Also, I have my swim clinic on Saturday mornings at ten-thirty.”
“Right,” Martin said. “Saturday at one. Want to find some other objection, or can I get in the car so I can whine at Ezra the way I want to? Six dates,” he went on when she started to talk some more. “Six weeks. Give me six weeks, and if nothing’s worked, I won’t bug you anymore. But you have to promise to try.”
