Page 47 of Cain

“I haven’t had a taco or burrito in… years,” Georgie said, letting out a little groan as we walked into the restaurant to find the air full of spices.

“I figured that might be the case.”

I stood slightly behind her as she told the man behind the counter her order so he didn’t see me when I mouthed “both” when she hemmed and hawed between a burrito and tacos. Nor did she see me when she settled on tacos and only ordered two, so I held up four fingers.

Then I went ahead and ordered more than her so she didn’t feel weird about it when the trays came, drinks, and chips and salsa, before handing the guy my card.

“What do you think, too cold to sit outside?”

“Outside sounds perfect. It won’t be long before it’s not even an option anymore.”

It was probably not the best option without a jacket for her, but I wasn’t going to argue. If she wanted to move closer to share some warmth, I was all for that.

Even just the thought of that—and the memories of her tucked close behind me on the bike or pressed against me in the woods—had desire swirling through my body too fast and strong to tamp down completely.

She glanced over at me when we sat, giving me a sheepish smile. “I really suck at small talk,” she admitted.

“So, we don’t talk small. Tell me a big goal you have for your life. Big enough that it scares you a little,” I added.

“Oh. The scary dream? That would be opening my own pottery studio. I think it’s really sad how it has kind of fallen away in the past few years. I’d love to teach classes for kids and adults alike. Maybe sell kiln time to independent potters. That was always how I got my projects fired. I could never afford my own kiln. Or have anywhere to put it.”

“Have you managed to do anything with clay since you moved out on your own?”

“No, actually. I keep meaning to, but then talk myself out of buying any supplies. I need to focus on my lawyer fees right now. I should probably get some air-dry clay or something. Just to fiddle. It’s been so long that I’m worried I’ve lost all skill at it.”

“I doubt that. And, hey, if you wanna make me some magnets or ornaments, I’d take them.”

She smiled big then, revealing that one slightly pointed tooth that I liked just as much as her somewhat prominent ears.

“I know. I should probably get it fixed,” she said, seeming to notice where my gaze was focused.

“Don’t you dare. It gives your smile a lot of character.”

“Perry used to call me Muttley to try to get me to change it.”

“Muttley?” I released. “That’s a really fucking obscure reference to use just to try to put you down.”

It was so obscure that the bastard probably had to go online and research characters that had a prominent, somewhat pointed, tooth. Because who referenced some long-forgotten show from the sixties off the cuff like that?

Doing all that was just a whole new level of cruel.

“Yeah, he was always—oh, thank you!” she said when the server came out with the trays. “Wait, I didn’t order—”

“I did,” I said, brushing it off. “Thanks, man.” Then, wanting to turn the focus away from her ex, since just a casual mention of him wiped all the joy from her face, I tried again. “So, this dream studio. What does it look like? Is it all cluttered and mismatched like the places in the nineties, or do you want it more streamlined and modern?”

“God, I’m so sick of streamlined and modern. I want all the clutter and options and paint-splattered tables and floors. I want it to feel like the kind of place that transports you when you walk in. A place you want to stay lost in for hours.”

I barely knew this woman.

But I never wanted so badly to rent a storefront and build out someone’s dream more than I did right then.

“What about you? What is your big dream?”

“I don’t really have career ambitions anymore. My dream is just to find the right woman, see if she’d be willing to marry me. Then buy a fixer-upper and turn it into our dream house. Make and raise some babies inside it. Dog in the backyard. Family dinners. Over-the-top Christmas mornings after staying up all night building bikes and dollhouses…”

Georgie was watching me, a soft look in her pretty eyes. “I like that dream.”

“Yeah, I hold nothing against people who have ambitions. But I’ve always been more drawn to the simple life.”