Page 23 of Knocked up By the Minotaur

Damn, he must really be set on sending a message to this Sera person. I eye his upturned palm suspiciously as I place my fingers in his grasp, and he tucks my hand into the crook of his elbow and walks us down the driveway.

“Is this your way of circumventing the ‘no touch’ rule?” I ask, wriggling my fingers against his jacket. “By getting me to touch you first?”

“What do you take me for?”

“A cheat and a scoundrel.”

His chuckles. “Well, nobody can say you aren’t honest.” I feel my awkward nerves melt away as we slip into our familiar, teasing back and forth.

“Honest to a fault, I’m told.”

He gives me a considering look as he pulls out his car keys and opens the door for me. “I’m convinced you don’t have any of those.”

“What, faults?”

“Mm,” he hums in assent, helping me lower into his Mercedes before shutting my door and heading around into the driver’s seat.

I eye him as we begin to drive. “You must go to the dentist often.” When he sends me an odd look, I elaborate. “All that ridiculous sweet talk that falls out of your mouth can’t be good for your dental health.”

He lets out a long, chesty laugh, shaking his head and sending me several more side-eyes. “Grace Davis, I’m beginning to suspect you haven’t everdated somebody worthy of you, if you can’t even handle a compliment.”

“Uh-huh,” I reply, layering as much sarcasm into my voice as I can, even as I can’t help but smile in response to his warm laughter. “And I suppose you’re the man to fill those shoes?”

His smile doesn’t exactly slip, but something in his expression changes, and he remains silent for several long moments.

Finally, he quietly says, “I don’t date.”

I nod, since this basically just confirms my suspicions about him. “See, that’s why I can’t let you charm your way between my legs. You’re a dangerous man, Oli. All the more so because I quite like you.”

He doesn’t respond, and I shuffle in my seat to look at the pretty lights as we turn a corner onto Main, which is lined with the quaintest old-fashioned lamp posts that flicker on in the dusk as I watch. I’ve already forgotten our conversation by the time we loop all the way around the street, which is essentially one big circle around Heartwood Grove, and take a side street which is lined with bars and restaurants. We park in the lot down the far end, and I unbuckle, but Oli remains in his seat, staring at his keys.

“What is it?”

He shakes his head and turns to me with a smile. “Nothing. Are you ready?”

I grin. “Let’s go make a bitch jealous.”

He takes us down the street to a jazz bar and lounge that already looks fairly full in the now dark, night air. It’s getting chilly, and a prim, ewe-faced hostess leads us towards the sitting area in the courtyard section out front. When I wrap my arms around my midsection and sit, wondering if the long sleeves of the dress will be enough to keep me warm out here, Oli notices and asks for the outdoor heaters beside us to be turned on. In no time I’m leaning back in the comfortable two-seater wicker sofa, a cocktail in one hand and Oli sitting opposite me with a glass of whiskey. He’s thrown his jacket over the back of his seat and has his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing his strong forearms.

“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, taking a delicious sip of my fancy pink whatever-it-is that I ordered, finally tearing my eyes from the soft down of fur that covers a few distinct veins on his arms. A girl’s allowed to look, after all. “All you said was that it’s my turn to help you with Sera. Did you stalk her and discover she had a reservation here, or am I making her jealous with my presence by way of the incredible gossip network this town has?”

“First of all,” Oli says, lifting a finger, “I’m not trying to make her jealous. I don’t want to hurt her, thank you. Just like you, I’m hoping to… discourage her persistence. Her office is one street over, and she comes here for after-work drinks on Fridays. I hope that if she sees me with another female, she’ll better take the message that my words apparently don’t give her.”

“What actually happened between you two?” I ask, as I have another sip. “You don’t date, so I’m going to guess that you two were supposed to be no-strings, but she started getting a bit stringy? So to speak?”

He leans back. “Am I that predicable?”

“Am I wrong?” I counter.

He sighs and props his glass on one knee. “She approached me,” he murmurs, running his free hand over a horn. “Said she was looking for something purely physical, told me she hoped I understood what that meant. Of course, I told her I did. I don’t date, I was very clear on that. Never will. I very specifically told her I wouldn’t budge on that front. I don’t want to settle down, have children, or do any of the things that being in a relationship eventually leads to.”

“And she was all for it, until she suddenly wasn’t.” I finish for him, wondering vaguely what that must be like, hopping from one emotionally disconnected dalliance to another all your life. Something about that feels lonely to me.

He shrugs hopelessly. “I was veryclear, Grace. I have no desire to lead females on about my intentions. I don’t want to use anyone, or hurt anyone. Not like my… well, anyway, it’s a messy business. Manipulating someone into believing you want more than you do seems dirty. Whoever I might choose to spend time with, my intention is only ever to make them feel good.”

I take another sip. “So noble.”

He shrugs again and quirks a half smile. “I want to leave someone better off than they were when we met.”

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