Page 81 of The Reluctant Hero

“Why?” Her bland question isn’t rude, which confuses me. She honestly wants to know why I’d prefer a safe activity. She’s beyond nuts at this point.

“No jail time?” I offer helplessly.

“No one would see us,” she assures me in her soft tone.

“With my loud mouth squealing in joy? We’d get busted in no time.”

“You have no self-control,” she comments with a blank look that’s honestly creepy. It’s like she’s lecturing me, and she’sverydisappointed. Scarily so. For some reason, that look reminds me of Mom’s lecture. It eases the fear factor of the expression.

“Good,” I say smugly. “If my lack of control keeps you from doing illegal shit, I’ll hold that title.”

“What would be a normal thing to do?” She abruptly changes the subject, but I roll with it.

“Who knows? Karaoke?”

“You want to sing,” she gives me her flat look and points at her throat.

“With enough alcohol, everyone wants to sing, and I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a problem,” I look at her neck as if I could see what’s going on. There aren’t any scars or bruising, so I’m not sure.

“You didn’t notice my voice,” she says flatly.

“I thought you had laryngitis or something. Lay off! You’re lucky I haven’t been throwing cough drops at you and asking you to stand six feet away so I don’t catch it.”

“You want to drink.”

“I like that you’re staying on point with the conversation, but give me a second to catch up,” I mutter. Do I want to drink? I have enough money to get a ride home. And why have I automatically accepted that she’s joined me? I’m acting like we hang out all the time, and this is the second time I’ve really spoken to her. Am I that desperate for company?

“Let’s go.”

I stop as she begins walking with purpose away from me.

When she notices I’m not with her, she turns back. “Are you being a brat?”

“Am I what?” I laugh. Now that she mentions it, a lot of my problems stem from being a raging asshole. Some would consider that being a brat. If the shoe fits, I’ll wear it. If it has cushions.

“I don’t think I am for this second. I’m just wondering if your white van filled with candy is around the corner waiting for me.”

“My white truck is in the parking lot. I don’t like sweets. I know a place to eat and have a drink. I don’t know if they do karaoke.”

I blink at the succinct information dump.

“Well, ok then.”

***

The Bittersweet Outpost isn’t very busy and I doubt they do karaoke here.

“Doesn’t a Matthias own this place,” I mutter with a curled lip.

“Who cares,” South replies.

“When you put it like that,” I give her a bland look.

I order nachos in the hopes I’ll actually get to eat them this time, and South has a plain burger. I relax with a beer, andshe drinks water. We are literally worlds apart in attitude. How are we hanging out again?

“The women had a fit that you weren’t there today.”

“Ugh, can you not?” I glare at her blank expression.

---