Page 14 of Romancing the Clone
She shakes her head, pulling out a small container with a few more cookies inside it. “Just a couple for you specifically.”
I’m touched that she went to so much effort just to see me make a face. My heart warms and I can’t decide if I want to hug her or just reach over and brush a few tendrils of loose hair from her face. I do neither, of course. I don’t have the nerve. Instead, I gesture at the container and push on Pluto’s head again, because he’s still licking. “Give me the rest. I’m going to mix them in with some of the regular cookies and watch the chaos. What’s in them?”
“Some herb that Skritch told me tastes like dirt to humans. I was curious if he was right.”
“He’s right.” I sniff the cookie and make a face.
Simone’s delight is apparent. “I got you so good. I’m going to have to think up some other heinous flavor combinations and hit you when you least expect it.”
“You assume I’ll be by every day,” I counter.
“Oh, you’ll be by.” She gives me a confident look and hands me the cookie container. “You can’t resist me. Or my pet.”
Her teasing makes me all flustered. It’s like she can read my mind and knows that I had filthy dreams about her last night. That we were snuggled in bed together, and when I reached for her, she kissed me…and kissed me and just kept on kissing me for hours.
First time in a long time I haven’t wanted to wake up.
Pluto gives my leg another wet lick and I squirm away, the moment broken.
A customer strolls up, and Simone turns her focus on her while I sip my tea, waiting for a lull in her business again. For months now, I’ve been lingering for longer each morning. I could talk to her for hours a day and never get enough. The way she thinks is fascinating to me. She’s crafty, always looking for a new approach to an old problem, and ambitious enough to go after what she wants. I admire that. I’ve spent so long trying to figure out who and what I am that sometimes I wonder if I’m my own person or just a pale copy of the original Ruth from Earth. I don’t normally doubt myself too much—Ruthie’s the one eaten up by it—but sometimes I wonder if that’s why I’m not braver.
Because if I was really brave, I’d tell Simone that I think she’s incredible. Better than incredible. Radiant. The best thing on this planet. The person I think about every morning when I wake up and wonder about every night as I go to sleep.
I watch her as she chats with the pretty blonde woman and tosses an extra cookie—the good kind—into her bag. She waves as the woman leaves and then turns back to me. “I can’t keep you. I imagine you need to head on out so you don’t get into trouble.”
“They can wait on me. It’s not like I’m pivotal right now.” I bend down and rub Pluto’s jowls, since I’m not going to get to see him for several hours. I want to get all my loving in before he has a chance to miss me. So I scratch at his ear buds and run my fingers over his neck, getting all the itchy spots while he squirms and pants, loving the affection.
“You’re not pivotal right now? How so?” Simone asks, even as she tidies up her trays, sliding cookies down to the front of the cart so they’re better seen by customers.
I’m doing bookkeeping and menu planning for the cantina, and I’ve already got everything that’s going onto the menu laidout. Zaemen’s in charge of the food, and I’m going to assist, but until the cantina actually opens, I don’t have a whole heck of a lot to do. Her question makes it easy for me to pose the next one, though. “Did you hear we’re opening soon? Next Saturday.”
Simone pauses. “Are you inviting me?”
“Everyone’s invited.”
“Ah.” There’s a beat that lasts too long, and I wonder if I said something wrong. But she gives me a cheery look, reaching up to adjust the sun-shade. “It should be a fun way to celebrate my birthday.”
“That’s your birthday?”
“If you morph the Risda calendar into a human one, sure. Close enough.” She takes a sip of her tea, humming with approval that it’s already been sweetened for her, just how she likes.
“Happy birthday,” I say lamely, trying not to stare at her lips as they move over the rim of the cup. Don’t be weird, Ruth-Ann. Don’t be weird.
“When’s yours?”
“My what?”
She sets the cup down with a wry look. “Your birthday, silly.”
“Oh, uh…I don’t know.” I suddenly feel flustered. Maybe I’m getting too much sun and hot tea. “You know, maybe I should go.”
“Wait, what do you mean you don’t know your birthday?” Simone asks, her brows furrowing. “Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened.” I manage a tight smile.
“Oookay. Surely one of your sisters?—”
“Don’t ask my sisters about our birthday,” I snap, panicked.
