Page 19 of The Reaper
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
Finn pulled the cooler handle as we started back up the dock. “You ever think maybe that’s why you don’t date?”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I mean it. Most people leave work at work.”
“My work is my house.”
“My point exactly.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “You’re not wrong.”
We passed the edge of the marina where the sun finally breached the horizon. It spilled golden light across the water, hitting the sails and railings like fire. I felt it on my face and let it warm my skin for a moment before answering.
“I’ve dated,” I said.
“Chefs,” he said knowingly.
“Yeah.”
“How’d that go again?”
“You were there.”
“Right,” he said, dragging the word out. “The knife block incident.”
I laughed, an actual laugh, short and sharp. “That wasn’t my fault.”
“He accused you of plating over his sauce.”
“Because I did it better.”
“You told him that.”
“I was being honest.”
Finn looked at me sideways. “You’re like a human Molotov cocktail when it comes to relationships.”
“Thanks.”
“Seriously. You’ve got, like, one setting: fire.”
“I also have simmer.”
He smirked. “When?”
“When I sleep. Alone.”
He rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed on his face.
We reached the back of the lot where our van was parked. He loaded the cooler while I leaned against the side door and looked out at the harbor.
“I’m not looking for a relationship,” I said, quieter now.
“No?”
