The Player and the Pixie
Page 11
“Squaw Lake, yes?”
“Squam Lake. And it’s really beautiful, peaceful, calm. Many of the cabins have docks on the water. It’s so quiet, especially at night, and the stars are so bright. They fill the sky and feel almost close enough to touch. It’s truly a retreat.”
He looked reluctantly interested. “That doesn’t sound entirely terrible.”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to smirk at his less than high praise. “Like I said last night, you should give it a try. Meditation would do you some good.”
“Getting in touch with my feminine side?” His eyes twinkled with a devilish glint.
“Oh no. You don’t have a feminine side—”
He barked a laugh.
“—but it might get you in touch with the missing syllables in family.”
Sean’s laugh waned, but his smile lingered. His lips really were sinful. I tried not to stare, instead tilting my chin upward in challenge. “I’m serious. Don’t underestimate the power of inner peace.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “Peace, eh?”
“That’s right.”
“And who will keep Goldilocks safe from the bears?”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “There are no bears in New Hampshire.”
“What about wolves?” he asked, leaning forward, looking wolfish, his eyes on my nose.
I lifted my chin higher, this time with false confidence. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
For some unknown reason, this statement made him frown. He studied me for a long moment, no longer wolfish but no less intimidating. I endeavored to appear unaffected by his stare by nonchalantly eating the fish on my plate.
Unfortunately, endeavoring to eat nonchalantly wasn’t easily done.
Abruptly, his knee nudged mine and his tone grew intent. “What did you steal, Lucy?”
His swift change of subject caused the bite of tuna I’d just swallowed to go down the wrong tube. I coughed fitfully and shifted in my seat, staring at my utensils. “Some eyeshadow.”
“I didn’t realize eyeshadow was so vital to the survival of pixies it had to be stolen.”
“That’s not why I took it,” I mumbled and shame bit at my gut. Shoplifting was my biggest flaw, the part of myself I saw as the ugliest, but it was also my biggest secret. Which was why I felt terribly uncomfortable discussing it over the dinner table.
“So why then?”
I frowned, still not looking him in the eye. “It’s a compulsion. A bad habit. I’ve been trying to quit, but it’s hard when I’m around certain . . . negative influences.”
“And those would be?” His knee was full on resting against mine now, but I couldn’t tell if he was doing it to comfort me or make me nervous.
“My mother.”
“Ah.”
“I haven’t stolen once since I moved to New York, then I come home for a visit and poof, I’m back to thieving.” I slumped in my seat, feeling glum.
Sean’s knee knocked mine and I looked up. He stared at me kindly and admitted, “I do it, too.”
“Do what, too?”
“Take things that don’t belong to me.”
“You shoplift?”
“Not exactly. Not from shops at any rate. But I often take things from other people’s bathroom cabinets.” Very quickly he added as though to defend his habit, “Creams and cosmetics and such. I find it’s a good way to discover new products.”
“Other people? What other people?”
“Women.”
“Women?”
“Yes.”
“So . . . who are these women?”
Sean rolled his eyes. “Just women.”
I scrutinized him and his just women, and I knew at once which women he meant. “You mean the women you have sex with? Of the one-night-stand variety?”
He nodded once just before taking a large gulp of his drink, not looking at me.
Huh. That was a very specific habit, and it was still stealing. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you do it?”
Sean’s eyes cut to mine and he studied me for a long moment; his stare was verging on peculiar when he finally shrugged. “Of course, there’s no other reason.”
I poked at my food as I thought on it. A few moments passed before I spoke again. “Or maybe, deep down, having these relations with just women makes you feel, I don’t know, unfulfilled emotionally, since they’re essentially strangers and one-night stands are generally all about the sex. So, the next morning, in order to make yourself feel a little bit better, you steal things.”
Sean tilted his head. “Are you psychoanalyzing me?”
“I’m attempting to, yes.”
He looked away, watching as a few other customers passed by our table. “Well don’t. I promise you, I’m not that deep.”
He sounded sort of sad.
“We all have depth, Sean. It’s a side effect of being human.”
He stared at me for so long I began to feel uncomfortable. I had to break the silence, so I stood and gestured to the bathrooms. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I tried not to sprint, but it was difficult. I felt his eyes follow me the entire way, causing gooseflesh to rise over my upper arms and heat rise to my neck.
Once I was safe in the ladies’ room, I ran some cold water over my hands then held my fingers to my neck, willing my skin to cool down. I suddenly realized that spending time with Sean Cassidy was a lot more dangerous than I thought, because in a strange way I was actually enjoying myself.
“Squam Lake. And it’s really beautiful, peaceful, calm. Many of the cabins have docks on the water. It’s so quiet, especially at night, and the stars are so bright. They fill the sky and feel almost close enough to touch. It’s truly a retreat.”
He looked reluctantly interested. “That doesn’t sound entirely terrible.”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to smirk at his less than high praise. “Like I said last night, you should give it a try. Meditation would do you some good.”
“Getting in touch with my feminine side?” His eyes twinkled with a devilish glint.
“Oh no. You don’t have a feminine side—”
He barked a laugh.
“—but it might get you in touch with the missing syllables in family.”
Sean’s laugh waned, but his smile lingered. His lips really were sinful. I tried not to stare, instead tilting my chin upward in challenge. “I’m serious. Don’t underestimate the power of inner peace.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “Peace, eh?”
“That’s right.”
“And who will keep Goldilocks safe from the bears?”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “There are no bears in New Hampshire.”
“What about wolves?” he asked, leaning forward, looking wolfish, his eyes on my nose.
I lifted my chin higher, this time with false confidence. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
For some unknown reason, this statement made him frown. He studied me for a long moment, no longer wolfish but no less intimidating. I endeavored to appear unaffected by his stare by nonchalantly eating the fish on my plate.
Unfortunately, endeavoring to eat nonchalantly wasn’t easily done.
Abruptly, his knee nudged mine and his tone grew intent. “What did you steal, Lucy?”
His swift change of subject caused the bite of tuna I’d just swallowed to go down the wrong tube. I coughed fitfully and shifted in my seat, staring at my utensils. “Some eyeshadow.”
“I didn’t realize eyeshadow was so vital to the survival of pixies it had to be stolen.”
“That’s not why I took it,” I mumbled and shame bit at my gut. Shoplifting was my biggest flaw, the part of myself I saw as the ugliest, but it was also my biggest secret. Which was why I felt terribly uncomfortable discussing it over the dinner table.
“So why then?”
I frowned, still not looking him in the eye. “It’s a compulsion. A bad habit. I’ve been trying to quit, but it’s hard when I’m around certain . . . negative influences.”
“And those would be?” His knee was full on resting against mine now, but I couldn’t tell if he was doing it to comfort me or make me nervous.
“My mother.”
“Ah.”
“I haven’t stolen once since I moved to New York, then I come home for a visit and poof, I’m back to thieving.” I slumped in my seat, feeling glum.
Sean’s knee knocked mine and I looked up. He stared at me kindly and admitted, “I do it, too.”
“Do what, too?”
“Take things that don’t belong to me.”
“You shoplift?”
“Not exactly. Not from shops at any rate. But I often take things from other people’s bathroom cabinets.” Very quickly he added as though to defend his habit, “Creams and cosmetics and such. I find it’s a good way to discover new products.”
“Other people? What other people?”
“Women.”
“Women?”
“Yes.”
“So . . . who are these women?”
Sean rolled his eyes. “Just women.”
I scrutinized him and his just women, and I knew at once which women he meant. “You mean the women you have sex with? Of the one-night-stand variety?”
He nodded once just before taking a large gulp of his drink, not looking at me.
Huh. That was a very specific habit, and it was still stealing. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you do it?”
Sean’s eyes cut to mine and he studied me for a long moment; his stare was verging on peculiar when he finally shrugged. “Of course, there’s no other reason.”
I poked at my food as I thought on it. A few moments passed before I spoke again. “Or maybe, deep down, having these relations with just women makes you feel, I don’t know, unfulfilled emotionally, since they’re essentially strangers and one-night stands are generally all about the sex. So, the next morning, in order to make yourself feel a little bit better, you steal things.”
Sean tilted his head. “Are you psychoanalyzing me?”
“I’m attempting to, yes.”
He looked away, watching as a few other customers passed by our table. “Well don’t. I promise you, I’m not that deep.”
He sounded sort of sad.
“We all have depth, Sean. It’s a side effect of being human.”
He stared at me for so long I began to feel uncomfortable. I had to break the silence, so I stood and gestured to the bathrooms. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I tried not to sprint, but it was difficult. I felt his eyes follow me the entire way, causing gooseflesh to rise over my upper arms and heat rise to my neck.
Once I was safe in the ladies’ room, I ran some cold water over my hands then held my fingers to my neck, willing my skin to cool down. I suddenly realized that spending time with Sean Cassidy was a lot more dangerous than I thought, because in a strange way I was actually enjoying myself.
