I couldn’t tell if Elliot had laughed at me because he knew why I’d turned into a clumsy disaster, or if he had just laughed at me being a clumsy disaster.
My stomach growled again, loudly, and I heard Elliot laugh again.
“Come on, baby shifter,” he said, picking up the shovel to go with the pitchfork he’d been using to turn over the dirt and manure. “Let’s get you fed.”
My neck was hot—well, hotter, since every part of me was hot and probably a little sunburned because I had not been diligently reapplying the sunscreen Elliot had tried to get me to put on my, and I quote, ‘pasty white-boy skin.’
“Fed with what?” I asked Elliot, since I knew we didn’t have food ready to go, and the few things he had in his freezer I couldn’t eat. Sandwiches, maybe?—
“Greasy Chinese, obviously,” came the reply. “We’ve got shit for Indian food out here, but we do have decent Chinese… assuming you like greasy American-style Chinese food.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed, a bit more enthusiastically than I’d meant, but not more than I felt. “Do they deliver all the way out here?”
Elliot grinned at me. “Charlie does for me,” he replied.
“Charlie?” I hated the slight flash of jealousy.
Elliot nodded. “Charlie Dao. Her family runs the restaurant.”
“Her?” Now I felt stupid. Assuming Elliot was gay and not bi or pan, anyway. That thought made my stomach churn a little, but I tried to hide it.
“Charlotte Dao. Her dad, Huy, became friends with my dad in the last decade or so. After Mom died. Because Charlie’s mom was in chemo at the same time.”
Now I really felt like shit. Feeling jealous because of… I don’t know what my problem is. No, I do. My problem is that I’m in love with a man who probably feels nothing more than lust forme, and I know that, which means I know he’s just as likely to have sex with other people as he is me, and I don’t want that. It makes me sick to think of anyone else’s hands on him, or his hands on anyone else.
“Is she your age?” I asked him, pretending that I wasn’t being a clingy, selfish dick.
“Charlie? She’s younger. More… well,yourage.” He made a face, and I wasn’t sure what it meant. “A baby,” he said.
“I’mthirty,” I pointed out, a little irritably. “I’m pretty sure that elevates me out of ‘baby’ status.”
“Not to me,” came Elliot’s response, which sounded a little strained, despite the half-smile on his lips.
I sighed. “What’s the threshold, then?” I asked.
“What?” He looked at me, a little confused.
“At what age will I no longerbea baby?” I asked him.
The next smile felt more genuine, but still a bit… something. “To me, you’ll always be a baby.”
“Great,” I muttered, then headed toward the house, my longer legs moving me faster than Elliot’s shorter stride.
One more reason he wasn’t going to be interested in me. I was fuckable, but you didn’t date a baby. Okay, that didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean.
I kicked my extremely muddy shoes off in the garage, then padded quickly to the bathroom. I stripped down and practically threw myself into the shower, annoyance at myself and resentment about Elliot’s attitude surging through me. I turned the water on as hot as I could physically stand it, then stayed there a lot longer than I probably should have.
When I finally left the bathroom, I found Elliot on the couch, flipping through the TV channels. He looked up at me, his brow slightly furrowed. “You okay?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “Yeah.” It wasn’t his fault I couldn’t control my own emotions.
“I hope it’s okay that I ordered for you. I didn’t want to make you wait any longer than you had to for food.” He sounded apologetic.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I replied, leaning against the wall in the doorway. I didn’t mind if he ordered me food. I knew Elliot wouldn’t get me anything I couldn’t have.
He put down the remote and turned his full attention on me. “You want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
I didn’t. I mean, I did, but I also didn’t. “I’m tired,” I replied.
