“Well, I don’t want children,” he answered matter-of-factly, “and I’ve never met anyone who understood how much I work. Or that I actually enjoy my job.”
I swirled the last of my wine before savouring the final mouthful. I was tipsy and when Corbin signalled for another round, I only grinned. I knew he was studying my reaction to that admission, and it made me wonder if he’d received poor responses to that same declaration in the past. It was an odd admission to simply blurt out like that and it felt like a test I was desperate to pass.
I’m sure many women wouldn’t have stuck around with someone who didn’t have children on the cards, so that was no surprise, but weweren’t on a date. And oddly, while it wasn’t something I’d discussed with anyone besides Mum, coincidentally I felt the same.
“Cheers to knowing what you want and asserting that for yourself,” I raised my freshly filled glass and clinked it against his. “I don’t want kids either,” I admitted, not missing the way his eyebrows lifted just a fraction, a small flicker of surprise crossing his face before smoothing out again. “But I do want to settle down with someone.” I added.
“Have you dated in the past?” He asked and I noticed the way he leaned in closer, hanging on my response. He wasn’t easy to read but I was already getting better at navigating his subtle gestures.
“I have. But I’m yet to find someone with an attractive brain. Looks are secondary to me. I need intellectual appeal first and foremost. Then it’s about the physicality and if it fills my cup,” I added.
“What do you mean?” He questioned with a slight tilt of his head.
“About intelligence or the physical touch?”
“What do you mean about the physicality filling your cup?”
“Ohhhh. You’ve probably realised I’m fairly tactile. I crave physical touch almost as much as I do a good poutine after a night on the booze,” I giggled when he scrunched his face in confusion.
“Do I want to know?” He asked sceptically which only made me laugh more.
“Oh, you’ve never heard of a poutine? You’re missing out, my friend. It’s fries with cheese and gravy. Absolutely delicious,” I pointed a finger towards him when his frown deepened. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he replied with that smirk I loved.
“Anywayyyy,” I said dramatically, “physical touch is without a doubt my love language. Both giving and receiving. And if I go a while without it, I start to crave it. Which is why I even downloaded Vybes earlier.” His eyes widened and I wondered if that was another of those things I wasn't supposed to just blurt out.
“You downloaded Vybes?” He asked, that same underlying irritation in his tone from earlier back as his attention darted to where my phone sat on the table between us.
“I know, I know,” I raised my palms ready to justify my reasoning. “But, in my defence, it’s been a while and it’s not sexual for me.”
“Shelbs, that is literally the point of the app,” he was rigid, his hand gripping his glass a little tighter.
“I was going to be safe,” I said reassuringly. “But it doesn’t matter, anyway. Serenity Ridge seems to be out of attractive men who are interested in a Canadian who only wants them for their skin,” I deadpanned.
His mouth opened ever so slightly before he barked out a laugh. “This is the weirdness Blake was referring to. You sound murderous,” he said with a shake of the head. The need to explain myself was strong and it was apparent two-drink Shelby was here with her sieve-like mouth ready to spill every single thought.
“Wait,” I demanded with a small chuckle. “Let me explain.” I leaned in closer, careful not to allow the entire restaurant to hear my desperation.
“It’s not as though I want a lifelong commitment, although if it was the right person, I would. But…” I trailed off thinking what it was I was trying to say. Focusing on the view of the ancient looking vineyards, especially now at sunset when the light was turning everything amber.
What was I trying to say exactly?
Reaching for my glass and finishing the remaining wine, I noticed Corbin watching me quietly. His features were soft, his own glass nearly empty and if I wasn’t wrong, the beer had relaxed him. That shield he kept in place was a little less strained, those green eyes darker in this light and if I really focused, had a goldish tinge to them.
“Imagine I’m a solar battery, only my ability to recharge doesn’t come from the sun but from the warmth of others. I mean, I’m not talking about a random stranger, but someone who wouldn’t mind ifI just basted them like a turkey and slid along their body until I was replenished.” His eyes widened and I realised how that would have sounded.
“Oh my god,” I wiped the air with my hand as if that would take back the diatribe I'd spilled across the space between us.
“What I mean -” I paused, taking a deep breath and doing my best to stop the maniacal laugh that wanted to escape at the monstrosity of this conversation, “What I mean to say is I thrive when I’m recharged, and I get that from people. It’s why, as you’ve probably noticed, I reach for you a lot. And I’m sorry if it makes you feel awkward. I haven’t really had a friend in a long time. But just tell me to stop and I will get my fill somewhere else. Like that pervy barman,” I added as a joke, but by the scowl on Corbin’s face, it missed the mark.
“I don’t even know where to start with unpacking that monologue,” he responded finally, and I grinned.
“Two-drink Shelby has no sense of self-preservation,” I admitted.
“Well, we might need to get you to three-drink Shelbs quickly then.”
“You don’t want her either. She’s horny.” I winced at my verbal diarrhoea, before throwing my head back at his flushed cheeks and cackling. My laugh was genuine, but definitely a little embarrassed.
