“Naw,” he replied seriously. “Not really. Hungry?”
“Starved,” she answered at once, and was surprised to discover it was true. “C’mon, expense account guy. Time to knock my socks off with some comped appetizers.”
* * *
“So you work in a brewery that doesn’t brew and you drive an ambulance that doesn’t…”
“Ambulate?”
“And you’re a surgeon for teddy bears.”
“Stop making it sound out of the ordinary.”
That’s you in a nutshell, Oz thought. If I had to pick a phrase that described you without going into your essential hotness: out of the ordinary.
“Also, you’re a snoop.”
“It’s in the job description,” he protested.
“Your job? Show me the part of your hiring package that laid out where you’d have to walk into an office that isn’t yours over to a desk that isn’t yours to read mail that isn’t yours.”
Not that she minded. There was nothing on that desk that could hurt her, nothing that could be traced to her past. She’d never shit in her own nest. But still.
The principle of the thing.
Or something.
The waitress’s timely arrival put paid to the brewing argument, and Lila briefly considered ignoring Garsea’s advice and getting the salad. But who would that punish, exactly? And the red wine–braised duck leg sounded way better than spite salad.
“So kids must really love you, huh?”
Surprised, she almost knocked over her ginger-lime rickey. “Why d’you say that?”
“Well. I mean… You fix up their toys.” Oz mimed sewing. Or picking fleas off his napkin…tough to be sure… “And then you give ’em back. You must be like a rock star to them.”
“No. I don’t meet them or anything. I don’t interact. Their folks ship me the remains, I fix ’em and send ’em back. It’s just a job.”
“Well, Sally sure took a shine to you.”
Here we go. “Sally’s options that night were limited,” she pointed out. “She would have taken a shine to anyone who could have gotten her out of that alley and stuffed her with honey and pizza.”
“But still.” He was leaning forward now. He’d ditched the Matrix coat and was in a crisp white shirt that she just bet was tailor-made. There was a haberdashery in this very building. Lila hadn’t known those places still existed. Didn’t everyone do everything online?
No tie. Shirt open at the throat, exposing a tanned neck. Black trousers probably tailor-made, too. Pricey-looking loafers. No socks. Even his ankles were tan. Who had a natural tan this time of year? Gawd, those vivid green eyes are annoying. Oh, shit, he’s still talking.
“…after all, you helped her.”
“Yeah, she was a hurt kid in the middle of nowhere. Helping her doesn’t mean I get along with all children, it just means I’m not a drooling sociopath. And don’t misinterpret this as concern, but how’s she doing?”
Ox leaned back and let out a sigh. “She’s having some trouble adjusting to her reality.”
“Understandable.”
“I, uh, can’t really get into it.”
“You brought her up.”
He drummed his fingers on the table and just looked at her. “Mmmm. So why Lilydale?”
“Why not Lilydale? Looked like a nice place, rent was decent, office space was decent, reasonably safe from zombie plagues and/or Armageddon.”
“What?”
“In the movies, it’s always places like New York or D.C. that get destroyed. Aliens don’t care about Lilydale. Plus I like seasons. I hear Minnesota has at least two.”
He laughed. “I get it. I was in Florida for a few months. A sweaty Santa in shorts and surrounded by palm trees was a real mind-fuck.”
Their waitress chose that moment to deposit their orders, then darted off.
Lila took a nibble of duck. It promptly melted in her mouth. “Your sister wasn’t kidding. This is pretty sublime. Food this good? Is why I could never be a vegetarian.”
Ox shuddered. “Me neither. Listen, thanks for coming out with me.”
“Hey, free duck. Who’s gonna turn that down?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Lila put down her fork. “That’s an odd question to ask during a lunch that isn’t a date because it’s strictly business.”
“I’m just trying to get to know you.”
“Why?”
“Well, we’re neighbors.”
“No, we aren’t. You’ve had your own place for years. Don’t look surprised. Mama Macropi likes to talk about you. A lot.”
His face lit up. “You asked her about me?”
Shit. “No. Like I said. She talks about you.”
“Oh. So are you? Seeing anyone?”
“Yes. I’ve been happily married for some time. Next month is our third anniversary. As the traditional gift is leather, it should be an interesting evening.”
“No,” he said with aggravating confidence. “You’re not married.”
“Then why did you ask if I’m seeing anyone? And then lie about why you asked?”
Her rising irritation fell apart when she saw his expression: interest, confusion, and a little…fear? “I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry. We can talk about something else.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not seeing anyone.”
“You can’t know what a relief that is.” The hell of it was, she was only being a little sarcastic.
He leaned in and suddenly her world was a pair of green eyes. “Lila. I didn’t ask you that just to fish for info. Something is—I can’t even figure out how to explain—okay, ever since we—”
“Ow!” Bart Simpson said, because he was a rude cartoon child. “Quit it. Ow! Quit it.”
Ox almost dropped his fork. “The hell is that?”
“Sorry,” Lila said, fishing her phone out of her purse. She’d never hear whatever Ox had been working up to, but now she had something new to fret about. “That’s me.” She was 95 percent sure what she was going to see, but it was nice to know her paranoia was once again justified. How’d it go again? Is it paranoia when people really are plotting against you? “Oh, look at that.”
Oz had fallen to systematically demolishing his tartare, which had been shaped into a thick disc that resembled a raw hamburger sans bun. Which it was, come to think of it. “What? Some poor kiddo accidentally flush their teddy bear?”
“That’s only happened twice.” Gratifying as it was to be proved right, it pissed her off all the same. As they’d established, this wasn’t a date. But her phone had established it wasn’t
