Page 37 of Frosted and Sliced

“Why would you need to ask? Isn’t it obvious that we weren’t headed home?” he said. He seemed genuinely perplexed, like he couldn’t fathom why she would ask such a question when the answer was self-evident.

“Maybe I see that we’re not going home, but I don’t know where we’re going or why,” she reasoned.

“Maybe it’s something, maybe it’s nothing. It seems wasteful to explain when I don’t know the outcome,” he said.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It doesn’t matter if you know the outcome, what matters is that I want to be involved in the journey.”

“If you weren’t involved in the journey, I wouldn’t have brought you,” he said.

“But I didn’t know that, hence you have to tell me things.”

“Me bringing you along is me telling you things,” he said. “Otherwise I would have done this on my own.”

There was part of Georgie that wanted to scream at how completely obtuse he was. But what bothered her more was that she also understood where he was coming from, mostly because she knew him by now. He was a man of actions, not words. The act of bringing her with him meant a lot more than a tedious explanation of his thought process and motives.

“No, but…” she floundered.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s not the way it’s done. Youhaveto explain things to people,” she said.

“Why?” he returned.

“Because otherwise it’s considered less of an outing and more of a kidnapping,” she said, to which he replied, “Ha.”

“Burke, I’m serious here. I’m trying to help you.”

He squinted, confused. “Help me with what?”

“Socialization.”

“Why?”

She tossed up her hands in frustration. “Because what if it’s not me in this chair? What if it’s some other woman?”

He squinted harder. “Why would it be some other woman? Who else would I possibly bring with me?”

That made her cheeks flush and her heart rate pick up, but she powered through because she felt this was important. “A date, maybe.”

Now the squint turned into a grimace. “Georgie, no.”

“What do you mean no, Burke? It could happen. You’re, you know,” she waved her hand toward him, “not repulsive and stuff.”

Somehow he managed to quirk an eyebrow in her direction without taking his attention off the road. “Yeah?”

“Don’t get cocky. I find lots of men attractive. The bar is low.”

“How low?” he asked.

“You know that guy who sold us the birdseed at the hardware store,” she said.

“The one with the hairy mole in the center of his forehead?” he clarified.

She nodded. “My childhood crush. That mole gave me palpitations.”

“That mole gives everyone palpitations. I think I heard it talking to me,” he said.

She laughed, but she meant what she said. Growing up with a brother who always had stupidly attractive friends nearby had made her immune. “It’s the inside stuff that counts more.”

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