Page 26 of The Weekend Crashers
Aidan smiles appreciatively. “Point taken. Look, there’s no real debate here. It’s age-old, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, from the dawn of time, men are hunters and gatherers and women tend to the nest.”
“Wow. That’s not at all sexist,” she says sarcastically.
“Am I wrong?”
“I think you are, in fact, wrong. And what does that have to do with our respective weekends?”
“It means we’re both acting according to our natural strengths: Men build fire and shelter, and women darn socks.”
Maggie’s jaw drops. “You didnotjust say that. You know what? I bet you couldn’t last through a single knitting class. I bet you can’t even get the yarn on the needle.”
“That’s a bet I’m willing to take. If you admit you wouldn’t last a day out in the wilderness. You couldn’t start your own fire next to a tank of gasoline.” He’s grinning, and she knows he’s simply teasing her. But she’s a little offended because he probably also believes it to some extent.
“I’ll admit no such thing. I raised my daughter in New York City alone. Self-sufficiency is my middle name.”
“New York City? Hailing a cab is not a survival skill.”
“I have plenty of survival skills.”
“Prove it.”
She shakes her head no. They fall back into silence. After a minute, Aidan turns to her.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says. “Cole, for some reason, isn’t getting along with his cousin. They got into a fight earlier—a literal fight. And I can’t get through to him. At this point, I’ll try anything to salvage the weekend. So maybe you and your daughter come along for one of our outings tomorrow.”
“Are you trying to set her up with your son? Because she’s got a serious boyfriend,” Maggie says.
“No! Absolutely not. I don’t meddle in my son’s personal life. That’s a line I cross at my own peril. But I’m thinking maybe together, we can jolt Cole out of his funk. And have a friendly competition while we’re at it. What do you say?”
Is he joking? No. He seems absolutely serious.
“We’re here to take knitting workshops.”
“Nice excuse,” he says.
She shakes her head and smiles. “It’s true.”
“Also true: You can’t hack it out there in the wilderness.”
She laughs. “Right. And you couldn’t knit a simple potholder to save your life.”
He seems to consider this. “Well, put your money where your mouth is: I have fifty bucks that says I’d be a better novice knitter than you’d be trying to survive an hour in the wilderness without a cup of coffee or your phone.”
He holds out his hand to shake on it. Is he flirting with her? She can’t tell. And she also can’t tell whether or not she wants him to be.
“You’re on. I’ll be using your fifty dollars to buy more yarn.”
“So we’re doing this,” he says, smiling.
“I guess we are.”
He asks for her phone number. And she gives it to him.
Chapter Fifteen
