Page 17 of Lorcan
Aimee laughed. “Tough job. Elbowing other patrons who might try to horn in on our territory.” She waved.
Stella waved back.
The two women were contradictions. Aimee, the electrician, was tall, sturdy, and had heft. She hauled things around with ease.
In contrast, Stella was petite and delicate. She did much of the tile work and was a demon with the miter saw. She also had wispy blonde hair while Aimee’s riot of curls was a dark-brown mass of chaos.
“Look who I brought.” Aimee linked arms with me.
Stella grinned and patted the chair next to her.
Obediently, I sat.
Aimee took a chair across. She glanced at Stella. “How are you doing?”
Stella stuck out her bottom lip. “Glad the bitch is gone. Sad that I’m going to be alone at Christmas?”
“She didn’t deserve you.” Aimee passed me a menu from the pile. “Stella’s ex-girlfriend is a horrible person.”
“Hey.” Stella glared.
Aimee glared right back. “Isn’t she?”
“Well, yes. But only I should be saying that.” She grabbed a menu but didn’t open it.
“I’m just calling it like I see it. I tried to warn—”
“Do not sayI told you so.”
“—you, but you wouldn’t listen.” Aimee smirked. “I told you so.”
“Ouch.” I winced.
Stella nudged me with her elbow. “Watch out—Aimee’s eerily competent at calling relationships. She’s also matched two people on the crew. If you aren’t looking for someone, steer clear. Oh, unless you’re already involved.”
“My ex is…in the rearview mirror.”
Aimee’s light-brown eyes narrowed. “Do you need me to put a curse on him?”
“Excuse me?” My eyes widened.
Stella laughed. “She likes to think she can curse people. So don’t piss her off, either.”
I had no idea how to respond to that.
“But she means well.” Stella met my gaze with soft-blue eyes.
“Turns out he wasn’t a nice man.”
“Oh, then totally let Aimee put a hex on his dark soul. Now, are you drinking alcohol or not? They have this amazing nonalcoholic apple cider. This farmer in the valley makes it. So delicious. I always stock up at the Christmas market. What’s his name? Hey, Aimee, what’s the apple farmer’s name?”
“Johnson. His husband’s name is…” She snapped her fingers. “Henry. Great couple.” She turned her attention to me. “If you haven’t tried the cider, you absolutely have to.” She cocked her head. “And if you know anyone who might want a glass fairy figurine, Henry makes them and sells them at the Christmas market.” She yanked her phone from her back pocket. She tapped and scrolled and then handed the phone to me.
The most stunning glass figurine was featured. The delicate and intricate work was amazing. “Are these the trans colors?” I handed her the phone back.
She nodded. “His LBGTQ ones are the most popular by far. But he makes all kinds—including ones that are more suitable for boys. I mean, gender crap aside. Oh, here comes Thor.”
Automatically, I turned—expecting a tall blond with flowing locks of hair and stunning eyes.
