Magical Midlife Dating - K.F. Breene Page 0,16

honest with myself. The fictional jerks I was imagining weren’t the problem. I was the only one holding me back. So people might think I was too old to have some style—so what? I didn’t give two craps what people thought about me when I dressed like some sort of swamp monster. Why should I hesitate to wear the equivalent of a sexy disco ball?

I shouldn’t, that was the bottom line. I shouldn’t let the Garys of the world push me down or treat me badly, and I shouldn’t cave to people’s expectations of women my age. Distinguished with a side of crazy fabulous, here I came!

When I worked up the confidence, that was. Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all.

Finished up, I exited the stall to find the same women who’d let me in front of them. One of them, now the next in line, gave me a tight smile and passed me into the stall. The other waited for whoever was taking their time in the occupied stall.

Had they let me go first because they feared (somewhat correctly) that middle-aged women couldn’t hold their bladders? Except one of them was at least as old as I was.

Confusion growing, I washed my hands and made my way out. Gazes found me as I re-entered the pool room, which had essentially become a waiting room. Almost immediately, the gazes zipped away again.

The burly guy from the bar was leaned up against the wall on the opposite side of the opening.

“Do you know if the…Dick—the non-magical guy—left?” I whispered.

“Dick can be used in a couple ways with that guy. How the hell did you find him? He was a real gem.”

“Clearly I am too gullible when it comes to online dating.”

“Ah. Yeah, that explains it. Online dating can be a nightmare, I hear. The undesirables can hide their little peccadilloes until they get you in person.” The burly guy stepped sideways, to the very edge of the doorframe, before curving around and looking through. “All clear.” He gave me a thumbs-up. “Guess I don’t need to go borrow a shovel from my neighbor.”

I grinned as I sighed. This town did like to joke about unmarked graves.

“Cool.” I looked around the room. No one moved. “What’s everyone waiting for, then? Does Austin need a cooling-off period or something?”

The guy studied his shoes. “Don’t expect so. He’s pretty clean about taking out the trash. Austin Steele takes care of this stuff all the time.”

“Right.” I nodded, chewing my lip. “Sooo…”

“Jessie, wine’s getting old,” Niamh hollered from within. “It’s turning to sludge before me eyes.”

“Vinegar,” Austin said.

“Sludge, vinegar, whatever. Would ye come on, Jessie? You must be chokin’. Come and get a drink.”

I hooked a thumbs-up at the burly guy, which he probably didn’t see, given he’d returned to studying his shoes, contorted my face in an expression that would have loudly declared my social awkwardness had anyone been looking, and returned to my stool.

Austin waited in front of a thankfully empty seat devoid of a gin and tonic and a guy I hoped to never see again. My wine sat where I’d left it, as did all the abandoned drinks from the people in the pool room.

“Austin, I have to hand it to you,” I said as I hovered behind my stool. “You can really clear a room. You might give them the all-clear, though. They’re just waiting in the other room, not drinking.”

“Here. Jessie, sit next to me. Logan can move.” Niamh pushed the burly guy’s drink away.

“Oh no, I’ll just—”

“It’ll be grand,” Niamh said. “He won’t mind.”

Austin studied me as he switched the positions of my glass and Logan’s beer, again without looking.

“It’s not my all-clear to give,” Austin finally said as Niamh gulped down some cider.

I lifted my eyebrows as I switched seats. “Why? Does this fall on me because I invited Gary here? I said I was sorry when I went in the other room, but the guy—Logan—gave me a weird response.” When they both stayed silent, I put up my hands. “I’m going to be honest, I’m lost. Did I cross a line by inviting a Dick here? Because I figured anyone was allowed in, and I just wanted—”

“You need to allow everyone back in the room,” Austin said in a low, even voice.

“After that,” Niamh said, “let’s chat about exactly how utter shite you are about choosing dates online, because I have to hand it to ye—”

Austin held up his hand, and Niamh’s mouth clicked shut,

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