ya are. They’ll pick a fight just to see what she can do. I’ll tell ye what, too, we’d better hope she’s a helluva lot better at the magic than she is now. She’s mostly useless right now.”
“Thanks,” I said sourly, shifting the screen away from them as I clicked into an online dating app for (non-magical) mature singletons that was supposed to be best for thirty-three and up. How they’d landed on thirty-three, I had no idea, but I figured that since my magic made me a target, it was best to start with someone more my speed, hence the non-magical.
On the one hand, I wasn’t sure I wanted to head into the stormy waters of dating. I liked being on my own for the first time, able to come and go as I pleased without having to answer to anyone other than an old butler who just wanted to make my life easier and make me snacks. Becoming a giant starfish across the bed was a rare treat after sharing with someone for half my life. It felt pretty great, actually.
But the need for intimacy gnawed at me. Toward the end of my marriage, my libido had started ramping up, but Matt’s version of foreplay had been moving into position and going for it. By the time I was warming up, he was ready to go to sleep. It was more frustrating than gratifying, and I didn’t really have anyone to vent to—it was something people my age didn’t seem to talk about. At least not women.
Part of the problem had been me, of course. I hadn’t demanded he try a little harder or learn the things that would have worked better. Resentment had kicked in, and sex had become the equivalent of one more chore at the end of the day. One more thing that pleased him and not me so much.
I wanted to change that so badly. I wanted my fresh start to be inclusive of physical intimacy again. I used to love it. I loved kissing and making out, holding hands and taking walks. I loved love—at least the idea of love. I wanted to experience that again. I wanted to experience the rush of falling headfirst, and the anxious but not unpleasant fear of the floor dropping out from under me.
I just needed to find someone to do that with. Super easy, of course, given I hadn’t dated in a dog’s age, didn’t know how to flirt without being awkward or creepy, and didn’t have the first clue how to meet someone in the wild. Like, did you just walk up to a rando and start a conversation? That wouldn’t go well for me. Small talk was my nemesis. Did you give come hither eyes and wait to see if they did? How was I supposed to manage that without giving a deranged serial-killer vibe?
All unknowns. I’d decided to get my feet wet with online dating. I’d be taking the plunge for the first time later tonight.
Maybe I should’ve jumped earlier. My inevitable injuries would have given me an excuse to cancel.
“I wonder if there is an adult bookstore in this town,” I mused, because the only way I was likely to get some action was if it was from myself.
All conversation stopped.
My face instantly heated and I slammed my laptop closed out of pure embarrassment. Liking some boom-boom time was one thing, but broadcasting what I planned to do if it was not readily available was a different thing entirely.
“I mean… What I meant was…” I stammered.
“First things first, Jessie—we need to square away business,” Niamh said, completely unperturbed. Edgar’s wide eyes said he was not so blasé about the whole thing. “After that, we’ll get ye enough bells and whistles to have ye singin’ the Lord’s name. Ye won’t want to come out’ve that room for a week, so you won’t.”
“That’s… No. What I’d meant to say was—”
“Austin is practically beside himself with preparing for whoever might come calling,” Niamh went on. “That poor fella is actin’ like he’ll be the only one defending this town against ’em. We need backup we can trust.”
“How do we know we can trust them?” I asked, face still blazing like a furnace as I pretended to be as mature as my age.
Niamh gave me a long look. “That’s your department. The house will help, I believe…”
“Yes.” Edgar entwined his fingers as he neared the table. Surely the gesture was meant to keep him from scratching