“In sci-fi-fantasy. Leni’s turning him into a nerd,” Jo said. They shared a laugh even as guilt pricked at her. “Do you want me to take him home? I didn’t mean to give you one more thing to worry about tonight.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t mind. I’ve barely spoken to him tonight.” His brow furrowed, and he cocked his head at her. “How did you even get him here? Only family can sign residents out.”
“Ah, ah—not just family,” Jo said, shaking her finger at him. “It’s anyone designated by the resident.”
“Which is me. And my parents, who, as far as I know, are in Barcelona.”
“And me. Tito added me last week.”
“Last…” He put his fists on his hips like a stern parent. “And neither of you thought to mention that at brunch on Sunday?”
“We wanted to surprise you?” Jo spread her hands helplessly as Felix unleashed a dramatic sigh. “It was Tito’s idea!”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I never should have introduced the two of you. You’re both menaces to society.”
She braced her forearms on the desk and leaned forward. “Yeah. But you love us.”
“Yes, I do.” Felix mirrored her, hands flat on his side of the desk, torso pitched toward her. Jo recognized the look in his eyes and flicked her gaze toward the camera above the desk. He frowned and leaned back. “How about I come over tomorrow night, cariño mío?”
“Tomorrow it is. I’ll make us dinner to celebrate tonight’s success. Which I made possible.” It wasn’t anything like the heartfelt “thank you” she’d planned to give him earlier, but he looked pleased to hear her take credit anyway.
“Sounds perfect,” he said. “Now where’s that old man? Tito! Library’s closed!”
“Sorry!” Leni called back. “We’re coming.”
She entered the lobby a minute later, Tito on one arm and a stack of urban fantasy under the other.
23
After work the next day, Felix knocked on Jo’s door and was greeted by a string of curse words.
“Hang on!” she yelled. “Shit-damn-it-fuck.”
“Take your time!” he responded with a laugh. When she wrenched the door open, a tantalizing aroma of garlic, onion, and roasted chicken hit him square in the face. His mouth watered.
Jo was pink-cheeked, barefoot, and wearing a lavender tank top and cobalt blue scrub pants. Her hair was pulled back in a loose knot, the baby hairs around her forehead sticking up. She was devastatingly adorable.
She didn’t move from the doorway. “Can you go get me a quart of milk? Mine boiled over.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Whole milk, please. Door’ll be unlocked.”
With that, the door closed in his face, and Felix fell a little bit more in love with Jo. “Text me if you need anything else,” he called, then he traipsed down the stairs along the wall of her building.
Smiling to himself the entire time, he picked up some milk at the nearest store and soon returned to her apartment. He knocked again as he let himself in, holding up the milk in triumph. Jo whirled around from her spot at the stove, gratitude evident on her face.
“Have we done the ‘hero’s calling’ joke to death yet?” he asked. “Or may I still say it?”
“You saved dinner,” she said. She took the carton and popped up on her toes to peck his cheek. “You can make any joke you want.”
“It smells wonderful,” he said as she poured milk into a measuring cup next to the stove. “How can I help?”
Jo laughed—a sarcastic “ha!”—and plopped a hunk of butter into a wide pan. “Gorgeous, do you see the size of this kitchen? It barely holds one person. You can keep Merry company.” She waved vaguely in the direction of the couch, where Merry was stretched out on his favorite orange blanket. “It’ll just be a few more minutes. The sauce comes together fast as long as I don’t get ambitious and heat the milk on the stove first.”
Felix rolled up his sleeves as he joined Merry on the couch. The cat stirred and glared at him, tail flicking. Felix apologized for the disruption. He caught Jo grinning at them as she stuck the milk carton in the fridge. Merry’s eyes drifted closed again, the feline equivalent of forgiveness. Felix scritched him behind the ears until he purred.
True to her word, Jo had dinner on the table in short order: pasta primavera with chicken in a creamy, garlicky sauce; toasted focaccia drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar; spinach salad; and Felix’s favorite pinot grigio. Felix also spotted a tray of fresh brownies on the kitchen counter. He busied himself with opening the wine and pouring them each a glass while Jo dished up pasta and salad.
“Here’s to the successful launch of Monsters and Mythology night,” Felix said, raising his glass. “And to the amazing people who made it happen.”
“Cheers,” Jo said and clinked her glass against his.
They sipped their wine and dug into the exceptional food. Felix groaned at the first bite, making Jo giggle and blush. They talked about her day, including her lunch break with Vanessa. Apparently, her co-worker couldn’t stop talking about how much fun she’d had at Leni’s table. Felix had been pretty focused on his own game, but he hadn’t been able to ignore the other group’s raucous laughter that frequently drowned him out. He wasn’t that kind of GM; he didn’t inspire such reactions from his players that way Jo and Leni did. He’d even caught a couple of people glancing over at Leni’s table enviously when that laughter erupted over and over again. Disappointing patrons like that really bothered him, but luckily, he wouldn’t have to worry about it for much longer.
“How was your meeting with Warren?” Jo asked as she refilled their wine.
“It went great,” he replied. “He’s convinced that MnM night will be the perfect talking point when he speaks to the county’s budget committee in September. He invited me to join him at that meeting.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jo interjected. “That reminds me. Vanessa said she took some pictures last night. Can I have her email them to you? For the newsletter or the committee or whatever?”
“Absolutely. That’s brilliant,” Felix said, helping himself to more salad. “Warren also wants to expand to two nights a week instead of one.”
Jo grimaced. Not the reaction he expected. “I wouldn’t do that. You’ll just split the attendance. And if the games don’t look well-attended, fewer and fewer people will keep showing up. You need to—” She cut herself off and shrank back. “Sorry, you didn’t ask what I thought.”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze, but the apprehension he could read on her face twisted his stomach. Don’t do this to me, Jo.
