Chapter Nine
Most of the people who stayed for coffee hour had gone and most of the members who lingered were on the hostess committee. He always stayed to help clean up, and he noticed that Plum had been pressed into service at the dish sink next to Cloris Symes.
That could either be perfect because Mrs. Symes was entertaining and sharp, or it could be disastrous if she felt compelled to ask Plum if she were fertile or some other ridiculously intrusive question. It could go either way, but she and Plum seemed to be having a lively conversation while Plum washed and Mrs. Symes sat on her walker and dried.
Gideon tried not to imagine Plum here every Sunday, getting to know the members, maybe finding some other way to engage with his congregants. He was pretty sure bible study wouldn’t be her thing, but the girls from the youth group would love her. Or perhaps she could sing and would like to be in the choir. Would she have a sweet, high soprano or a smoky alto? Perhaps even a lush and grounding tenor…
Or perhaps she would decide organized religion was a crock of shit she didn’t want any part of. Which would be fine because everyone was entitled to their own spiritual life but while he was flexible about such things—too flexible according to some members of his seminary, diocese, and congregation—he couldn’t imagine building a life with a person who refused to be a part of the community so much of his life revolved around.
He gathered the trash bags from each bin and hauled them outside to the dumpster—anyone who thought church life was always dignified and refined was doing it wrong. When he’d dumped the last load of recycling into the large rubber bin beside it, he turned to find Plum.
“I’ve been dismissed,” she joked. “Although Mrs. Symes did find my dishwashing to be acceptable. Probably from all the practice I’ve had at the café.”
Gideon groaned and resisted the urge to facepalm. “Yes, I’m sure helping out here was a delight for you given this is what you do at your own job. I apologize that you got roped into this. I can—”
But Plum shook her head.
“Bobby who works in the back at Caffeinatrix is not nearly as entertaining a conversationalist as Mrs. Symes. It was fine. Really.”
She swallowed then, and seemed not to know what to do with her hands. “But I guess I should be going now…”
That green eyed gaze pinned him with a question:Do you want me to go? Have I passed whatever sort of test that was? What’s next?
“Of course if you need to get back for social or work obligations…”
Lovely girl shook her head again and his breath caught in his throat.
He leaned down close to her, his lips a breath away from her ear and murmured into the soft pink shell, “You were mostly well-behaved. You can come with me to the rectory if you choose to accept your punishment, and claim your reward.”
* * *
Once he’d ushered her inside the rectory, Gideon hung up his coat then stretched out a hand to take Plum’s cloak which she unbuttoned and handed over.
With a hand at the small of her back, he led her through the sitting room to the small kitchen where he washed his hands and tried to recall how this was supposed to go. It had been a while since he’d been on anything resembling a date. He’d almost exclusively played at Hive to get his kicks and his other social engagements had been about friendship or professional matters, not anything verging on romantic or sexual or kinky and this was—if he was very lucky—all three.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you. I’m pretty full from the coffee and donuts.”
Right. Well. His brow furrowed and he leaned against the clean but worn formica countertop as he looked at the ridiculously gorgeous woman he now had in his kitchen. She sat perched on one of the old chairs that bracketed the small table and looked impossibly fresh and glamorous.
It wasn’t as though things had always come easily to him because they hadn’t, but things with women at Hive were relatively straightforward and this was anything but. He’d hate to lose his chance with Plum because he’d behaved inappropriately, but he’d also hate to lose her with dithering. But any woman who didn’t appreciate someone thoughtful and analytical and cautious probably wouldn’t care for him in the long run anyhow and that’s what he was going for here. No pressure.
“I feel as though we ought to have a conversation. Like I’ve gone about this all wrong. For that, I apologize.”
Plum blinked and tipped her head like a curious bird. “What did you do wrong?”
“I have some particular tastes and it can be difficult to know whether to put the cart before the horse.”
She smiled, the corner of her mouth curling up as her brow arched. “You mean whether you start to date someone and then figure out if they’re kinky or try to only meet kinky people and then find someone you like from that pool?”
The bald way she said it shocked and thrilled him in equal measure. Plum Brolingtide wasn’t a shrinking violet by any means but outside the club, he’d never heard people speak so candidly. “Yes, exactly. So am I to understand that you’re…”
He trailed off, not being able to say it even as Plum had just now.
“Kinky? Um, yeah. As a cheap garden hose.”
“Do you ever play at clubs?”