I've lost my mojo.
What the fuck was wrong with me? Since when did I use the word mojo? No wonder I wasn't getting laid.
"I do remember something else Rowan said about you."
My gaze connected with hers. "What's that?"
"That you have a lot of patience."
There was another cock-deflating compliment. "Do I even want to know how that came up in conversation?"
Astrid blushed. "Look, I don't know you very well. And I spent time talking and Skyping with her, getting other parents' contact information. She said you'd be great with the kids. That not many guys would show the same patience with a thirty-year-old woman that you did with her six-year-old son."
That jarred me. Patience was a good thing?
She hadn't asked me to be patient with her.
But you have been.
"She doesn't look like she's thirty," Astrid said offhandedly.
"What's that have to do with anything?"
"Some guys have a problem dating older women."
"A, I'm twenty-eight so she's a whopping two years older than me. B, we're not dating. We're neighbors." Even if we were dating, her age wouldn't matter to me. That got me to thinking . . . our age difference didn't bother Rowan, did it?
"How does she take her coffee?"
"Black."
"What does she drink to relax?"
"Wine. Mostly Zin." It wasn't like there was twenty years' difference between us.
"What's her favorite TV show?"
"Dancing with the Stars."
"What kind of music does she listen to?"
"Country. Some hip-hop. Reggae. Weird old stuff." She and I would be a killer team for music trivia.
"Her favorite color?"
"Blue."
"Her favorite sports team?"
"It'd better be the damn Vikings since she cheers for us." I glanced up at Astrid and scowled. "What's with the twenty questions?"
"It was only six questions. And you didn't hesitate to answer any of them. So you're more than neighbors, boss."
We're more than friends too.
Although I hadn't even kissed Rowan, we had a connection I'd never felt with any of the women I'd fucked. Crude way to think of it, but I could accept that that was all it'd ever been.
"As her neighbor . . . do you water her plants?"
"She doesn't have any plants."
"Do you pet sit for her? Take care of her cat?"
My mind veered off the track and straight onto the smut town express. Oh hell yeah, I'd like to pet her pu-
"Do you borrow stuff from each other all the time?" Astrid asked.
"Like what? A cup of sugar?"
She belted out Maroon 5's "Sugar" in a truly impressive falsetto.
I laughed. "When the kids are here for camp? No more drinking on the job."
"Don't you have training to go to right now?" She held up her phone so I could see the time, and then she pointed to the door. "Go tackle practice dummies or something equally violent and let me do my job in peace."
I stood and said, "Peace out, yo," and left for the training complex.
• • •
Dante tortured me.
After our workout, I hurt in places I'd forgotten had muscles. Then he forced me into the cold-hot-cold-hot muscle therapy. I swam slow laps in the pool. Then I hit a hot shower. After that I lowered my aching body into an ice bath. Finally I ended up in the sauna. As I lumbered down the hallway to my apartment, I contemplated crawling in bed and calling it a week.
My phone rang and the caller ID read: ROWAN. I glanced at her apartment door. "Hey. I'm in the hallway about to walk into my apartment."
"Thank god. Look, I hate to ask you this-"
"Just ask."
"Coach T called an emergency meeting for the cheer team tonight, and neither Daisy nor Marsai is in town so I'm acting team captain. It starts in an hour. Alicia has to leave to go to her other job, so could you watch Calder until I get done?"
"Sure."
"Thank you! I'll call Alicia right now and tell her you'll be over-"
"Calder can come to my place. It's been a long day and I wanna veg on my own couch. Send a key with him so if he needs anything we can go over and grab it. I need about ten minutes."
"I'll let her know. Thank you!"
I changed clothes and checked out my fridge. My weekly meals weren't delivered until Monday so I had two entrées left. Crispy fried tofu with sugar snap peas, served with a side of kale, quinoa and beet salad. Tomorrow's dinner was shredded teriyaki turkey with cauliflower and broccoli, and a plain baked sweet potato. Neither of those meals would appeal to a six-year-old boy. Maybe it'd be better if we stayed at Rowan's place. She had a fully stocked pantry.