Caged by Amber Lynn Natusch Read Free Book Online Page A

time?”
    If the shoe fits…
    “Is there a polite way to answer ‘yes’ to such a question?” I asked as I giggled nervously. I thought I was hilarious, but Sean didn’t seem to subscribe to that brand of humor; a lesson I’d learned over the previous few months.
    Something else to work on.
    He scowled at me, but chose not to continue the conversation in its current direction.
    “I was thinking more along the lines of trolling around the city, going to the park, museums, galleries, dinner, dancing, whatever you want to do.”
    “So let me get this straight. You are going to drive me into the city, do whatever I want to do, go wherever I want to go, eat whatever I want to eat, and dance? I thought you didn’t dance? And who, exactly, is going to pay for this excursion?” I asked in my attempt to clarify both itinerary and intent.
    “I will drive you into the city to do whatever, go wherever, and eat whatever you want. I don’t dance and this weekend will be no exception to the rule. And I thought it was customary for a man to pay for a lady?” he said as though this should have all been very obvious.
    “So it’s a date?” I asked. I didn’t do dates. I had never had luck dating in the past and did not want to revive that part of my life just because I gained visual input. Being able to see made the whole situation even more confusing than it was before. There were fewer options to weigh then.
    He started to chuckle. That chuckle slowly became laughter, which then escalated quickly into a deep rumbling hysteria. Apparently, I once again didn’t see the comedic value in what he’d said. In fact, I became more incensed as his shenanigans continued, as if my observation about it being a date was so off-base. He couldn’t have been trying to take me out?
    Asshole.
    “If you’re quite done assaulting my self-esteem now, it would be awesome if you’d just give me a definite verbal answer. Apparently, in your pristine upbringing you weren’t taught that laughing at someone could be construed as extremely rude, and quite frankly, a dickhead move,” I shot at him. I felt tears threatening to well up in my eyes. I was used to having the occasional insult thrown my way while growing up, but this was different. It was never by someone I liked.
    He seemed to pick up on my distress, as if that took a massive IQ.
    “No, Ruby. It is most certainly not a date,” he said.
    Good to know.
    “I think you could have made that point clear without the theatrics. Next time it would be really super if you could refrain from undoing years of therapy in the process,” I choked out, turning quickly away from him for fear that my eyes would betray me.
    When I was certain I had myself composed, I turned back to see that his face went from amused, to serious, then to grim. His forehead actually furrowed and his eyebrows were in danger of swallowing up his eyes.
    “I did not intend to hurt your feelings. It just struck me as funny. It’s sort of an inside joke with my friends. You wouldn’t get it. It’s not really you that makes it funny,” he said.
    “Well, since I don’t see your friends here, there isn’t really an inside joke to be had,” I stated. “Don’t ever do that again.”
    With that, I turned and stormed out of the shop to the back room and slammed the door. I banged some things around like a five-year-old having a moderate tantrum until I felt better. I grabbed a necklace I’d been working on and started tinkering on it without real purpose. In my mindless futzing I realized that I never actually agreed to go, so I pondered for a few moments whether or not I still wanted to. That really was a dickhead thing to do to me . However, after some thought, I decided to give him a second chance. We were making progress on the normalcy front, and I did need to learn not to let my sensitivity about my past get in the way of a potentially fun weekend in my immediate future.
    I went back into the shop to tell him, but