The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3) by Michael Richan

that a lot.”
    “You had Mr. Olsen?” she asked, then thought about what she’d
said: it meant she’d forgotten Warren was in that class with her. She instantly
felt awful, and tried not to let it show on her face, but was unsuccessful.
    “Yeah,” Warren replied. “I know… I wasn’t exactly memorable
in high school. Don’t feel bad.”
    “I remember that you lettered in track,” Deem said, trying to
redeem herself. “And you were a Sterling Scholar in math.”
    “Oh, so you do remember me?” Warren said, smiling.
    “I remember you,” Deem said. “You were always a solid, decent
guy.”
    Decent? she thought, trying not to cringe. No guy wants to hear that he’s
‘decent’. I’m screwing this up.
    “Thanks, I guess,” he replied.
    “No, I mean it,” she said. “So many people in high school
were awful. You were always one of the good people. That’s what I meant.”
    “Oh,” he replied. “Well, thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    God, this seems really awkward, she thought. Loosen up! She
reached for the menu and opened it. The waitress came by, but Warren told her
they’d need more time before they were ready to order, and she wandered off.
    “You don’t know what you want?” Deem asked him.
    “Oh, yeah, I do, but I saw you’d just started reading the
menu, so I figured you could use more time.”
    “I can answer for myself, Warren,” she said, still reading
the menu. “I don’t need you to speak to the waitress for me.”
    She glanced up and could see Warren was confused and a little
crestfallen. She started to speak to correct herself, thinking she might have
hurt his feelings, but then she remembered that she always hated herself when
she did that with boys, countering how she really felt just to make them feel
better, so she didn’t say anything.
    “I’m…” Warren started haltingly. “I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean…
I just… ”
    “It’s fine,” Deem said, smiling at him. “I’m not a delicate
little flower like most of the women around here, needing a man to talk for me
and give me permission to do things, or to open my door or pull out my chair. I’ve
got eyes and hands and a mouth. I can speak for myself and open my own doors.”
    Warren stared back at her with a huge look of concern.
    “Were you thinking I’d be a little miss molly Mormon date,
Warren? Your open mouth makes me think so.”
    “Well, I’ll admit I’ve never had a woman start a date like
this,” he replied, gathering his bearings. “I’m a little surprised, but then
again, I shouldn’t be. I know you’re not like most women around here.”
    “Does it bother you?”
    Warren smiled at her. “No, I find it rather arousing.”
    She was surprised at his reaction. Usually when she began to
press her opinions with guys, it quickly ended things. She decided to see if he
was genuine.
    “Haven’t known many return missionaries to mention ‘arousal’
on the first date,” she said. “You’re not like most men around here, either.”
    “Does that make us outcasts?” Warren asked. “Or just really,
really interesting and hot?”
    She laughed. OK, she thought. He survived that; this
might work.
    The conversation turned light and pleasant, moving from
history since high school to family and jobs.  Soon their food arrived and Deem
picked at her sandwich while Warren inhaled his within minutes.
    “Sorry,” he said. “I ate too fast. I apologize. I was
starving.”
    “The sandwiches are so big here,” Deem said. “I think I’ll
wind up taking half of mine home.”
    “What’ll you do with the rest of your day?” Warren asked.
“What do you like to do for fun?”
    “Well, I like to spend time outdoors,” she replied. “Hiking,
obviously.”
    “Me too. I’m lucky my job keeps me outside most of the time.”
    “If you’re off at one, how early do you start?”
    “5, when it’s still dark.”
    “That’s a long shift,” Deem said.
    “Not really. It’s eight hours. Then a