Pushing Up Posies

by Eve Langlais

  “She?” The word slipped out before Posie could stop it.

  “Yes, she. I assume you’ll meet her soon. She likes to stick her nose in everything. Just don’t let her redecorate the office if I’m not around. She is abnormally fond of pastel colors.”

  Her lips quirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Have dinner with me tonight,” he asked. “I know a place that makes excellent pasta.”

  “Um.” If she said no, he’d think she was rejecting him, but she honestly didn’t know if she could sit a few hours across from him and make conversation when she couldn’t stop thinking of—

  His expression smoldered suddenly. “On second thought, maybe we should eat in. I don’t know if I want to share you.”

  Those words melted her. Her hand shook slightly as she locked her door.

  He slid close. “Are you cold?” He placed an arm around her, tucking her into him, his cloak spreading over her and filling her with heat.

  “Brody…” Now was the time to tell him.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he softly murmured against the hair covering her ear.

  It sent a shiver through her. She turned in his arms. “I’ve been thinking of you too, but…”

  “But what?” he asked, moving close, leaning over her so she had to look up.

  “You and me. It’s inappropriate.” She huffed hotly, her heart pounding at how close his mouth hovered.

  “Not according to the handbook.”

  “I should quit.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t say no. This is wrong.”

  “We’ll make it work.”

  The intenseness of the conversation had her laughing nervously and turning from him. “Speaking of work, we should go, or we’ll be late.”

  “My car is waiting downstairs.”

  When she moved by rote to the elevator, his hand rested on the hollow of her back. Just a simple touch. It warmed her to her toes.

  He helped her into the car and slid in right after her rather than going around, forcing her to scoot. Not far, as he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers.

  “Didn’t we just talk about this being—”

  “Right? Because I thought we’d both ascertained last night that there is an undeniable spark between us.”

  What could she say? He spoke the truth. Arousal filled her every time she remembered his touch. She couldn’t admit she had pathetically hoped he’d come over. She’d hoped the throb would be gone this morning, and then she saw him.

  The spot between her legs pulsed.

  This would be longest day ever.

  “Something wrong?” he asked softly.

  How to explain that she wanted him to touch her?

  It was as if he read her mind. “Come here,” he growled as he pulled her into his lap. She gasped. He caught the sound with his lips, tugging them and sucking on the flesh. “I’ve been wanting to do this since you opened that door.”

  She couldn’t help but sigh in pleasure. Which led to more kissing and squirming. No mistaking his arousal. It pressed against her bottom, and for a fleeting, insane moment, she wished she’d worn a skirt. It would have been easy to straddle him and…what? Have sex with him in the car while being driven by someone she’d yet to meet?

  Did the driver watch? She froze.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She moved off of him, cheeks flushed. “We can’t do this here.”

  “Then where?” The car slowed, and Brody offered her a wink. “My office.”

  “Oh.” The thought just made the pulse between her legs worse. “That’s not a good idea. We can’t have sex while we’re working.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Because if you’re paying me, then that makes me a whore.”

  He blinked. “So I won’t pay you.”

  “Which doesn’t help my bills. Meaning the smarter move is no sex, because I need a paycheck to keep my electricity.”

  “How about we fine-tune that to no sex at the office? Then that would make us two consenting adults indulging in their free time.”

  A rule about sex. What was happening? Why was she behaving in such a manner?

  He dragged her in for a kiss, flustering her and reminding her why.

  Because he made her catch on fire.

  She pulled away breathless. “We’re late.”

  “I’m wishing we’d stayed home.” He looked as frustrated as she felt.

  Perhaps she should have stuck to her guns and quit. This would be the longest day ever.

  Entering the building, she felt as if everyone watched them, and her cheeks turned hot. What would they think of her if they knew what had happened? Then again, how would anyone know? Unless the driver told.

  No one said anything, and the moment she entered her sanctum she let out a breath that had him chuckling.

  “Why so nervous?”

  “I don’t want your staff judging me. Us.”

  “Is there an us?” He drew her close.

  “I guess we’ll find out.” After work. When she was off the clock.

  They separated as the door opened. Julio entered, his lips tilted in a knowing grin. “So, how’s it going?”

  “Fine.”

  “Just fine? Don’t let Brody hear you.” He winked.

  She wanted to hide.

  The subtle, and not so subtle, hinting happened all day long and was compounded by Medusa’s scowl, which wasn’t to say she was typically nice. She was just nastier today than usual. Or did she imagine it?

  How could everyone know about her and Brody? Was he bragging to everyone?

  If she’d worried that Brody might try and advance their relationship at work, she shouldn’t have. Once they were inside the office, he’d remained courteous. Flirty and smiling when they were alone but the epitome of professional when they weren’t.

  She’d have wondered if she’d imagined the passion of that morning if every now and then she didn’t catch a glimpse of him staring at her hungrily.

  Longest day ever.

  The flowers arrived midafternoon. A bouquet of white roses with a note.

  Have dinner with me.

  Hadn’t she already said yes?

  She knocked sharply on Brody’s office door.

  “Enter.”

  She walked in waving the card. “Yes, I’ll have dinner with you. Thanks for the flowers.”

  “What flowers?” he asked.

  “The bouquet that arrived,” she said, only to realize by his expression he truly knew nothing about it.

  “I wish I had sent you flowers. Who are they from?” He bristled as he came around her desk. Angry because someone sent her flowers?

  It seemed impossible. She’d never inspired jealousy before.

  “I don’t know.” She turned the card over and saw it was embossed with wings.

  “Fucking Raphael,” he growled.

  The name arched her brows. “The guy from the sidewalk?”

  “Yeah, him.”

  “That was nice of him to send flowers.” Not really, but she was strangely fascinated by Brody’s reaction.

  “You will not encourage him.”

  She blinked. “Excuse me? Are you telling me what I can do?” Not cool and yet hot all at once.

  “No. Yes. Maybe.” He ran a hand through his hair. His agitated pacing caused his cloak to swirl. “I don’t want you to see him.”

  “I’d say that’s my choice.”

  “I thought we were dating.”

  “I don’t know what we are, but even if we were, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  “Think of it as me warning you then. Raphael isn’t being honest.”

  “What does dinner have to do with honesty?”

  “He’s only asking you out because I’m interested in you.”

  “That seems like an egocentric theory, given you only declared your interest after I met Raphael.” Her eyes widened. “Wait. Is that the o
nly reason you seduced me?”

  “I did it because I want you.”

  “Do you? Or is it because seeing another man show interest in me bothers you?”

  “Of course, it bothers me,” he barked. “I don’t want anyone touching you but me.”

  A hot declaration and yet now she had to wonder. Did he like her, or was he trying to take her away from someone else? What would happen if Raphael stopped showing interest? Would he move on? “I don’t think we should see each other after work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not some quick and easy conquest. Some notch in an ego contest you have going with your rival.” She lifted her chin. “I also resign.”

  “Posie…”

  She shook her head. “No. This was a bad idea. I should have never come in this morning. We can’t work together.” Head held high, she marched out of his office. Right out of the building. And back to her apartment where she had a good sob. Then some ice cream, because sugar fixed everything.

  He didn’t call.

  Or knock.

  Because he didn’t care.

  Which took bacon to feel somewhat better about.

  That afternoon she got a friendship request on social media from—guess who—Raphael Angellus. Stalking her again.

  She ignored it.

  Ding.

  He sent a private message.

  She thought about deleting it unread. Even had her finger over the button to click when she read the first line. There’s something you need to know about Brody Reaper. He’s—

  The message cut off, meaning she’d have to open it to read the rest. Did she care?

  Click.

  It loaded, and as she read the whole missive, she gaped. Read it again. Snorted. Then got mad.

  This was taking things too far.

  And despite knowing the stupidity in confronting Brody while high on sugar and dumb due to brain freeze, when she heard his door lock beeping, she whipped open hers as fast as she could and snapped, “Did you actually make a wager over who would get in my pants first?”

  16

  He’d wondered all day what he could do to fix things with Posie. Now there she was, madder than before, and somehow aware of the wager with Heaven. Blaming him for it. Her soul seethed. He had to fix this.

  “It wasn’t my idea.”

  Her eyes widened. “But you knew about it. This wasn’t just some rivalry thing for you. You actually made a bet!”

  “Not me! My boss did.”

  “The woman you met with last night?”

  “Not her, my other boss. The big boss.”

  “Why the heck is anyone making a wager that involves me? And one that involves sex? That is so disgusting.”

  “It wasn’t about sex.”

  “But it did have to do with seducing me, and like a good employee, you went right to it.”

  “I will have you know I seduced you before the wager was made.” His lame defense.

  “And that’s supposed to make it all right?” She came into his space, livid, her body bristling. She’d never been more beautiful.

  Never more deadly.

  A reaper didn’t usually feel any pain. He’d already lived and died. While his body could be damaged, it didn’t happen often, given he used the magic of his cloak to dissipate before painful contact. However, he had no protection for his emotions. In a short span, this woman had managed to worm her way into his life, his mind, and his long-dead heart.

  But this wasn’t just about him. Her feelings mattered to him. And right now, she was hurt and hated him. He had to fix this somehow. “There’s things you don’t know. Things about me and Raphael, even the company, that I can’t tell you.”

  She arched a brow.

  He amended, “I shouldn’t tell you, mostly because I doubt you’ll believe me.”

  “Why don’t you try?”

  “I know you see us as we are. And before you say anything, we’re not cosplayers. At least most of us aren’t. I’m real. So are the reapers at Grim Dating. Our clients. Even the angels.”

  Her scowl deepened. “This isn’t funny. Don’t you make this about your delusion.”

  “It’s not a delusion. Heaven and Hell are real. That’s where I’m from. Hell, that is. Sixth ring. I was commander of the Canadian Reaper Guild until my new assignment.”

  “As a matchmaker?” She snorted. “You couldn’t even sell this concept if you tried. It’s completely unbelievable.”

  “What will it take to convince you that we are real? That what your parents and those doctors taught you was wrong. They couldn’t see what you do. You, and only you, see past the magic.”

  “What do you know of my parents?” Her nostrils flared.

  “That they didn’t understand just how special you are.”

  “Seeing things made me special all right.” Her lips turned down. “And I thought I was cured. I hadn’t seen anything until I went to see that psychic. Then I was a kid all over again, telling my parents about the gargoyle walking down the street. They made me apologize and sent me for sensitivity and cultural training.” Because apparently what she saw was a racist projection.

  “You’re not crazy.”

  “Because you’re real?”

  “We’re not actors playing dress-up.”

  “Then prove it.”

  “How?”

  “Take someone’s soul. Right now. Yank out your knife, scythe, whatever, and reap a ghost.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Because you’re not real.”

  “No, I can’t because a reaper can only take souls he’s been assigned.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “How about I show you something else.”

  “You said you come from Hell. Show me.”

  “I can’t. Only the dead and demonic can cross the planes. Humans are forbidden.”

  “A likely excuse.”

  He grabbed her close. “It is the truth, much as my Dark Lord hates it when I use it.”

  “You can’t show me because it’s not real,” she exclaimed. “None of you are real.” She put hands to her heads and closed her eyes. “I’m sick.”

  It roused anger in him and compassion. Time to free her that she might finally know the truth. “Posie, my prickly flower,” he purred. “Look at me. Look upon the reaper of souls. The final thing seen before judgment.

  As she faced him, her cheeks stained in tears, he let his cloak swirl, losing the leash he had on it. The agitation coursing through him rippled the esoteric fabric, showing her his deadly glory. Scythe and all.

  And still she didn’t believe.

  So he clutched her close and took her into the other place. The place of nothingness. And as she gazed into the space between the realms, she gasped. Then went still as he offered her the briefest glimpse of Hell. A quick in and out. Enough to smell the burning ash and feel the heat.

  They reappeared in his living room.

  Features frozen, she said stiffly, “Did I eat something? Magical mushrooms? Acid?”

  “No.”

  She eyed him. “You really are Death?”

  “Not quite. I’m a reaper. I take souls to their next destination.”

  “I see.” For a moment she said nothing, and he wondered at her thoughts. “Is the dating thing a front for the fact you’re here doing your job?”

  “No, we’re not reaping anymore. We truly are matchmakers. Facilitating relations between humans and those from Hell.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the Devil wants to rebuild his army.”

  That caused her to blink. “You’re helping the Devil?”

  He shrugged. “Hell isn’t what you think.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “It’s similar to this world, but without some of the veneer and more rules. The Devil likes his rules.”

  “I thought he was about anarchy and everything.”

  “That, too. Rules b
ring about rule breaking, which is sinning.”

  “Sin without causing too much harm, he’ll turn a blind eye. Start causing havoc that takes him away from his other activities…”

  “And the Devil comes down like a hammer.”

  “You know him personally?”

  “He’s my boss, but I don’t see him too often.”

  “Have I ever met him?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes and no. He was in the elevator with us not long ago, but I don’t think you could see him.”

  “Probably a good thing,” she muttered. “If you’re real, and everyone I’ve met at work is too, then those angels…” She gnawed her lower lip. Had she really insulted God’s soldiers? Ouch.

  “Raphael and Jericho are archangels working at the highest level in Heaven.”

  “There really is a God?”

  “Actually, that’s complicated right now. His son is kind of in charge while his dad is in jail, but he’s not calling himself anything yet.”

  “Jesus mutinied against his father?”

  “Like I said, complicated.”

  “Are all angels as rude as them?”

  “The way they treated you is standard because, in their minds, humans are beneath them.”

  “Making them snobs. But if they hate us, then does anyone go to Heaven?”

  “Only those pure of spirit.”

  “Well shit,” she muttered. She flopped onto his couch. “This is quite a bit much to take in.”

  He sat beside her. “You are overwhelmed right now. You’ll quickly adjust. I did. It was past time you knew the truth.”

  “It was easier when I assumed you were all crazy cosplayers.”

  “Why?”

  She offered a wan smile. “Because you’re a reaper, and I’m just me.”

  “I like you.”

  “Because of a wager.”

  “Fuck the wager. I don’t give a shit who wins it.”

  “What are Heaven and Hell playing for?”

  “Grim Dating’s existence.”

  “Meaning if you lose and they win, everyone is out of a job. No pressure then.”

  “I won’t take advantage of you. I don’t care what Lucifer says.”

  She snorted. “Because you are pals with the Devil.”

  “Don’t even suggest it,” he replied with a shudder.

  “What’s he like?” she asked. “Is he like Hellboy, all big and hulking and red, killing everyone?”