So I Married A Demon Slayer

by Love, Kathy; Fox, Angie; George, Lexi

  Just another moment’s hesitation, then he turned to head down the sidewalk. A sudden, almost panicked feeling tightened her chest, making her breathing shallow.

  She couldn’t just let this man walk away. Something intense and deep told her she had to hang on to him, even for just a moment.

  “Wait!”

  He spun back to face her, his eyebrows cocked in surprise and question.

  “Would you like to go get a drink with me?”

  Chapter Five

  Charlie blinked. Had Ava Wells just asked him to go get a drink? He had to have heard wrong, but he was damned if he was going to ruin his fantasy and ask her to repeat herself.

  “I—Yes, sure I would love to get a drink with you.”

  She smiled, confirming he must have heard her correctly. Her expression was lovely, although he noticed a strain around her mouth. A tightness that made the curve of her lips appear almost brittle.

  She joined him, starting down the sidewalk. He fell into step beside her.

  After a moment, Ava glanced at him. “Do you know a bar we can go to?”

  Charlie couldn’t stop the smile that curled his lips. She’d asked him out, but didn’t have a bar in mind. She shot him a sidelong glance when he didn’t answer, and he realized her eyes looked different in person than they did in photos. They were wider now, rather than almond-shaped and sultry. And at this moment, she looked almost innocent, like a wide-eyed babe rather than an exotic, sexy supermodel. Not that she wasn’t still stunningly beautiful. More so, if you asked him.

  “I know a place on 8th Street, but I’m sure it’s not your usual type of hangout. It’s just kind of a local dive bar.”

  Her chin bobbed up and down even before he finished. “That sounds perfect.”

  She can’t possibly think this is perfect, he thought as they stepped into the narrow, dim bar. The old, uneven wood floor shifted slightly under their feet, and they could probably hear it creaking if Patsy Cline wasn’t crooning from an ancient jukebox in the corner.

  Charlie came to Dino’s maybe once a week—more lately—since the bar was just a block from his apartment. Joey, Dino’s son and the bar’s nighttime bartender, nodded to him as Charlie ushered Ava toward the back where there were more private booths. He suspected Ava wouldn’t want to be recognized here. And while Charlie wasn’t sure whether Joey knew he had a celebrity in his bar, the appreciation in his dark eyes definitely said he noticed her all right.

  As they sat down, Ava confirmed his decision about going with privacy. She pulled a hair band out of her small shoulder bag and caught up her thick mahogany hair, tugging it back into a ponytail. Hardly a whopping disguise, but the casual hairstyle did enhance the softer, younger quality he’d noticed as they were walking.

  He frowned, again struck that her face seemed altogether different than in her photos. Her cheeks seemed fuller, not as if she’d gained weight, but as if she had a healthy, feminine softness that wasn’t normally caught in her photos. Her shots always flaunted angular cheekbones and a cut jawline. Both of which were her signature style.

  Of course, he certainly knew better than anyone the tricks of the photography world. Makeup, lighting, lense effects, airbrushing.

  But sitting across the table, Ava looked almost like a totally different person from the famed supermodel. Not that Charlie found that a bad thing. The Ava sitting across the crumby table from him was real. Not some image on a magazine page. He found her gorgeous.

  Joey joined them, tearing Charlie away from his speculations. The bartender placed two laminated, single-page menus in front of them.

  “The usual?” he asked Charlie. Charlie nodded and thanked him. “And for you, lovely lady?”

  Ava didn’t react to Joey’s easy compliment—no smile, no batting her eyes. Instead she looked at Charlie as if that was easier somehow.

  “A double shot of whiskey. Straight up.”

  Charlie supposed he shouldn’t be shocked by her drink request, since he didn’t know her, but he was. Even more surprised than by the binge-eating episode.

  Joey gave a low whistle. “I like a woman who doesn’t mess around.”

  Again Ava didn’t acknowledge the bartender. She continued to stare at Charlie. After Joey walked away, she dropped her gaze, picking up one of the worn, smudged menus.

  What was going on here? Charlie had figured the binge-eating thing was just a reaction to her fight with Finola. He still did. But there was something more happening—he could sense it. He’d sensed it back at Finola’s office when he’d seen the sadness in her eyes.

  “Would you like to talk about it?” he finally asked, deciding maybe that was his best bet. Sitting here speculating about what was wrong was pointless.

  Ava’s head shot up, staring at him with those wide, far too innocent eyes. Something flashed through them, hesitation, mistrust, maybe fear. He wasn’t sure.

  Joey returned, placing her whiskey in front of her and a lager in front of him.

  As soon as the bartender left, Ava picked up her glass and took a deep swig; then her lovely face crumpled as she smothered a gag with the back of her hand. She shuddered, setting the glass down a little too hard. Tears glittered in her eyes.

  Charlie smiled sympathetically. Well, he’d been right.

  “Not your usual drink, huh?”

  She shook her head. “No.” She shuddered again, but to his surprise lifted the liquor back to her full, rosy lips. This time she took a smaller sip and managed to keep most of the disgust off her face.

  He sipped his own beer, fascinated by watching her, wondering how he’d got here. What was going on with this woman? And why was she hanging out with him?

  Once her glass was empty, he tried again. “Is the whiskey helping?”

  She considered the question for a moment, her nose wrinkled like a small child debating a difficult problem, then shook her head. “Not really.”

  He couldn’t contain his smile. Ava Wells was much more guileless than he would have ever imagined. Her image was exotic, worldly, sexy—never the beautiful ingénue. He wondered why—he would absolutely love to photograph her this way.

  “Well, if the whiskey isn’t working, maybe talking will. Are you upset because of your fight with Finola?”

  She stared at him, and he couldn’t quite decide if she was surprised by his directness or not. Her dark brown eyes roamed his face.

  Finally she tilted her head and asked, “Where are you from?”

  Charlie frowned. Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected her to say, but he supposed it was good that she was talking at all.

  “I’m from a small town in Ohio.”

  Her eyes lit up. “I’m from Kansas.”

  She said that as if they were from the same state, the same town even. But maybe just both being from the Midwest was enough. Was she homesick? Was that it? Maybe she wanted a break from modeling, and she wanted to go home. That might explain Finola’s irritation with her. Maybe.

  She picked up her glass, seeming to forget she’d already drained it, then she set it back down.

  “But Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” she muttered under her breath at the empty highball glass.

  Charlie raised an eyebrow at her words, surprised at the echo of his own recent references to The Wizard of Oz. But she wasn’t excited about the world of Oz like he was. She was clearly tired. Maybe even a little jaded, making it interesting that he couldn’t see anything but youthful innocence on her features.

  Charlie sighed, feeling a little helpless. Maybe she’d just had a rough day and needed an escape from her exciting supermodel life.

  He looked around the rundown bar; he could certainly offer her that.

  He picked up his own menu, his fingers sticking to a smear of half-dried ketchup along the edge. At least he hoped that’s what it was.

  “Why don’t we order something?” he suggested, waving his menu slightly, offering her a smile.

  She shook her head, then nodd
ed. “Actually that sounds good.”

  They stared at their menus, both silent.

  “See anything you want?” Charlie asked, finding their silence heavy, uncomfortable.

  Ava didn’t look up, but instead answered his question with one of her own. “Is your family still in Ohio?”

  She was good at that, he realized. Answering his questions with an unrelated question of her own.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have siblings?”

  “Yes, two older sisters.”

  She smiled then, a wistful little curl of her full lips. “The baby and only boy? I bet you got bossed around.”

  He grinned back, liking that smile. “Just a little.”

  Her smile deepened as she looked back at her menu. “I think I will get the meat loaf. Have you had it? Is it any good?”

  Charlie had eaten here more times than he was willing to admit. But the prices were decent and he didn’t have to eat alone—well, not exactly alone.

  “Nice choice. It’s pretty good. Homemade.”

  She glanced up at him, her smile stunning. A strange skittering sensation danced through his chest.

  He looked back to his menu, surprised by the odd feeling.

  “Is your family still in Kansas?” he asked.

  He glanced up when after a moment, she hadn’t answered.

  She continued to look down at her own menu. Charlie couldn’t see her eyes, but her lovely smile was gone.

  Finally she nodded, just a tiny bob of her head. “My mother is there—she’s the only family I have.”

  Charlie wanted to ask more, but he could tell by her closed expression she didn’t want to expound on the topic. Like she didn’t want to talk about Finola White. Tonight, she wanted to forget for a while. He could try to help her with that.

  “My middle sister used to make me dress up as a girl,” he said suddenly, not even aware he was going to share that embarrassing little tidbit until it was already out of his mouth.

  Ava’s brows drew together, then to his pleasure, she laughed.

  “A girl? But she already had an older sister.”

  “Well, she wanted all sisters. So I attended many a tea party in her old dresses.”

  A sweet, infectious giggle escaped Ava’s full, ruby lips. “Do you still don a dress now and then?”

  Charlie widened his eyes, feigning a look of offense. Then he managed an equally believable sheepish smile. “Okay, only when I’m going to a very special tea party.”

  Ava laughed again. The sound thrilled him as much as if he’d made the winning catch at a big game. Or flown to the moon. Or made a sad supermodel forget her problems just for few moments.

  Joey returned to take their orders. Charlie ordered the same meal as Ava, and Charlie was glad to see that she asked for a soft drink rather than another stiff one. Maybe she didn’t feel quite so much like she needed to drown her sorrows now.

  Ava took the last bite of her meat loaf, allowing herself to enjoy the home-cooked meal, even though it definitely wasn’t on her model’s diet.

  She also watched the man across from her, just letting herself enjoy him too. He was funny and sweet and handsome, but not in the fake, perfected way of most of the men who filled her world. Men with features and physiques she’d found so attractive when she’d been a young girl flipping through fashion magazines and celebrity rags in her tiny bedroom in Kansas. Oh, how she’d coveted that world, those perfect people. What a silly, stupid girl she’d been.

  Because right now, she couldn’t imagine finding anything more appealing than slightly shaggy auburn hair, a lean build and a goofy—and wonderfully adorable—grin.

  He reached for his beer, and Ava noticed how long and strong his fingers looked against the glass. How nicely muscled his forearms were with his plain white shirt sleeves rolled back. How perfectly shaped his lips were, not too full, not too thin. Kissable lips.

  She blinked at that thought, then decided that she could hardly be shocked her thoughts had gone in that direction. She’d been aware of him all night. Aroused by him, if she was being honest.

  He was really quite gorgeous in a way she wished she’d appreciated before she found herself in the terrible world she now inhabited. A world of faked perfection. Where no one was real, or genuine, or kind.

  But would he be sitting across from her now if she was still average, old Addy Wellmeyer? She shoved that thought aside. She was Ava Wells now—and for once she was going to enjoy the benefits of giving up everything to become this person. The world believed a woman like Ava Wells got everything she wanted. Oh, if they knew the truth.

  But tonight . . . tonight, she was going to get what she wanted.

  He was just taking a sip of his beer as she asked, “So you said you live near here, huh? Can we go back to your place?”

  His eyes widened mid-swallow as if he was going to choke on the the golden liquid. But he managed to lower his glass and school his features into a semblance of calm. The only other sign of his surprise was the slightly too loud clatter of his mug hitting the table.

  “Umm, yeah. Sure. Of course we can.”

  Chapter Six

  “Well, this is it.”

  Charlie watched as Ava wandered around his small living room. A tiny room that was practically eaten up by a worn sofa and an even shabbier recliner. He winced as her fingers traced a crack in the ancient vinyl along the arm of it.

  “My father had a chair just like this.” Her voice sounded wistful, distant. “He loved that chair.”

  Charlie felt slightly better that she wasn’t disgusted by his motley assortment of furnishings.

  The vinyl creaked under her weight as she sat down on the recliner. She had that distant look he’d seen at the bar. She was sad again, struggling with something, and Charlie didn’t know how to chase her sorrow away. Not for good anyway.

  All he could do was be a good host and listen if she decided to talk.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  She looked up, her dark eyes refocusing on him.

  “Um, sure.” Her voice sounded a little sheepish, not the same as the confident woman in the bar who had asked to come over here.

  “I think I have some beer, a bottle of wine, although I don’t know how good it is. Soda and milk.”

  “A little wine would be good.”

  He nodded and rushed away to his tiny galley-style kitchen. He hated to admit it, but he was rattled. Ava Wells in his apartment. Yeah, he needed a drink too.

  He rummaged around in one of the drawers until he found the corkscrew. Reaching for the wine, he made a face. It was white and should have been served cold. Oh well. It was probably going to taste so awful she wouldn’t even notice it was room temperature.

  He pulled down two wine glasses, plastic ones he’d nicked from a New Year’s Eve party last year. Pulling another face, he filled one glass and downed it.

  Yep, terrible.

  He refilled the glass as well as the second one.

  Glasses in hand, he headed the few feet back into the living room. When he entered the room, Ava was no longer in the recliner. Instead she stood in front of one of his photos that he had framed on his wall. A moody black and white of a bride in her gown, no veil, lost in her thoughts. Thoughts that were clear on her face—hesitation, doubt, fear. Second thoughts.

  Needless to say, that shot didn’t make it into the wedding portfolio.

  “This picture is amazing.”

  Charlie opened his mouth to tell her he’d taken it, but something stopped him. Maybe a concern that if he told her he was a photographer, she would think he wanted to use her. He wasn’t quite sure what stopped him, but he simply held out the wine.

  “Here you go.”

  Ava glanced away from the photo and took the glass. She sipped the golden liquid, not seeming to notice the unpleasant taste. Her attention returned to the picture.

  “She looks so uncertain, yet I bet she went through with the wedding anyway. Because she though
t it was what she should want.”

  Charlie took a swallow of his wine rather than tell her that the bride had, in fact, gone through with it. He was far more interested in why Ava Wells seemed to understand all too well that sort of resignation to fate.

  She took another long sip of her drink, then turned back to Charlie.

  “Are you going to show me the rest of your place?”

  His eyes widened as he realized exactly what she meant, then nodded. “Sure.”

  Man, she sure had a way of shocking the hell out of him.

  He turned, glancing back to see if she was following.

  “This is the bathroom,” he said, flipping on the light to show her the tiny room that managed to hold a pedestal sink, a toilet and a stall shower—just barely.

  “Very cute.”

  Charlie smiled at her, appreciating her generous way of saying “too small.”

  “And . . .” He snapped on the light, which illuminated his bedroom, another crowded space that contained his dresser and queen-sized bed. He was pleased to see he’d actually made his bed this morning. Sheer luck, that.

  Ava slipped past him, reaching out to test the firmness of his mattress. “This is nice.”

  Charlie laughed.

  “Hardly, but it’s affordable and clean,” he said, choosing to misunderstand her meaning and act as if she was referring to the apartment rather than the bed. “And I don’t plan to stay here forever.”

  “Planning for bigger and better?”

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  She nodded. “Sometimes we should just enjoy what we have. Bigger and better isn’t always best.”

  Again Charlie wondered what had her so unhappy, so dissatisfied, but he remained quiet.

  She wandered farther into the room, setting her plastic glass on the nightstand, a nicked, dark wood affair that he’d picked up at Goodwill.

  Then she turned and walked back to him. Just inches away, she stopped.

  “What’s your name?”

  Charlie froze, his eyes wide. Had he really not told her his name? Since he knew hers he supposed he’d just felt she must know his. Silly of him.