by R. C. Murphy
Shayla laughed. Deryck’s heart flipped at the pureness of it. “No, I called to ask you for a good tuna casserole recipe.”
He frowned. “What is a casserole recipe?”
She laughed harder. The sound of her voice retreated from the phone for a moment. “That was a joke, Deryck. Yes, I’d love to see you again. We didn’t really get a chance to know each other well the other night.”
“How about tonight?”
Shayla paused. Deryck picked a purple wildflower and twisted it between his fingers, counting the seconds it took her to break the silence.
“How late tonight?”
“Whatever works for you, I’m free all night. We can put it off if you have other plans.”
“No, no. I want to see you tonight. After eight, maybe? I’ve got something to do right after work. What did you have in mind?”
Deryck stretched out one leg and tapped the toe of his boot against the tall grass. “You’re going to think this is lame, but I thought about doing a movie and dessert night at your place. Not if it is an imposition, though. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Shayla paused again. Deryck kicked himself for even suggesting he invade her personal space on what was supposed to be a date. There was no way she’d agree to let a virtual stranger into her place.
A rattle sounded over the line. Deryck frowned at his phone.
“Sorry, someone came over to ask me something.”
“I shouldn’t have called while you’re at work. I’m sorry, Shayla.”
“Stop apologizing. It’s nice to have a distraction from paperwork. And I think a night in will be great. I’ll pick up a movie on my way home. You are in charge of dessert.”
“Should I bring some wine as well?”
Shayla groaned. He heard a loud thud on her end, as though she’d hit something against the top of her desk. “No, no alcohol.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. My coworkers dragged me to a bar last night after work. My liver is still pissed at me.”
Deryck raised a brow and wondered exactly how much she’d had to drink. He’d seen her drunk before. It was an interesting sight. “Right, no alcohol. I’ll see you after eight. Goodbye, Shayla.”
“See you later, Deryck.”
Deryck hung up and checked the time. He needed to get back to the compound. He’d been gone over twenty-four hours. None of them stayed in the Inbetween that long. They couldn’t die of exhaustion or dehydration, but they needed to recuperate after serving their mistresses. No wonder he’d passed out waiting to call Shayla. He went straight from his last caller to the human realm. That he’d stayed awake long enough to watch the sunrise was a miracle.
Standing, he did his best to knock the grass, pollen, and dirt off of his clothes. Deryck ran his hands through his hair and shook debris out of it. He probably looked like a homeless man. The first thing he’d have to do when he transported back was to take a long shower and ditch his clothes in the hamper outside the shower room. Their clothes weren’t cleaned; they vanished and were replaced with brand new clothes. Incubi only went around with holes in their pants if they were intended to be there by the designer.
Deryck took a deep breath and held in the sense of life the human realm held in its air. He let it out slowly, focusing on the bands around his wrists to tap into his powers. The hillside sucked down into blackness with wildflowers waving goodbye.
“I am surprised you called me so soon.”
“I’m a little surprised myself, to be honest.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
Shayla felt a blush rising up her cheeks and looked away from the man sitting across from her. She rolled a straw wrapper between her fingertips and forced her heart to stop beating so fast. It didn’t help at all. The look in his eyes said far more than his words. She didn’t know how to react. For Shayla, dating was very much fight or flight. He made her want to run, which is why she’d called him and asked him to meet her. It was time she faced her fears.
The Starbucks she’d picked for their meeting was busy, far busier than the little coffee shop she normally went to. People moved in a constant stream in and out the double doors behind her. The line at the register was six people deep and growing. Everyone wanted one last fix before heading home after work. A few people broke off from the stream and stalked the sitting area for an available electric outlet with phone cords or laptops dangling from their hands. The handful of big, comfortable chairs were filled with folks and their computers. They were typing intently, hardly looking up from the screen. Shayla amused herself by wondering if any of them were attempting to write the next great American novel.
“Are you still with me?”
Shayla took a breath and turned back to her coffee companion. Harry’s dark gaze watched her so carefully, she thought she had whipped cream on her chin and subtly swiped at it with the back of her hand. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“I asked where you worked.”
“I’m an office aid in a building over on Olive.” She took a sip of her iced coffee.
“There are a lot of office buildings over there. I work in the area myself. We’ve probably walked past each other and never noticed.”
“Where do you work?” Maybe if she got him to focus on himself for a few minutes, she’d be able to relax. I’m losing my damn mind, trying to see two men at the same time. God, I hope he can’t see the guilt on my face.
“I’m over at First National Bank in the loan department. Just got a big promotion a few weeks ago.” Harry’s smile widened. He was really proud of himself.
“Oh, that’s interesting.” Shayla winced. She sounded bored with the conversation. Her mind wouldn’t stay put; it kept wandering to what may happen that night.
“Not really. I have to listen to a lot of people’s problems. It becomes dull after a while, but my bills are paid on time and with the promotion, I have a little extra to spend on having fun.”
“I’ll bite, what does a loan guy do for fun around here?”
Harry shrugged and sipped his steaming cappuccino. “I like to collect things.”
Shayla raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to expand on that or should I start guessing?” She braced her elbows on the table and leaned in to study him. “Let me guess . . . you collect ceramic poodles. Oh, wait I know. You find street artists and make their dreams come true by buying their paintings.”
He shook his head and met her eyes with a serious gaze. “I collect beautiful things that catch my eye.”
Startled by his in-your-face flirting, Shayla sat back in her seat and pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket, acting as though she’d gotten a text message. “Sorry. My best friend is pregnant and is in the midst of a hormonal breakdown over paint colors for the nursery.”
Harry chuckled. “Do you have any children, Shayla?”
It was an innocent question, but it sent a shard of pain through her heart nonetheless. Shayla took a long drink of her coffee and focused on keeping calm. “No, I don’t.”
“That is a shame. I think you’d make a very kind, caring mother. Perhaps someday you will be given the opportunity to have a child of your own.” Harry patted her arm.
Shayla pulled her hand back and clutched the strap of her purse like it’d keep the memories from drowning her. “I can’t have children, actually.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve brought up a sore subject.” His eyebrows pulled down, making his eyes even darker. “Let’s change subjects.”
She flipped her phone over and checked the time. Deryck would be at her place in about two hours. She still needed to pick up the movie and straighten up before he got there. Shayla’s heartbeat picked up pace. Guilt ate at her. She was technically on a date with someone else, but she couldn’t help looking forward to seeing Deryck.
Sliding her phone in her pocket, Shayla pushed back from the table. “I’m sorry, I have to cut this short.”
“Let me walk you to your car.�
�� Harry stood and pulled on his coat. The man was polished, perfect. She felt frumpy standing beside him in her desk chair wrinkled skirt.
They entered the stream of people heading out the door and hooked a left toward the parking lot. It was as full, if not more, as inside. Harry stepped closer to avoid a car backing out of a parking space. His warmth seeped through the thin sleeve of her suit jacket. The man could provide heat for a family of Eskimos, and then some.
Shayla fished her keys out of her purse and headed straight for her Mazda. She made it as far as unlocking her door before Harry gently turned her around with a hand on her shoulder. He was close. Too close. Kissing close. His fingers embraced hers and raised them to his mouth. Soft lips brushed over her knuckles, but she felt nothing like she’d felt when Deryck did the same.
“Until we see each other again, Shayla.” He leaned in closer. Shayla was convinced he would kiss her. Instead, he brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled.
Shayla’s hand searched blindly for the door handle behind her. She found it and popped the door open. Harry took the hint and stepped back to let her open it all the way. Relieved, she slid into the seat.
“Have a good night, Harry.”
She reached for the door, but he beat her to it and gently shut it for her. Shayla put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. Looking back in the rearview mirror, she half expected to see Harry watching her leave. He wasn’t. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She hadn’t noticed any other cars pulling out.
“Maybe he went back inside.”
For the first time since she left work, Shayla took a deep breath and felt her shoulders relax. Her car rolled into the street and began the drive home. About a mile from her place, Shayla stopped at Target and ducked inside. It didn’t take long to find the movie she wanted, pay, and head back to the car. It was the quickest shopping trip she’d ever completed. She didn’t want to look too deep into the reason why she was so eager to get home.
Ignorance is bliss. And the longer she ignored her feelings, the longer she could avoid the memories they dredged up. Unless I have another dream.
Shayla shut down that train of thought and focused on not taking out her mailbox on the turn into her driveway. She parked and hit the e-brake on the car so it wouldn’t roll back out the drive. It’d happened once—during her first week in the new place. Her neighbors still gave her grief years later.
She made her way into her house. Dumping everything on the couch, Shayla doubled back to the closet in the entryway and grabbed a can of furniture polish and a handful of rags. She had an hour to make her place look like a slob didn’t live there.
You can’t clean away your guilt about two dates in one night.
“Shut up, self,” Shayla muttered and headed into the dining room to tackle the dust bunnies.
Gods be damned, that light is bright enough to illuminate an entire solar system.
Deryck threw an arm up to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness burning his corneas. Peeking around the bag in his hand, he winced and ducked behind his makeshift shade. It was a wonder no one in the neighborhood complained about the brightness of Shayla’s front porch light. Most folks opted for a plain sixty-watt bulb. She had an industrial fixture above her door, likely lifted from an airport runway or something.
Black splotches danced in front of Deryck’s eyes. He heard a click and a soft whoosh. Bracing himself, he lowered his arm and smiled at the woman in the open doorway.
“Hey, Shayla.”
“Why are you squinting?” She clapped a hand to her mouth. A squeak of laughter leaked through her fingers. “Sorry about the light. One can never be too safe.”
“Here I thought you had something against people actually seeing your front door.”
Shayla flipped off the light. The world seemed too dark after being nearly blinded.
Deryck blinked a few times to chase the dark spots out of his vision. “Thank you.”
Shayla’s eyes dropped to the paper bags in his hands. “Are those what I think they are?”
He smiled and wagged the lighter bag gently. “Fresh baked addiction. I couldn’t think of anything else . . . to bring, that is.” Deryck kicked himself. Way to make it sound like you enjoyed the doughnuts more than her company, jackass. What will you do next, hit on her best friend and make out with her mother? Somewhere in the universe there must exist a dating manual. He desperately needed to get his hands on it before Shayla thought him a total jerk.
“Come in.” She stepped aside and gestured toward the entryway of her home. “What’s in the other bag?”
Deryck followed her through the front door and closed it behind them. “I didn’t know what to bring for drinks, so I asked Pearl.” He shook the second bag. “Do you still like strawberry milk?”
“Oh my God.” Shayla snatched the heavier bag from him and peered inside. “I can’t believe she remembered.” She flashed him a smile. Deryck swore part of his insides melted. “You might as well hand over the other bag before I tackle you for it.”
Deryck chuckled and handed it over, even though he’d love to feel her body pressed against his. Cool it before she figures out you aren’t the gentleman you pretend to be around her.
The entryway to Shayla’s home was short, with enough room for them, a coat rack, a small table where her keys and mail sat neatly, and not much else. A wave of chemical lemon scent assaulted his nose, coming from the two rooms splitting off the hallway. To the right was the dining room. Every surface in the space gleamed in the light from the small wrought iron chandelier hung above a small dining set with four chairs. Obviously, Shayla came from a small family, or didn’t entertain guests much. He couldn’t comprehend eating a meal without at least ten people crowded around the table. Tiny figurines cluttered a long cabinet along the far wall, most from cartoons he didn’t know, but had seen often in his time in the human realm.
Across the hall was the living room. The space was much more Shayla, instead of a preconception of what “normal” looked like. A row of three large bookcases took up an entire wall of the room. One of the cases overflowed with small plastic cases and stacks of shining disks. The other cases held so many books, Deryck couldn’t figure out how they didn’t topple over from the weight. Above the large flat screen TV hung a painting of a woman with platinum hair hunting in a forest. Deryck narrowed his eyes and took a step into the living room. No, it wasn’t a woman. The painted figure was male and tips of his ears were pointed. He had his bow drawn and aimed at a shadowy figure in the distance.
Deryck smiled. This is the real Shayla.
Shayla’s bare feet padded down the hall. Deryck turned to relieve her of the bags. She held on to them. “Let me grab some glasses and put the doughnuts on a plate. At least we can pretend to be civil.”
“Do you need any help?”
“Nope. Go ahead and get comfortable in the living room. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the open doorway of the kitchen.
Deryck made it two feet into the living room before Shayla leaned out of the kitchen and called, “The right corner of the couch is mine.” She gave him a playful warning look and vanished again.
Amused, Deryck decided to play it safe and avoid the couch altogether. He settled into the oversized chair beside the couch. The soft seat swallowed his large frame. How on earth did Shayla sit in it without disappearing for days on end? It was a good reading chair. He easily imagined her curled up sideways with her legs dangling over the arm.
From the kitchen, he heard the gentle clinking of glasses and the pat-pat-pat of Shayla’s bare feet on the floor. She has really sexy feet. Deryck shook his head at the thought. “I’m losing my mind.”
Shayla crossed the hall, a long, oval plate balanced precariously atop two tall glasses of strawberry milk. Deryck jumped up and grabbed the plate as it tilted dangerously close to falling.
“Thanks.” She set the glasses down on the low table in front of the couch.
Deryck p
ut the plate of doughnuts beside them. “You should’ve let me help.”
“I had it covered.” Shayla dropped onto the couch.
Deryck raised a brow and settled into the man-eating chair again. “If by covered, you mean about to cover the floor in dessert, then yes, you had it covered perfectly well.”
She cut a look his way and grabbed a powdered, jelly-filled doughnut off the plate. Deryck followed her lead, glad to fill his mouth with something other than sarcasm which could potentially land him locked out of her house.
“What are we watching?”
Shayla grabbed a small rectangular device off of the couch cushion beside her feet. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I went with something safe.”
The television across the room flared to life. Music poured out of the speakers, loud and commanding. “The Avengers” scrawled across the top of the screen. Deryck wished he had a clue what she’d picked. He knew he was about to make an ass of himself.
“What’s this?”
Shayla gaped at him. “You haven’t seen The Avengers? Oh man, you’ve been living under one heck of a rock.”
She pressed a button on the device in her hand. The music cut off and the image on the screen changed. Shayla grabbed her glass of milk and scooted into the corner of the couch.
Deryck tried to pay attention to the creatures talking on the screen, but his eyes drifted over to watch Shayla watching the film. Her facial expressions when new characters appeared were mesmerizing. He had no clue what was happening in the movie, but loved it for the simple fact that it allowed him to see a side of Shayla he’d never seen before, and he doubted many others had either. She was relaxed, comfortable, and sexy as hell in a slightly oversized sweater and jeans.
He’s looking at me again. Is there something in my hair?
Shayla subtly ran her hand through her ponytail to make sure it looked okay. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Deryck’s eyes follow the path of her hand before going back to the TV. His gaze wasn’t the same intense, predatory look Harry had given her earlier. He seemed curious about her, about what she liked. But obviously, the movie wasn’t doing anything for him.