As the door swung shut again behind her, Dylan scrubbed both hands over his face and up into his hair. His fingers tangled in the dark curls and pulled them back from his temples. He took a deep breath and let it out raggedly, then turned to grab an old pair of Vans from the back of his locker.
Sure, Dylan thought as he pulled the shoes on, he could try that. Why not?
The cab dropped Dylan off at theJust-as-Highwith a warning from the driver that it wasn’t open yet.
That was OK. One of the perks of being the owner’s…boss? boyfriend? burden? whatever they were…was that you got a key. Dylan ignored the Closed sign on the maindoors and let himself into the bar. The wind picked up as he fumbled with the lock and blew him and a handful of candy wrappers into the hall. Dylan tripped down the step, and the door slammed behind him, loud enough to make him jump.
It felt pointed.
Dylan couldn’t be sure it wasn’t.
Magic was weird that way, and he wasn’t used to it yet. He wasn’t sure he’deverbe used to it.
Behind the bar, Gull glanced up from his bag in surprise, a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth. The lanky bartender relaxed when he recognized Dylan. He shoved the snack into his mouth and wiped his hand on his jeans, just out of sight under the counter.
“Hey, Dylan,” Gull said. “Haven’t seen you for a while.”
Thatwas a sore spot. It was nothing to do with Gull, though, so Dylan tried to keep his feelings off his face. He did that a lot with Gull anyhow. It was…hard, sometimes to know more about who Gull was—whatGull was—than Gull did.
“Yeah, well, I guess things have been quiet around here, then,” Dylan said as he walked over. “Not a bad thing.”
Gull pulled a face like he didn’t entirely agree. He held the bag out and rustled it expectantly.
“Want some?” he asked.
Experience had taught Dylan to be cautious. All the fairy stories said not to accept hospitality from the fey. What they left out was that it wasn’t anything to do with magic; the food was just bad. Yule Lads would eat anything, even ones who didn’t remember who they were.
Dylan hesitated. Before he could refuse, his stomach rumbled loudly to remind him a man couldn’t live on vending machine granola bars alone.
“Is it just popcorn?” he checked.
Gull looked confused. “Yeah,” he said and tilted the bag back toward him to look in. “Popcorn. Some pickles. A bit of curry powder…”
Yeah. That sounded about right. He should have gone with his first instincts.
Dylan pulled his hand back. “I’ll grab something from the kitchen. Later,” he said. “Is Somerset in?”
“Yeah,” Gull said. He tilted his head toward the door on the other side of the bar and raised a rusty red eyebrow. “He’s in the office. Want me to let him know you’re looking for him?”
“No need,” Dylan said as he turned to head that way. “He’ll work it out.”
He’d got as far the pool table when a quick “Hey” from behind him made him look back. Gull scrubbed one hand through his hair and frowned.
“You OK?” he asked. “The boss was pretty worried about you last night.”
Dylan could believe that. Sort of. The question was whether he’d been more concerned about Dylan or Santa. Despite what the Yule Lads thought, they weren’t the same.
Yule obviously got that from the way it had left him hanging last night.
“I’ll live,” Dylan reassured Gull. He lifted his arm slightly, the sleeve of the hoodie tight around the tape-and-gauze dressing on his forearm. “I might even be able to play piano again, which is great, because I never knew how before.”
The joke didn’t deserve much. It got a laugh anyhow. The flash of amusement distracted Gull from his concern, and he waved Dylan off as he turned back to his popcorn and stock take.
The sign on the door said Staff Only. Dylan ignored it as he pushed the door open and walked on through.
Behind the battered desk, Somerset dropped his phone and pulled a knife from under the desk. The Yule Boy in the desk opposite him scrambled to his feet and turned around, the brutally practical curve of his hook already in one hand.
“Busy?” Dylan asked.
