The phone rangagain.
Bathin watched me. “Do you want him to start worrying about you? Selfish. It really could be an emergency. There are creatures out in the world beyond Ordinary, you know. Gods, demons,monsters....”
I made a frustrated sound and grabbed my phone. “Delaney,” Ibarked.
There was a pause on the other end of theline.
“Did I catch you at a badtime?”
And just like that, the warmth and rumble of Ryder’s voice, low and warm and sexy, made everything around me lessannoying.
The crackly sound system filtered Nat King Cole crooning about chestnuts and roastingfires.
Rain rattled down the windows. Street lamps set each raindrop ablaze: sparkling like melted stars caught in darkglass.
I was surrounded by people, heat, noise, life. Christmas was in theair.
All I heard, all I felt, wasRyder.
“Not a bad time,” I said, my own voice dropping, all the hard edges and frustration slidingaway.
I missed him. His laugh. The way he tried to trick me into telling him which supernaturals lived intown.
The way he rolled out of bed in the morning and walked to the bathroom with his eyes closed, groping at the light switch and shower and not opening his eyes until he was under the warm spray for at least five minute. The way he always offered me the last French fry on hisplate.
I wanted to see him, touch him, know he was solid and real in my life. That we were solid and real in this lifetogether.
“You’re good,” I said. “This is good. Is everythingokay?”
“Yes?” He inhaled, held it. “Why?”
“You’re callingearly.”
That pause again. “I…things are winding down here. With the build. With the holiday coming up, I thought, maybe Ishould….”
I waited. He didn’t finish the thought. “Shouldwhat?”
Did he want to stay there? The long drive home with holiday traffic would be a hassle, especially since he’d just have to turn around and go back to tie off the project’s loose ends the day afterChristmas.
My stomach knotted. I pressed my lips together so that I wouldn’t make any disappointed noise when he told me he was going to staythere.
“Should come home,” hesaid.
I exhaled hard, the rush of my heartbeat making my breath a little hitchy. Bathin raised his eyebrows at me then shook his head.Told you sohemouthed.
“I’ll try to be there by early afternoon tomorrow. If that works foryou?”
“That sounds good. Really great.” I cleared my throat. “But the passes are pretty bad after the last freeze. Are yousure?”
“I’msure.”
“Okay. Promise you’ll drive carefully and chainup.”
“Iwill.”
Another long pause where I listened to the inhale and exhale of his breathing. I strained to hear more of him, of what was aroundhim.
I could just make out the radio over the rumble of his truck engine. Another Christmas song, this one about peace on Earth, carried by the smooth chocolatly baritone of Bing Crosby mixed with Bowie’s caramel-sweettenor.
