His handshake was warm and somehow carried the intent that, if he wasn’t my friend yet, he intended to be so by the end of our meeting.
“Patrick,” he said. “Patrick Baum.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Baum.”
“No,” he said, holding my hand for an extra beat. “So nice to meet you. And it’s just Patrick, please.” His voice was easy, the burr of it a finger across the back of my neck. A shiver rippled down my spine.
He was not human, but I didn’t know what he was, exactly.
“Welcome to Ordinary,” I said, drawing my hand back. If he didn’t want to tell me what type of supernatural he was, that was fine. But if he wanted to stay in Ordinary in any permanent way, I’d need to tell him the rules. “Are you here for the weekend?”
“Oh,” he leaned back on one foot, but managed not to move out of my personal space at all. “I’m leaving my options open. Been moving around the country. Looking for a vacation home. Stopped by Boring, as a matter of fact. And what a lucky break that was.”
Bertie, who had been waiting for us to be done with our pleasantries with as much patience as she ever managed, went ramrod straight.
Tish eased away from Bertie. Patrick didn’t appear to notice her discomfort at the mention of the town where Bertie’s sister and rival Valkyrie, Robyn, had set up her nest.
His attention was on me, unwavering, his gaze intent. That smile was just so friendly, like we were both in on a private joke against the world.
I hated it.
I lifted my left hand and gestured at Bertie, but made sure my engagement ring was in full view. If that didn’t make him turn that smile down to battery saver level, I’d tell him I was engaged, and wouldn’t have been interested in him if I weren’t.
“How do you know Bertie?” I asked.
“I invited him here,” she said stiffly. “To…assist my efforts.”
Uh-oh. I didn’t like the sound of that. “Which efforts?”
“Marketing and outreach. Social media.”
“You probably recognize me now don’t you?” he asked, doing the gosh-ma’am humble act that I was pretty sure was just that—an act. “Everyone does when they hear ‘social media.’”
Bertie glared at me like I was the slowest bus at the station. Tish’s eyes went wide.
Okay, I was missing something.
“I don’t recognize you,” I said. “Should I?”
Than, still watching from the counter behind us, snorted softly.
“Well, I’m embarrassed,” Patrick said, working the boy-next-door angle.
“He isverywell known. On the social medias,” Bertie said, and I couldn’t tell if she was complimenting him or insulting him. “He is an influencer.”
“Bauming Down the Road,” he said. “You know, I pick little places full of big fun. Find all the sweet road bombs for road lovers who’re looking for places to visit that still have a little of that old-fashioned magic in them.”
Magic. Did he mean that literally or figuratively? “I haven’t seen your stuff, sorry. Are you telling me Ordinary is a place with old-fashioned magic in it?”
Bertie cleared her throat. “That is what I invited him here to find out.”
“Well,invited,” he dragged out the word with a smile. “More like the events coordinator in Boring…what was her name?” He snapped his fingers. “Robyn. She spilled the beans that I was coming by.”
“Yes,” Bertie said tightly. “And then I invited you.”
There was something more to all this, something that didn’t sit right. There were rules in Ordinary, and one of them was that supernaturals, except for gods and demons, were free to come and go. But if any of them decided to stay for an extended time, or live here, the rules changed.
So as long as Road Bomb didn’t break the law, he was free to tourist the town.
