“I did not. You have very expressive sighs.” He wasn’t even trying to hide the smug as he crossed his arms, smirking like the villain in a slow-burn romance. “It also doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re not exactly used to affection.”
“Smartass,” she muttered, flipping the bacon.
With full demonic audacity, he added, “Careful, sweetheart. Keep getting all soft on me, and I might start thinking you like me or something.”
She flapped a hand at him like he was smoke she was trying to wave away. “Go sit and shut up.”
He grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her, loud and obnoxious. “Yes, ma’am.”
Well. She might actually be getting in trouble or something.
Damn him.
Chapter 7
The plan they both agreed on was to eat, then say goodbye. The library was going to be open the day after, and he was going to pick her up tomorrow and take her to dinner. But then, she threw out there to watchNotting Hill. Hunter had a thing for Hugh Grant and couldn’t say no to any movie with him in it, soNotting Hillturned intoLove, Actually. By then, the sky was already darkening, so why not push it toTwo Weeks Notice? Tucked at his side, cookie boxes, muffin liners, and cups of tea had piled up on the coffee table–Hunter appeared to be bottomless when it came to food. She’d started drawing tiny nothings on his arm. He massaged her calf, thigh, and any part of her close enough for him to touch.
Next thing they knew, they were tangled up in each other on the floor.
Then they continued to be tangled up in the shower.
And after a light dinner, they tangled up in bed.
He spent the night, and there was zero self-consciousness the morning after, when they left the house together, and she went to the library while he went wherever he had to go.
And now she was walking the aisles of her library with a smile hovering on her lips.
With half the town still drunk on eggnog and family drama, the other half off to the mountains to ski, December 27 lull left Daphne in a blissfully quiet library.
She was filing returns with a smile hovering on her lips, humming under her breath like someone who’d gottenthoroughly, gloriously fucked by a demon and was still riding the high. She returned a stack of holiday romance novels to their rightful shelves, pausing to smirk at the cover ofSanta, Babybecause yeah, she now understood the appeal of a magical, overpowered boyfriend with stamina and an attitude problem. She restocked the tea nook, refilled the cinnamon sticks, and replaced the “Quiet Please” sign that had mysteriously gained a mustache overnight. Then she sat at the front desk and wrote out a few thank-you notes to the regulars who’d dropped off gifts–tea tins, bookmarks, a funny snow globe shaped like Bigfoot in a Santa hat.
Every now and then, she’d stop, press a hand to her chest like a total sap, and grin while very many things should have bothered her.
She didn’t fully buy the sleep therapist stuff. Saying you were a demon was as defining as saying you were a mammal–lions, mice, sloths all were mammals, but some could kill you. He’d never once let anything slip about his life. Did he have a house besides the Norwegian cabin? Hobbies that were not watching Hugh Grant or eating? She kept breezing over the things she didn’t know, and he didn’t volunteer, and that was one hundred percent new.
Newer still? How she trusted him anyway. Not only that he wouldn’t hurt her, but that he would totally step in front of a freaking tornado to save her. A part of her she’d call new, if a person could develop a new part of their soul, had emerged. That part recognized him in a way that was too deep for someone you’d known for weeks. That part loudly told her all those things were nothing but details, and that he was her person, regardless. There had been a crazy moment when they watched TV, when she might have sworn sheknewwhat he was feeling. Peace, contentment, joy. And for someone like her, it was unsettling.
Lust, even love, she understood.
This went deeper.
It should have scared her more than it did. It actually didn’t scare her at all. It was natural, it was right.
And so she would keep on going this way, with him, for as long as they both wanted it.
She needed the restroom, so she strolled to the bathroom with a sigh and locked the stall. The moment she sat down, a sound caught her attention–because, of course, that’s when it happens. She stilled mid-motion, her ears straining. It sounded like something had... cracked? The sound had a brittle finality to it, like the first hiss of breaking ice that you know won’t stop.
She finished her business and opened the stall door.
Uh.
Itwasa crack, splitting the bathroom mirror like lightning, cutting nearly from one edge to the other.
Daphne blew out a breath. Damn it. She’d have to log the issue and notify the county facilities manager so he could send someone out to take a look. With a sigh, she tapped the mirror in a few spots. It seemed stable. No loose shards, no wobble. Just one ugly crack slicing across the glass. She’d tape off the sink area and put up a sign not to use the sink to be extra safe.
She might also put in a request to check on the lights while she was at it, she thought as she went back to the front desk. Shadows had been playing odd the entire day, like they bent toward her. Whoever came for the mirror could check on the bulbs and stuff.
It was three, meaning she had one hour before closure. She might as well start the incident report and fill out the maintenance request form.
