I picked up Sedona, turned it over, and grinned when I saw a list written in Ryder’s clean blocky script. “Pros: restaurants, artisans, wine tour, canyon tours, stars. Cons: too woo-woo.”
“You think Sedona, Arizona, is too woo-woo? For the woman who spends her life dealing with gods and monsters and magic?”
“They have a buttload of energy vortexes there. Says so in the pamphlet.”
“I think I can handle a few energy vortexes. At least they aren’t gateways for demon spawn.”
He turned with dinner: a pan of beautifully roasted chicken and vegetables with a sauce almost thick enough to be gravy. It smelled like heaven.
“That you know of.”
“That we know of,” I agreed.
“So you like the idea of Sedona, huh?” He settled dinner in the middle of the island, slightly to one side, then plucked serving utensils out of the drawer.
“I do like the idea of Sedona,” I said.
He dished food, and I dished food. Once our plates were full, he asked, “But?”
I took a bit of chicken then a chunk of yam, both covered in garlic, rosemary and sage sauce. “Oh, my gods,” I mumbled. “This is amazing.”
“Thank you. I got the recipe from Myra. Back to Sedona. But?”
I sighed and put my fork down, twisting my fingers in the cloth napkin I’d dropped in my lap.
“I can’t do it.”
“Sedona?” He sat back, pulling his beer with him, but not taking a drink yet.
“Yeah. Too far. I mean if Death is going to be handling all the god powers while I’m gone, I think I need to stay relatively nearby.”
He took a drink, waiting. The wind plowed over the roofing, tugging at the gutters and power lines.
“That makes sense. I’m not asking for the moon, Laney. I mean, unless we could book the moon.”
I grinned. “Terrible restaurants on the moon.”
“Oh?”
“No atmosphere at all.”
He blinked. Blinked again. Then he gulped down half his beer and pointed it at me. “That was a terrible joke.”
“No, it was perfect timing. For thegravityof our conversation. Get it? Gravity?”
He shoveled food in his mouth and just shook his head.
I followed his lead and ate dinner, enjoying every bite. I enjoyed the quiet, too, because I needed that sometimes. No questions, no demands, no conversation. Just our safe, comfy house around us. Just the two of us together.
“What about LaPine?” he finally asked. “The cabin. It’s in a little forested area overlooking a glade. Hot tub on the deck. Out in the middle of almost nowhere. All the privacy we could want.”
I sighed, picked up my beer and sipped. “Sounds like heaven. What days is it reserved for?”
“Tomorrow through Sunday.”
“Four whole days?”
“Well, I could extend the stay. I just wasn’t sure you would be willing to stay away any longer.”
