I gave her the finger, but the blush just kept climbing. "You're impossible."
"Now I'm not joking," she pressed, "is this something that could get serious?"
That question practically sizzled. "I mean, he's amazing. The girls adore him. I'm, yeah, I'm already nuts about him. But it's not love, Gerty. It's been three days. I barely know the man. Sure, we had earth-shattering sex, but that doesn't mean?—"
"Wait, back it up," she squeaked. "Earth-shattering sex? Tash Winters, youdog."
If mortification could kill, I'd be toast.
She grinned, not sorry at all. "Fine, I'll keep my mouth shut till Beth gets here. But you'd better believe I'm telling her every detail."
I snorted, trading wink for wink. "Deal."
We moved her stuff upstairs to the Mere's room, talking logistics the whole time. When was Beth rolling into town? Christmas Eve, early. Had Gerty heard from her stalker since hitting the road? Nope, but she'd parked two blocks away and doubled back to make sure nobody followed. Was she really okay living out of boxes? Better than risking a run-in with him on her way to the mailbox.
She repeated her offer to move out as soon as she found steady work, but I shut it down. "Seriously, thisplace is yours. I'm not even here." I meant it, too. The thought of her stashed safe in my rental while we weathered supernatural puberty at the Meyer compound just made sense.
She agreed to always check the porch cam before opening the door, rolling her eyes, "Yes, Tash, I'll be very careful. Now scoot back off to your hot date."
Driving away, I replayed every single turn of that conversation, like maybe if I analyzed it sideways, I could figure out how I'd missed any of Gerty's pain. It was always easier to spot the cracks in your own windows, but your best friend's? You just assumed they were bulletproof.
I pulled up to Chance's house with a new kind of nerves. ]I fumbled with the key, then tiptoed upstairs, praying the girls wouldn't pop out before I finished pulling myself together.
And there it was, on the dresser in my temporary bedroom. A small vase full of wild violets. Sweet scented, vivid colors, with a folded note tucked under the vase.
I stopped so fast Huey nearly rear-ended me. He sniffed the air, then plopped down on the rug, officially bored with romance.
My heart did a cartwheel. I touched one petal, velvet-soft, and nearly cried. Not because I was sad, butbecause nobody had ever done something like that for me before. It was old-fashioned and simple. It was perfect.
The note was simple.
"For you. –C."
I sat on the edge of the bed and let myself breathe for a few minutes. I'd just been smacked by a truckload of real life. Friend crisis, magic children, and I was about to go on an actual date and maybe have to eat food without getting crumbs all over myself.
Wardrobe panic set in immediately. I yanked the closet open and surveyed my options. Damn it, why didn't I grab something else while I was at the house? I'd brought four work blouses, one dress that might be cute if I could find tights, two pairs of jeans, and zero lingerie that wasn't at least a little bit frayed. Why hadn't I packed more? Why did I own so much navy blue?
I finally settled on the dress. Silky, the color of eggplant, soft but not clingy, with sleeves that made my arms look more muscular and less "exhausted single mom." I laid it out, then hunted for the pair of shoes that didn't scream, "I chase a dog through the woods for fun." Huey watched, totally unhelpful.
Makeup next. I brushed my hair out. Halfway through applying eyeliner, I caught my own eye in the mirror and froze. Was I really doing this? Was I actually, honestly, about to go on a date with the man who'd blown up every assumption I'd ever made about the world?
My cheeks went scarlet, and memory flashed through me. Chance holding me against my bedroom wall, hands everywhere, gentle but not gentle, a kind of desperation that I'd never felt before. My knees buckled a little just thinking about it.
I had to laugh. If this was what "moving too fast" felt like, I'd take it.
Eyeliner done, I sprayed a whiff of perfume and slid my feet into the shoes. Nothing fancy, just solid, just me.
One last check in the mirror. The woman staring back was still me, more alive. Less worried.
I gave Huey a pat on the head, took one soft touch of the violets just to ground myself, and headed down the stairs.
Dinner with Chance Meyer.
A risk worth taking.
Tash
Chance waitedfor me in the living room. The fire snapped behind the grate, shadows working overtime to play up the lines of his shoulders. His dark Henley stretched across his chest, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and, God help me, it made the rest of the room fade out.
