Her pen tap, tap, tapped across the paper, counting the boxes. “I think it’s perennial,” she said.
“That’s when they come back annually,” I explained. “They still lose their leaves. It’s definitely evergreen.” Craning my neck toward the window again, I peeked through the dust-caked blinds to check the status of the sidewalk couple. The woman ripped what must have been a ring off her hand and flung it to the ground, sending the man scrambling. I winced on his behalf.
“It fits.” Colette gave her pen a click.
“What does?”
“Perennial,” she said. “Nine letters.”
I ticked them off in my head. Sure enough. But no. Still wrong.
“That doesn’t mean…” When I looked back, she was already writing it in, so I shrugged. “Sure, go with it.”
We lapsed into quiet again.
It had been three days since my visit to the Devil’s Dollhouse, and I hated to admit the hot-bodied incubus had been living rent-free in my head ever since.
Not that I’d actuallyadmittedit. To anyone. Hell, I barely admitted it to myself. For one, I didn’t know where to start. And two, it felt ridiculous to realize that the so-called “adequate” sex had since been the subject of all my dreams—and more than a few daytime fantasies.
Matters were not helped when the Strip-adjacent billboard advertising the club got an unexpected facelift. Theold image featured the club’s logo beside a group pose of the five headliners, but it had been updated to include the newest addition: the redheaded devil who seemed determined to haunt me.
It was a flattering picture. Maybe retouched. I thought back to the dark club and the gloomy bedroom, trying to recall Cherry’s face. Had his hair been quite that richly red? Did his eyes really sparkle like faceted amethysts? Had he smiled the way he did for the camera, showing a hint of his sharp teeth?
He had a cute fucking smile, even if the sight of it made my finger throb.
“What are you grinning about?” Colette asked, bringing self-awareness that punched the air out of me.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
Colette leaped up, newspaper forgotten, and went to the window. Parting the blinds, she scanned the horizon while I braced for her inevitable deduction.
“New kid.” She turned, wearing a smile that was far too perceptive for my liking. “Heispretty, Beck.”
“I know.” I gave my computer mouse a nudge, stirring the thing to life.
Colette continued staring through the glass, making appreciative sounds that grated on me. “Look at those lips,” she murmured. “Cheekbones…Magnifique.”
“I know.”
The computer screen populated a FreeCell game I’d started yesterday then apparently forgotten. Was this how I intended to spend the rest of eternity? Rotting in this chair? Fading into this room? Stealing glances out the window at a larger-than-life glamor shot of the man who had taken the stage in my brain?
Unacceptable.
The cruise brochure rested near the lip of the wire waste bin. Maybe not a singles sailing, but Iwasoverdue for a holiday. Something to dig myself out of this rut.
Colette glanced over her shoulder, looking terribly smug. “When are you going back?”
To the Dollhouse?
“I’m not.”
“Oh.” She tutted softly. “Pity.”
Rocking forward, I braced my elbows on the chair’s armrests and scowled. “You should be glad I’m staying away. I nearly got my finger removed by an incutwink with an oral fetish.” Her snicker didn’t stop me from tagging on. “It’s not a good look, Coll. Did I mention how young he is?”
She stepped away from the window to stand with her arms folded. “Mmm,” she hummed. “Perhaps.”
I grabbed the mouse and selected a card at random, dragging it across the screen and muttering, “Too young for me, that’s for damn sure.”
