“Most hot honey is made with honey, chili pepper flakes, and an acid element, usually apple cider vinegar,” I explain. “If Anton gives this another try, which I really think he should, I’d encourage him to make a batch that’s safe for the human tongue. Cut out the sriracha and the Carolina Reaper sauce, okay?”
“Yeah,” he says with a sad nod. “Will do.”
Normally, I would enjoy the sight of a man in visible agony over the choices he’s made, but seeing Nic in this state is unbearable. I want to wrap him up in a blanket and massage his scalp while promising him that everything’s going to be okay. Instead, I grab his face in my hands and say, “Stop stressing, okay? We can easily turn this day around by packing up the picnic and going to that Chinese food place on the edge of town, yeah? There’s no problem good food can’t solve.”
At that, he perks up a bit. “I guess it’s good that I struck out so hard today. Now I know what never to do again.” Under his breath, I hear, “And to never take advice from Riz.”
“What was that?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Riz said all women love roses. All women love picnics. All women love when you cook for them. Now I have proof that none of that is true.”
“Every girl is different,” Jules adds pragmatically. “We don’t all like the same things.”
“Agreed. Whenever someone generalizes like that, especially if they aren’t a woman themselves, I’d just stop listening. Nine out of ten times they’re dead wrong.”
Jules raises an eyebrow at me. “Only nine?” My girl knows me well.
“Fine. Ten out of ten.”
I’m relieved when Nic lets out a deep barrel of a laugh, making it feel like the awkward fog over our picnic has lifted. We hop in his truck and head over to the Chinese restaurant. Nic makes a point of ordering almost everything on the menu so we can try it, and the picnic debacle feels forgotten.
Later, when Jules is fast asleep, I get a text from Nic, asking, “Care to go for a moonlight stroll?”
Jules is conked out.
Nic: Just the two of us then?
I don’t love the idea of leaving Jules alone in our room, but I have left her home alone in our apartment on occasion to run errands. We’re on the second floor of the B&B, and Quinn has been at the front desk every time I’ve come or gone, no matter what time of day it is. Don’t minotaurs require sleep like the rest of us? Maybe not.
I decide to leave Jules a note on my pillow in case she wakes up and notices that I’m gone. I promise to be back in under an hour, because how long could a moonlight stroll actually take?
Nic offers me his arm when I meet him outside. I push up onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek and say, “Glad we get a little alone time.”
He pulls me to the front of his body and lifts me off my feet. “Me too,” he says, his voice like velvet as he presses a quick kiss to my lips. “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”
I brush a finger across the stubble on his chin, and kiss him again, reveling in the minty taste of his lips. “You always taste so good.”
A chuckle bursts out of him, and he gives me a bashful look. “I might be a tad paranoid about tasting or smelling like the powder in the granola bars Dr. Yates makes for me.”
Oh Christ. I hadn’t even considered that. “Did you just have one?”
“No, I had one about three days ago, but there’s certainly an…aftertaste, and the last thing I want is to make it anyone else’s problem.”
“What, um,” I shouldn’t ask. I really shouldn’t. “What does it taste like?”
His gaze darts between my eyes. “Do you really want to know?”
I nod.
“Well, even in powder form, it retains a lot of the original flavor, which is nutty, and a little sweet.”
I’m not sure what I expected brains to taste like, but it wasn’t that.
“The aftertaste is different, though. It’s sharp. Sour.”
Ick. Thank god for those mints he always carries.
He sets me on my feet, and we walk arm in arm, enjoying the quiet. We pass a few people on the sidewalk––those out for dinner or enjoying a walk like us––and I realize how incredibly safe I feel, given the time of day. I don’t think it’s simply Nic’s presence, either. Mapletown might be the only place where Icould walk around by myself at night without keys wedged between my fingers in one hand, gripping pepper spray in the other.
