Maya immediately shook her head. “No. Of course not.”
A slight smile appeared on Harper’s face. The kind she usually filled with tease, putting it on as a prelude to some goading comment.
Now, it contained only a hint of that attitude.
“Then why would I be scared of you?” She pushed her hair behind her ear, shrugging. “I won’t lie and say I’m not curious. I’d obviously like to know. But I want to know the real deal. If I’m going to hear your story, I want to hear it from you rather than someone else. Until you’re ready to tell me… I don’t mind not knowing.”
Maya’s mouth dropped open again. “You’re serious.”
The hint of tease in Harper’s smile blossomed.
“You know me. I love being serious.” She pushed aside Angela’s abandoned glass. “And I also love chatting up pretty bartenders in exchange for free drinks. I’m good at it, too. I’ve gotten a lot of practice lately.”
It took a moment for the words to make sense. The scene was so familiar that it felt like Maya had blinked and been transported right back to St. Louis, sporadically making drinks while spending most of her shift talking to the smiling woman sitting across from her now.
The only difference was that this place was livelier, and Harper was wearing day clothes rather than a silk robe. One she keptaccidentallyopening, as though fishing for Maya to blush, take a peek, or both.
It had been hard to rest in, knowing it had an end date when the fantasy of it all would unravel. But that was gone now. In its absence, she couldn’t help but smile.
“Then you’re in luck. It’s a slow night, so you have my undivided attention.” She picked up a clean glass. “Let me guess… an ice water with lemon?”
The attitude momentarily vanished from Harper’s expression, delight replacing it.
“Good guess. And keep them coming. I have a feeling I’ll be here for a while.”
This evening hadn’t at all turned out as expected. Harper had planned an entire speech before going to the high-rise—something she had never done before. When she knew a fight was inbound, she favored improvisation, letting her tongue spew out whatever venom it wanted.
But Maya was different. The simmering anger of the past few days had cooled as soon as Harper sat down at the bar, and then vanished when she heard the pain in Maya’s voice.
It hadn’t gone far, though. A bit of stoking was all it took to get it back.
“I can’t fucking believe him,” Harper said. “Kieranstabbedyou?Twice?”
Maya shrugged. “I did attack him first, to be fair.”
“Fuck being fair. That he could walk away tells me you went too easy on him.”
Harper sipped on her ice water. Maya had remade the drink several times over, since Harper kept forgetting about it, which caused the ice to melt.
As it turned out, the ease of their conversations hadn’t just come from them shirking on their work responsibilities. One moment it was early evening, the next it was nearing midnight.
“Did it hurt?” Harper asked, glancing at Maya’s hand and the scar cutting over the back of it. It wasn’t the same red color aswhen she’d seen it last. Instead, it looked aged. As though it had been there for years rather than a few days.
Maya grimaced. “Yeah, it did. A lot, actually. Normal weapons just hurt, with wounds caused by silver or the teeth and claws of monsters being the only ones that stick. The only ones that leave scars. That’s our only weakness, other than sunlight and stakes.”
“Formostvampires,” Harper said. “You’re special. Remember?”
Maya’s eyes unfocused. “I’m not that special, Harper.”
Her tone took a moment to identify. It wasn’t sad, exactly. More complacent. As though she thought of her words as fact and had accepted them as such a long time ago.
“I think you are.” She took Maya’s hand and turned it over, running her thumb over the scar on her palm. “And, for what it’s worth, I think scars are kind of hot.”
Warmth returned to Maya’s eyes. “How fortunate. I don’t have many regulars, so I’m glad I appeal to the ones I have.”
There was a lot of information in that sentence. Plenty of lewd comments it could invite, as well as several fun directions it could be taken in. But instead, Harper’s attention locked in on one specific word.
Maya saidregulars. Plural.
