He's a demon. No matter how many times I remind myself of that, I can't seem to stop. Thankfully, I've caught myself before I've summoned him again. I could have used his help to clean the gutters, which are still clogged. Or maybe help me with the vines covering the outside of my house. If I let them fester, they'll destroy my foundation, at least that's what the video I saw said. Doesn't mean he hasn't invaded every part of my brain, especially at night. I catch myself wondering what he's doing, if he's thinking about me, whether or not he wants me. It's unhealthy.
I've successfully kept Omen's name out of my mouth. Until today, and I didn't even mean to. My neighbor a mile down the road called about my package being delivered to her house. She asked what I was doing for the holiday. It took me a minute to figure out she was talking about the town festival, which is technically not a holiday. I don't even know why I was confessing anything to her. We're not friends, really. She keeps to herself mostly, enjoying her retirement. Before I knew it, though, she'd pulled the details from me and I accidentally said Omen's name. It was embarrassing even if she didn't understand.
“Have you heard of him?” Brandon's voice cuts through my thoughts and I tilt my head.
“Mhm.” I nod, forcing a polite smile on my face. I feel like a bobblehead, but I’m liable to fall asleep if I don’t move. “What do you do for work again?”
Annoyance flashes in his light eyes before he can hide it. “A club. Now, as I was saying?—”
I tune him out again, making sure I nod and grunt every once in a while. My gaze wanders toward the barista behind the counter. Our eyes meet and she winces, then holds up a sign. I squint to make out the writing.
Need help?
I almost snort, then subtly shake my head. Her brows pull low and she rolls her eyes. At least I have one person waiting in the wings to save me if need be. Early on, I thought about just summoning Omen here. No one around here knows I'm a witch, though. Even if they did, I doubt a demon showing up in their midst would go over well. Besides, I don't need him coming in like a knight in shining armor. I straighten my shoulders, reminding myself I'm a strong, independent woman.
“He came into one of my clubs a few weeks ago. I'm sure you've never experienced something like that before. I could get you in if you'd like, though you'd have to wear something a bit…sexier.” He smirks as if I'll agree with him. Besides the fact this black shift dress is the sexiest one I have, I'm not really the club type of girl.
Maybe he's just nervous and really, reallybad at flirting. I pull in a deep breath, hoping I can salvage this. It doesn't matter if I never see Omen again. I may not have a future with a demon, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't have a future at all.
“You own a club? What's that like?”
He laughs a little too loud. “I'm the one who decides who's good enough to come into the club. Plus, I get free drinks.”
“Oh, you're a bouncer?” Not that I care. Being a bouncer isn't something to be ashamed of, but Brandon seems like it's a great affront to his character.
He flushes, then puffs out his chest. “No, I'm a supervisor. Head Supervisor.”
“Wow. That must be…a lot of work.”
His eyes narrow as if he doesn't quite believe me. “I practically own the place. I just didn't want the responsibility of paperwork. Not that you'd understand that.”
“Does that work?” I blurt out, and he gives me a confused look.
“Does what work?”
Fuck it.“Insulting women. I'm just wondering if that works. Do women swoon around you or fall into your bed more if you insult them? I'm genuinely curious.”
“Listen, sweetie?—”
“Not a great start,” I mumble.
He continues on as if I didn't speak. “I know this might be hard for you to grasp, but I'm doing you a favor here. It's not an insult to recognize one’s shortcomings. And with the right partner, one can seek their full potential. If you let me fill in your empty spaces, the parts of your life you're lacking, then you can do the same for me.”
“What areas are you lacking, Brandon?”
He gives me a disarming grin that makes my skin crawl. “I'm not great at dishes. Or laundry. See, those are the areas you could support me.”
I set my cup down gently, resisting the urge to throw it in his face. I slip my wallet off the table. One of these days I'll learn my lesson. It's not often I go out. Every six months I get a bug up my butt, thinking I need something more in my life. I put myself out there and usually regret it. Actually, I always regret it. Doesn't matter who I meet, they all end up being duds or we don't mesh.
I should give up and resign myself to being alone. It would free me up for a fling with Omen if I had the guts. Which I don't. Omen is off-limits. If I keep reminding myself, maybe it'll finally sink in. Otherwise, I'll continue imagining him sinking into me. A flush travels down my body and settles between my legs.
“One last question, if you will,” I say, leaning forward. “Who does your dishes now?”
“I eat out mostly, which I'm sure you'll appreciate once we get together.”
I nod, pressing my lips together. “And your laundry? Or do you send out for that as well?”
He laughs, but there's a nervous tinge to it now. “I have someone to do that for me.”
