“Is that someone your mother?” I raise a single eyebrow as he sputters, and I huff out a laugh. “That's what I thought. We're clearly not compatible,Brandon. Thank you for the coffee.”
I don't know why I'm thanking him. I bought my own cup when I got here sinceBrandonwas ten minutes late. That's about the moment I should have left. Except I wasn't sure if Omen had actually gone back to Hell. The last thing I wanted to do was slink home in disgrace because I couldn't pick a decent guy to go out with. I'm doing it now, but Omen is less likely to know about it. I can eat a pint of ice cream and mourn the loss of my dating life in peace.
“Wait, you're leaving? I think you're making a big mistake. Why don't you sit down and we can get on the same page?”
“I'd rather not. You're looking for a mother and I'm looking for a partner. It's perfectly fine to wait for someone who…meshes with you better.”
I push to my feet and catch the barista's eye. She gives me a not-so-subtle thumbs up. Hopefully I won't have to drag her into this.
“No, no. You don't get to reject me. Ireject you. That's how this works. Now, why don't we go someplace we can talk privately? I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me.” He shoves his chair back and stands before reaching out for me.
Instinctively, I step back, almost tripping over my own chair. “No, thank you. I'm going home and so should you. Or go have a couple free drinks at your club.”
Rage flashes across his face, twisting his lips. As quickly as it came, his expression dissolves into the affable one he had when we first met. If it wasn’t for the barista behind the counter, I might be worried. He runs a hand through his light brown hair as he glances away.
“If you change your mind, you have my number,” he mumbles, suddenly looking contrite. Part of me feels bad. Then I remember he tried to get me to hook up with him in exchange for me doing his laundry. I don't have the best track records with washers right now, so it's probably for the best.
“Have a good night,” I say softly. I almost blurt out it was nice meeting him, but I catch myself at the last second. I make it a point not to lie if I can help it. If he turns into a misogynistic prick again, I'll do anything to get away from him.
I wave to the barista, then walk out the door without a backward glance. I'm kicking myself for not driving. Now I'll have to walk home, looking over my shoulder every few minutes. Brandon probably won't come after me. If he does, well, I'll just have to hex him. I'm sure the book has something I could use if that doesn’t work.
It takes me twice as long to get home with these heels, but I let out a sigh of relief when I turn onto my gravel road. Not the greatest footwear decision for this trek. I pick up the pace when my vine-covered cottage comes into view. My muscles relax and I lope up to the front door. With a protection spell in place, I feel a lot better about how I ended my date. The worst Brandon will be able to do is scream on my front lawn.
As soon as I'm inside, I kick off my shoes and struggle to reach the zipper on my dress. I can only get it a few inches down and I realize I might have to rip it to get it off. Summoning mydemon—no,thedemon—isn't an option. I have to stop seeing Omen as my backup plan.
My body flushes at the thought of him and I'm still trying to convince myself to forget about him when I stop short just inside my bedroom. My mouth drops open at Omen sprawled across my bed. I smother a chuckle with my hand when I spot his cat perched under his arm. He didn't strike me as a cat person. I make a note to ask what the cat's name is, since I can't keep calling him Handsome or Sunshine or Kitty Cat.
Omen looks different in his sleep. There's a softness to his features I haven't seen before. I wander closer until my shins brush against my comforter. Handsome stretches and yawns, blinking dark eyes in my direction. His squishy little face and his fluffy fur make me want to scoop him up and cuddle him. He'd make me feel better after my disaster of a date. He'd probably scratch the hell out of Brandon if I asked. I wonder if he's a hellcat. It would make sense.
I sigh, shaking my head. It's not like it matters. Omen will take the cat when he goes. From the way he was acting when he asked me for fries, he doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want me summoning him, and I need to respect that. Which means I definitely shouldn't touch him, no matter how much I want to.
Still, I reach out my fingers. A shout from outside has me yanking my hand back. Omen doesn't move, and I swallow hard before I spin around. I'm playing with fire. I slip from the room, wondering if I should wake him. There's more yelling from outside, though I can't make out the words. By the time I reach the living room and peek through the curtains, the noise has died down.
“Motherfucker,” I whisper harshly.
Brandon, fists on his hips and face flushed beyond recognition, is screaming at my house. He must have followed me home. What an asshole. I squint, trying to figure out whathe's saying. Something about owing him and demanding to be let in. I jerk back when he rushes the door. My protection spell will keep him out. He won't even get up the stairs.
Omen's cat winds around my leg and I yelp. Seconds later, Brandon attacks my door. Fear drenches me when the handle jiggles and I stumble back. My arms pinwheel as I fall over the coffee table. The cat yowls as it tangles with my feet, and I end up flipping over completely. Brandon hasn't given up, still pounding on the door.
I groan as my hair tumbles around me, free of the clip I trapped the strands in. As I push to my feet, my dress tears at the zipper and I wince. I glance over my shoulder, trying to gauge the damage. It's in no danger of falling off, so I leave it as I stomp toward the door.
Maybe my protection spell wore off or Brandon isn't quite what he seems. Doesn't matter since I'm going to send him packing. For all his bellyaching, I don't think he's going to hurt me. My protection spell failing is scarier, honestly. One man can't be that bad. By the time I reach the door, he's stopped. Something thumps against the door and soft sobs echo through the wood. I hesitate, then turn the knob.
Brandon's tear-streaked face and disheveled hair greet me. His gaze travels over my face, then dips to my chest before coming back to my face. Slowly, his eyes scan behind me, and I wonder if he's about to push into my house. I brace myself for him to attack. Despite how pathetic he looks, he could still hurt me. Alarm flashes across his face and he tucks his chin to his chest, then glances over my head and lets out a shuddering sigh.
“Something we can help you with, Brian?” Omen's deep voice rumbles through me, making me shiver, and Brandon swallows hard. “I didn't think so.”
Islam the door shut, then wrap my arm around Clara's waist. She doesn't fight me for once, just melts into my chest. I carry her back to her bedroom before I set her on her feet. Her shoulders slump when I step away. I can't trust myself to keep hold of her. And not for the usual reasons.
I don't know how her date went, but I can guess. I also don't know why I passed out on her bed instead of going back to Hell. Either way, I'm glad I'm still here. Clara would have ended up confronting him and who knows what that asshat would have done. Why she doesn't have protection spells on her house is beyond me. As far as I know, it's pretty common for witches.
“Stay here,” I growl, then stomp from the room. Of course she doesn't listen.
My shadows snap out and shove her back on the bed. A string of curses falls from her lips and I smirk. They won't keep her there, but I have little control over them right now what with the rage rolling through me. My body still hasn't adjusted to time inthis dimension. If I don't settle in one place for a while, I'll end up stuck. I don't know what would be worse, here or Hell. At least in Hell, I wouldn't be tempted to bed anyone.
I know the exact moment my shadows snap back into my body. Seconds later, Clara's footsteps scamper after me. My wings unfurl, hoping to keep her at bay. I'd rather not have her interfere while I deal with Brandon. She'll try to step in and just get in the way.
I rip open the door to find Brandon collapsed on her front stoop. I glance over my shoulder. “Why don't you have a porch? Isn't that a witch thing?”
