Page 62 of Sigils & Spells

She carefully placed them in the middle of the exceptionally clean counter.

“Let me grab my coat, and we can go.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Go, we needed to go. I promised to buy her dinner, not gape at her like a goldfish gasping for breath.

I followed her back down the hall as she pulled her coat on, like the good puppy I was. She said heel, and I was ready to roll over and give her my belly for a scratching. She closed and locked her door, and then turned to me and slipped her arm into mine.

“I hope you don’t mind walking.” I hadn’t really thought about getting in the car and driving over. It seemed like a waste of time having to try to find parking when we literally lived within a few blocks of each other and the restaurant.

“I have a little trick to keep us dry.”

The twinkle in her eye had me thinking about signing contracts with demons to have her. And I knew better.

It wasn’t until she touched me that I relaxed.

* * *

Pandora

I don’t know if Merle was actually being witty, or if I was in that everything my crush says is funny mode. But he was most entertaining. As we walked toward town and The Cellar, he started to tell me a story about the chickens at the Capitulum.

He had me giggling, and I held onto his arm because I didn’t want him to get away.

At first, I was so nervous, and I figured he had felt that, because he was quiet for a bit. But once we started talking, it was as if we had never been nervous around each other.

We slid into a booth, and I felt like I was on a date, and not at the same place I had lunch at once a week because there weren’t really many choices in town.

We ordered, and the conversation went right back. Maybe it was frivolous topics, but it was easy.

“Okay, I’ve been dying to ask, but a frock coat?”

“It’s original,” he defended his fashion choice.

“It’s dashing,” I offered.

“I always wanted to be a pirate. Or a Shakespearean actor.”

I snorted, I couldn’t help it. “You, Shakespeare? Quote something,” I demanded.

Merle shook his head. “I can’t remember any of the lines. But the man could write the hell out of a scene. He knew romance, banter, and comedy.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Taming of the Shrew,” he said with a half-smile.

Oh, that was a new expression. And it was scrumptious. It did something to his lips that had me wanting to crawl across the table and grab his collar, drag him to me and lick the seam of that smile.

“Whatever you are thinking, I think the answer is yes,” he said. His voice dropped, and I felt the timbre of his words through my entire being.

I stopped chewing on my lip. “You like bossy women?”

“Sharp tongue, soft lips,” Merle crooned.

His low, rumbled words made what was left of my insides liquefy.

“Hey, wait a minute.” I had to try to remember the lines. Asses were made for bearing… no, I wanted the wasp line. “If you’re calling me waspish, best beware my sting.”

“I’m the one with the prick you need to be careful of.” A slow, prideful grin started to cross his lips.

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