Page 32 of Cookbooks and Demons

Helena paused to look at him. “Well there’s a visual,” she said. “Didn’t they believe in shirts in 1600s?”

Her demon leveled a glare at her. “Yes, we wore shirts.”

“And the little necktie thing right? Cravat?” She grinned, enjoying herself way too much. “Well since we aren’t going to a historical re-enactment themed restaurant, let’s find something a little more modernfor you.”

“Just pick whatever you want. I don’t care. Just pick it and I’ll wear it.” He sighed.

“That sounds like an early days relationship to me,” a store clerk said, a woman with big hair and an even bigger smile, her voice singing out with a small Southern twang. “Now don’t tell me—let me guess.” She looked between the two of them. “You are friends starting to think about dating, but you’re both still on the fence, amI right?”

“No,” Rafferty said, offended, “not evenremotely.”

“We just met a few weeks ago,” Helena said. “Been on three dates so far.”

“We’ve had three meals together,” Rafferty again corrected.

Helena laughed and leaned in to the clerk. “I like them grumpy. They’re just so cute when they’re grumpy.”

The clerk’s smile didn’t falter. “Well, it takes all kinds, doesn’t it? Now my name is Honey, and how can I be of assistance today?”

“She says I need better clothes to go to this high-end restaurant she got reservations for,” Raffertyreported.

“Well, while you cut a dashing figure, I can see why she’s concerned. They might think you were one of the wait staff,” Honey said, slapping his arm lightly as she laughed at herown joke.

Rafferty didn’t react. For a brief moment, Helena thought he was going to flare his demon-aura or something, but Honey didn’t even seem to notice.

“So do you know your size, sugar lips?” she asked, already pulling out a tape measure attached to her wrist to pull across his shoulders.

“Uh, no,” Rafferty said uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry. Most men don’t. Or what they tell me is dead wrong.” Without asking permission, she stuck her arms under his and wrapped her measuring tape around his waist. “Hmm, darling, you smell good,” she declared. “Like rosemary and thyme. Youa baker?”

“He’s a cook,” Helena corrected. “He’s a self-study.”

“Got a YouTube channel?” Honey asked, looping her measuring tape around his chest, then slipping it out to dance down his arms. “Hold your arm out, honeypot.”

“I like this,” Helena said, pointing at a dark suit on one of the mannequins. “Black suit with black shirt and black tie. Very mysterious chic.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just let’s get on with it!” he growled, jumping away from Honey as she knelt down before him to measure his inseam.

“Okay, okay,” Honey said, holding her hands out. “We’ll do the black suit. I can eyeball the rest.” That last was directed at the area he wanted her to avoid, giving him a smug smileinstead.

“You’re wrong,” Rafferty said as Honey finally wandered off to a rack of dark-colored shirts.

“About what?” Helena asked.

“There are some things worse than hell.”

Chapter 18

Trying on Clothes is Hot

Helena waited in a chair in the changing area, sitting next to the tri-fold mirrors. Changing rooms like this always seemed to have a set.

“How’s it going?” she called into the sizable stall where Rafferty had disappeared.

All that came back was silence. She leaned forward a little to glance under the door, and she saw his socked feet standing there, already slipped into pants.

“Raffie?” she called gently. ““Do you need help?”

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