Page 85 of Bonds of Magic
She blinked and said in disbelief, “Maybe you’re not so useless after all.”
18
NOAH
Have fun in Pointe Claudette tonight.
Cory’s words rang in my ears as I pulled up to the Balsam Inn later that evening. What the hell had he meant? How had he even known I was coming here tonight?
It was cold when I got out of my car. The temperature had dropped back down to January lows, and there was a bite to the air. Not a night to be outside longer than you could help it.
I crossed the lot, the gravel mixed with months-old ice, frozen in rough gray smears. The wood stairs creaked as I walked up them, that particular noise wood only makes in single-digit temperatures.
I opened the door and scanned the bar. A couple was playing pool on the far side of the room. Tom was behind the bar, as expected. And Lew was absent from his usual table—again. I didn’t want to admit it, but that was a relief. Even though we were nevertogether, I still felt like I was avoiding an ex.
Well, he deserved better than me anyway. Maybe now he’d look for it.
I walked to the bar and watched Tom pull a cherry pie with a towering pile of whipped cream out of the pastry case. Two slices had been cut from it and the cherries glistened an unnatural red under the neon lights of the bar.
“Want a slice?” he asked. “It’s a couple of days old. Figured I’d take it home, but if you want any…”
“I’m good,” I said, waving away the offer.
Tom nodded, then moved to pour me a beer, but I waved that away too.
“You on some kind of a diet?”
“Nah, just not here for a beer.”
“You barely finished your beer last time you were here, and tonight you’re not gonna drink at all?” He gave me a sidelong look. “Lew ain’t here, you know.”
“I know.”
I hadn’t realized how set my pattern was until I’d broken it. I’d never come to the Balsam Inn for just a beer. It was always to wait on Lew to show up. If Lew got there first, I never drank a thing.
How predictable. How pathetic.
“Out of town,” Tom continued. “For a few days. And the spare room’s been rented anyway.”
“About that,” I said. “Do you know who’s renting it?”
He looked at me like I’d asked if the sun rose in the east. “‘Course I do, boy. I’m the one that rented it to her.”
“So it’s a her.”
Tom frowned. “That mean something to you?”
“It might. Can you tell me her name?”
“I certainly can,” he said. “But I won’t, unless I’m convinced you’ve got a good reason for asking. Do you?”
“I’m trying to get in touch with her. Need to ask her something.”
“You’re trying to get in touch with a woman whose name you don’t know?” Tom arched an eyebrow. “I thought your taste ran more to fellas than gals. Am I wrong about you?”
“No, it’s—I mean, I’m actually—no,” I stuttered. I wasn’t here to give a lecture on bisexuality. “That’s not why I want to see her.”
“Then why do you?”
