Page 53 of Hooked on a Demon
Clearing his throat, Declan nods. “Yes. Must have been a stray fleck that was floating around.” June eyes him, not believing the lie for a second, but Sebastian buys it. “Can you grab a broom and do a final sweep to make sure we got it all? Can’t have a child getting sawdust in their eyes…” he trails off.
“Yes, boss. Right on it, boss.” Sebastian scampers off in search of a broom as Declan turns away and quickly dabs at his eyes with his sleeve.
He hears June approach before he feels her hand lightly touch his shoulder. “You and your team did great work.”
Turning to face her, he replies, “Thank you. They—we—were so happy we could help.”
She steps toward some fake trees off to the side that are to be used in one of the contemporary pieces, according to Eliana. Her hands run over painted wood. “This looks so real. I could have sworn it was actual bark here.”
“I know. I never knew my staff were so talented. I fear that now that I’ve opened this door for them, I may lose their expertise at the shop to more creative endeavors. The sheer joy they exuded every time we were in here was palpable. Like its own living entity in the room.”
“I can tell. It takes true passion to create pieces like these. Perhaps your true calling lies beyond the machinery, Mr. Grace.”
He chuckles. Not uncomfortably, but the idea had never occurred to him. He’s had a love of cars and machinery, of figuring out how things worked and how to put them back together, for as long as he could remember. It’s part of why Lachlan helped him to set up the shop in the first place. He knew that if Declan was that passionate about something, that he’d never let it fade to the wayside. That Declan would put whatever he could into it to make sure it succeeded. And that he has.
Hellbent Motors, as much as it can be a time sink and source of frustration and exhaustion, is where his passion lies. It’s where he finds peace. Solace. It helps him calm the beast inside that constantly wants to rage.
June watches him consider the idea of being an artist, and the corner of her lip knowingly quirks up, “Something to think about.”
“Perhaps. Though I think my preference is still with machinery. I may have a skill with a saw and wood, but to me, the mechanics of machines, the whirring and buzzing, the clicking and spinning, is its own kind of art.”
She nods. “Fair enough.”
“Anyway, we are thrilled you like it all. Eliana shared your vision and was a great guide in the process. We would consider it an honor to partner with your studio again in the future. But until then, the stage is yours.”
“Thank you. And I will be reaching out soon to see how we can team up in the future,” she replies, heading down the stairs at the side of the stage.
“I look forward to it.”
She waves over her shoulder and heads up the aisle toward the door. Stopping before she leaves, she turns back to him and, projecting her voice, she says, “Don’t let her get away, Mr. Grace. She’s a good one.”
She doesn’t wait for him to respond before she exits, leaving him alone on the stage.
* * *
Declan pulls into the grocery store parking lot, turns off his motorcycle, kicks the kickstand down, and slides his helmet off. Locking his helmet in place, he darts inside to the flower display. He’s not sure what her favorite flowers are, but he knows she reminds him of the bright orange and yellow ones, so he chooses a bunch of each and makes his way to the checkout.
A buzz from his pocket catches his attention. He switches the flowers over to his other hand while he digs out his phone, not so subtly hoping it’s a message from Eliana.
Everest
Hey Daddy. You free tonight?
Declan groans. With the frequency at which Everest interrupts Declan’s plans, he wouldn’t be surprised if Ev is secretly some kind of magical being with the ability to tell the future. Of course, he only uses those powers to ruin Declan’s plans.
He steps to the side, placing the flowers on a stack of cereal boxes, and types out his response.
Declan
Hey
Yeah I’m not feeling the greatest. Gonna call it an early night.
You need anything?
Fuck. Even when he’s unknowingly a pain, the guy still cares.
Nah. I’m good.
