Page 19 of Minions and Magic
“Darned demons.” I headed for the sink, but there was a smile on my face and a skip in my step. I really didn’t care about the dishes. What I cared about was tomorrow. Would he really be back? Could he actually cook, or was I going to have to choke down a bologna sandwich?
I hoped he could cook. And pride aside, I hoped he won.
Chapter 10
Xavier
It took every bit of my willpower to walk out of that witch’s home. I’d had many humans in my life, I’d enjoyed bodies, collected souls, given pleasure with one hand and torment with the other. But never in my incredibly long existence had I ever felt this magnetic pull toward someone. Never had I felt such peace and calm as in her kitchen, helping her cook. There wasn’t just magic in her food, it was inher. It was in every motion she made, every word she spoke, every breath she took. With the act of creating food, she spun a spell of contentment and happiness over the entire house, painting it with vibrant colors and channeling all that into the delicious concoctions she made.
Glenda. Named, no doubt, after the good witch from that Oz movie I’d watched years ago. Shewasa good witch, and I was experiencing very conflicting emotions about that. The old crossroads demon in me wanted to corrupt her, to sleep with her and leverage her pride to secure her soul. The demon that I barely recognized as me wanted to curl up with her on a soft bed and spend the rest of my life watching her as she fashioned delicious foods with a wave of her hands.
I had work to do. There were humans ready to make deals. There were souls who needed to be collected, contracts that were reaching their conclusion. But I desperately wanted to go back there. I’d get as much done as I could tonight, then I’d return to her house tomorrow.
And then I might never leave.
Chapter 11
Glenda
I’ll admit that I was a little surprised to see Xavier at my door the next morning.
Yesterday had been a dream—a very happy dream that I hadn’t wanted to end. But I didn’t have the best luck when it came to romance, so I fully expected to never see the demon again. I’d never been so happy to be wrong.
“So, what are we doing today? Besides me winning our lunch bet and us spending the afternoon in bed.” He clapped his hands together and strode into my house as if he belonged there. “Are we going to cook more gnome food? Human food? Martian food?”
I chuckled, shutting the front door and following him. “I’ve got no idea what Martians eat, but I’m pretty sure if I knew, I’d make the best feast they’d ever had.”
Something sparked in his blue eyes—something I wasn’t sure I liked.
“We’re finishing the slugs today, and cooking the bread,” I told him.
“So the menu for the gnome birthday party is slugs, pickled turnips, bread, and sour cherry pie?” He counted them off on his fingers.
“It’s more basic than most of my other parties,” I agreed. “I also need to get going on the smoked meats for the big werewolf event this Saturday. I’ve got brisket, trout, and pork loin that all need to be dry rubbed and put in the smoker.”
“Brisket?” he asked, that odd gleam back in his eyes.
I nodded.
He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, then shook his head, a sheepish grin curling up the corners of his gorgeous lips. “Never mind. Let’s get cooking. What can I do to help?”
We finished the sauce for the slugs and put them in to bake. We laughed over taste testing the turnips, debated the proper amount of vanilla to add to a custard, and prepared four different varieties of barbeque sauce for the werewolf party on Saturday.
Finally it was noon, and I felt my heart skip a beat as I realized there was no delaying our little contest. Not that I wanted to delay our contest, but the butterflies in my stomach meant I was absolutely not hungry at all. For food, that is.
“So…how does this contest work?” I asked a bit breathlessly. “It’s lunch time. Should we both use the same ingredients, or are we free to use anything in the kitchen? What do you want to eat?”
He shrugged. “Anything except slugs?”
I laughed. “You sure? We could sample them once they come out of the oven.”
“No way.” He shuddered. “How about sandwiches? We can use anything we find in the kitchen, and we’ve got thirty minutes to put it together.”
I grinned. Sandwiches. I could totally win this. I’d beat the pants off the guy. Well, I hoped I’d beat the pants off the guy, because that would make victory all the sweeter.
“You’re on.” I bent to pull the panini press out from a lower cabinet while Xavier began pulling ingredients out of the fridge. I deliberately didn’t look, not wanting to be influenced by what he was about to make. Hmmm. What to do, what to do? Turkey? Ham? Roast beef? Or veggie?
In the end I went with a chicken pesto with roasted red peppers and a layer of spinach on ciabatta. Xavier had been whipping something up in the food processor, and I had a little time, so I made a side of pineapple drizzled with honey as my imagination went wild with guesses about what he might be making that required a food processor.
