Page 87 of The Devil Went Down to Laughlin
The air here was probably twenty degrees cooler than it had been down in Las Vegas, and the breeze that rustled through the pines smelled amazing.
Maybe he should think about getting a cabin up here. He enjoyed Vegas, but, as Delia had just said, sometimes it felt damn good to have a change of scenery.
First things first, though.
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “Let’s go ahead and get all this set up.”
They wound along the path, skipping past the picnic tables that were closer to the parking lot. Caleb had inspected the layout as best he could using Google Maps, and he knew there was one table set at the very end of the picnic area, one where the forest crowded close on almost all sides and would give them the privacy they needed.
However, he hoped Delia wouldn’t suspect he had any ulterior motives for choosing that table over all the other ones, except maybe a desire to get as close to nature as possible.
To his relief, no one else had claimed that table. The forest wasn’t silent, not with the breeze murmuring in the treetops and birds singing happily among the pines and junipers, but still, a quiet existed out here that they would never have been able to enjoy in the city.
He was also glad they’d come…even if this ended messily.
But he put those doubts aside as best he could, and laid a cloth over the tabletop and set out all the goodies he’d bought at the deli and at Sprouts. Delia looked on with an appreciative eye, but when he set out the bottle of wine, one eyebrow lifted slightly.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to drink in these picnic areas.”
“You’re not,” he said blithely. “But I didn’t see hide nor hair of a park ranger as we came in, and if we get busted, well, I’ll deal with it then.”
Her mouth twitched, although she didn’t offer any other protests and merely said, “This all looks gorgeous.”
He had to admit that it did. At first, he’d thought of simply getting them sandwiches, but he’d thought that didn’t seem very romantic and that it would be better to set up some kind of mini charcuterie board.
“Well, I’m not a pro at this,” he said, “but that deli has some great stuff.”
“It definitely looks that way.”
She sat down on the bench attached to the picnic table while he got out the wine and poured them a couple of glasses. Since she hadn’t turned it down and told him she only wanted water — which he’d also brought along — he guessed she was fine with breaking that teeny little rule, too.
After all, they weren’t going to hurt anything. They’d clean up the site when they were done, and no one would be the wiser. It wasn’t as if they were a couple of high school kids who’d snuck up here to drink beer and leave a bunch of bottles behind.
He handed one of the glasses to her. “I think we need to have a toast.”
Her blue-gray eyes glinted at him. Although she had a pair of sunglasses tucked into the neckline of her shirt, she wasn’t wearing them now, probably because her baseball cap with that fun little hummingbird shielded her from the sun well enough.
“Sure,” she said as she held her glass high. “What’re we toasting?”
He wanted to say, You, but guessed that wouldn’t go over too well, especially since he hadn’t made any declarations of love yet.
“To beating the bad guys,” he said.
“I’ll definitely drink to that.”
They clinked glasses and drank some of the pinot noir. It was fruity and medium-bodied, something he thought should go well with the bread and cheese and meat and the fruit as well.
For a minute or so, they were quiet as they put various morsels on their plates, then ate. He wanted to drink in every detail of Delia’s appearance — her smooth ivory skin, the coppery shimmer of her hair as her ponytail hung down her back, her graceful fingers as she picked up pieces of bread and meat and cheese.
But he knew staring at her would only make her wonder what the hell was going on, so he did his best to act casual and as though this outing wasn’t anything more than a friend taking another friend to a place where she could relax and truly breathe.
“You really think everything’s going to work out in Laughlin?” she asked. She’d paused to wipe her fingers on a napkin and take off her baseball cap, probably because a few clouds had drifted in and were doing a decent job of blocking the sun. “Do you think Aaron’s cousin will be able to handle the responsibility of being the river guardian?”
At least Caleb thought he could reassure Delia on those points. “Her family’s been doing this for generations,” he said. “Also, you had a vision of her being chased away by Sellers’ minions. They wouldn’t have bothered to get her out of the way if she weren’t a threat to them. And, like I told her, I can come give her a hand if she needs one…even though I doubt it’ll come to that. So I think she’s going to do just fine.”
A nod, and Delia reached for her glass of wine and sipped from it. “That’s good. Because I really wasn’t looking forward to having to drop everything and relocate to Laughlin just to hold back a bunch of demons.”
Did he dare hope that part of the reason she wanted to stay in Las Vegas was because he lived there as well?
