Page 24 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
She’d been back in her flat just long enough to change from jeans to sweats before her cell phone rang. She pretended she wasn’t disappointed when she saw the number on the readout, but when he started yelling at her, Ember didn’t have to manufacture the anger that had her yelling right back.
“I told you I was leaving! You didn’t want to go!”
“What? You never said you were leaving!”
“I pointed to the exit!”
“I thought you had to go to the bathroom! I’d never let you wander around the city in the middle of the night by yourself, knucklehead! Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
That took the wind out of her sails. “Oh,” she said, much calmer. “Sorry. I thought I was being clear that I was leaving.”
Asher huffed indignantly. “No, I’m sorry! Your vague hand signals were anything but clear, a friggin’ mime would be more obvious! I thought I’d have a heart attack when you didn’t come back! I spent an hour trying to find you at the club until I finally gave up and came home. And lo and behold, there she was! Sleeping like Goldilocks—”
“Wait, I wasn’t in your bed. What are you talking about?”
There was a short silence. “I used the spare key you gave me to get into your apartment. I just needed to check and see if you were home. And yes, you were—snoring in blissful ignorance, I might add—so I didn’t have to take that extra Xanax—”
“Asher!” Ember stomped her foot, and immediately felt so ridiculous she was grateful there was no one there to see it. “You can’t just sneak in to my bedroom and watch me sleep! This isn’t Twilight, for God’s sake! Do we need to have a talk about boundaries?”
“I wasn’t watching you sleep, I was just checking on you! I just peeked in and then left! Sorry for caring!”
Uh-oh. She knew Seriously Cranky Asher when she heard him. This was a precursor to Arctic Cold Shoulder Asher, who could last an indefinite period of time, in which case she’d only have Dante, her stepmother, and the customers at the store to talk to. Keeping to yourself really had its drawbacks sometimes.
Reining in her temper, she blew out an exasperated breath. “Ash,” she said, in a soft, cajoling voice.
“No,” he said firmly, but she still detected the pout.
“C’mon, don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry I scared you. And I’m glad you care. You know you’re my only friend. Who else will put up with my crap? You said it yourself, you’re my fairy godmother, so you can’t stay pissed. I might need you to turn a pumpkin into a coach one of these days.”
There was a low, disgruntled, hmmpf, but nothing more.
“I’ll make it up to you. How about…” Inspiration hit. “How about if we watch Reservoir Dogs together tonight?” His favorite movies always involved a lot of macho gun-slinging, bromancing, and blood, so he adored anything involving Clint Eastwood, Charles Bronson, or Quentin Tarantino.
His response to her movie invitation was silence.
“And I can order tapas from that place you like down the block.”
More silence. He still wasn’t taking the bait. Ember knew she had to get serious, or risk a pout-fest that could last well into next month. “And…I’ll tell you all about what happened with Christian last night after I left you at the club.”
There was a loud, high-pitched inhalation on the other end of the phone that sounded very much like the noise a vacuum cleaner makes when turned on. She thought her brain might get sucked out through her ear and disappear through the line.
“Christian! Not the Christian?”
At her sound of affirmation, Asher said, “I’m on my way,” and hung up.
It couldn’t have been fifteen seconds before he knocked on the front door. Ember opened it to find him in a peacock blue kimono and bare feet, his face slathered in a thick layer of pale green cream.
“Is that moisturizer?” she asked, stepping back to let him in.
He breezed past trailing the scent of cucumbers and lavender. “Pore-reducing mask. It’s wonderful for the skin tone. You should try it.”
“Is that your way of telling me I have a problem with my pores?”
He swung around and his kimono billowed in a bell around his ankles. Arms akimbo, he looked her up and down. “Honey, your pores are the least of your problems. When are you going to let me take you shopping?”
“Hmm.” She looked at the ceiling, pretending to decide. “How about the Tuesday after never?”
“You are no fun. Seriously, what’s a fairy godmother good for if she can’t buy you a dress for the ball?”
