I stepped forward. “Ready?”
Rohan smiled. “You better be taking me somewhere good because I’m starving.”
I grabbed my black trench coat from the closet, pleasantly surprised when he took it from me to help me put it on. “Better than good.”
Rohan dug his car keys out of his pocket. “I’ll drive.”
“Nope.” I held out my hand. “Keys, please.” His hand tightened on the keychain. I blinked up at him with my widest, cutest eyes. “Pretty please? I did just fine driving the last time.”
He looked visibly pained as he unclenched his fist, allowing the keys to fall into my hand.
I patted his cheek. “Good Snowflake.”
Rohan sighed in defeat and followed me out to the Shelby. His instructions started the second I sat down: seat placement, how to shift gears, the best way to brake. “Be gentle putting in the key. Shelby has a very sensitive ignition.”
“Oh my god, you anthropomorphized her. Do I need to rethink this date?”
“So it is a date.” His eyes gleamed in triumph.
I tossed my hair back. “An unforgettable date.”
He steepled his fingers together. “That’s a bold claim.”
“I’m a bold girl. And my claims are not without merit.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Where are you taking me?”
“We’re going to a fight and then you will be fed delicious food. Happy?”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a boxing aficionado. All right.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go.” He motioned for me to start the car. To his credit, he tried not to flinch as I did.
I patted the dashboard as the car roared to life. “We’re going to be great friends, aren’t we, sweetheart?”
Now for the best part. As the driver, I got to control the music. Rohan ground his teeth but didn’t dispute my choice. Not like the Chet Baker CD wasn’t his to begin with.
All was well as I drove down the driveway and waited for the gate to open. Rohan’s shoulders even descended a fraction of a millimeter, though that may have been wishful thinking. The trouble came when the gate opened revealing a baby barghest, a demon resembling a mangy black lab puppy with large, glowing eyes. It was trying to cross our wards and failing, bouncing off the ward’s invisible shield at our property line.
Luckily, the curve of the road and the press of trees between houses ensured that only someone directly at the foot of our driveway would see these demon attacks on the ward line.
Visitors were discouraged.
The barghest planted himself in the middle of our path and growled.
“Can I keep him?” I asked.
Rohan draped his arm over my shoulders. “A date, a dog. Are you angling for me as the hot not-boyfriend?”
I shifted into gear and ran the demon over. There was a bump, an audible crunch, and a yelp.
The last from Rohan. “I’m driving,” he announced with a steely glare.
I shrugged, amazed I’d even made it this far. We switched places and were off.
Rohan looked a little dubious when I directed him into the strip mall parking lot with the large Asian supermarket anchoring one end. “Did you need to get something?”
“Nope.” I tamped down on my grin, leading him inside past the heaping displays of cookie tins and ramen noodles. I hip checked him out of the way of a petite, elderly Chinese woman, barreling down on us with her grocery cart. “You gotta pay attention,” I admonished. “These women let nothing and no one get in the way of their efficient shopping strategies.”
We veered off from the produce section selling everything from smooth, dark green bok choy to pyramids of earthy taro root, past soya sauce and rice cookers, headed all the way to the back to where bags of frozen gyoza and dim sum dumplings lay stacked in open coolers.
Rohan had slowed down, bafflement clear on his face.
I tugged on his sleeve. “This way.”
I stopped in front of a massive lobster tank, part of the live fish section running the length of the back wall. The suckers were going at it in no-holds-barred grappling, dancing back and forth trying to get purchase and take their opponent down.
His dumbfounded look was the most priceless thing I’d ever seen. I half expected him to pull out his phone and start searching flights right then and there.
“This is the fight?” His voice was a perverse mixture of horror and delight.
“Yup.” I pointed to the two largest lobsters occupying the center of the tank. “On the left, we have Anchorage Al, the comeback kid. He had a bad couple of years.” I mimed glugging back a bottle. “But he’s hungry to regain his title. Thing is, Claws Kowalski over here?”
“Not ready to relinquish the title?” Rohan asked.
“Not even a bit. He’s mean, too. Look at his right hook. Hooks,” I corrected, as the lobster in question waved three legs. “Last chump who got in the ring with Claws lost an eye.”
A beat passed. And another one. And another one. I tamped down my smug grin. Yup, I’m a weirdo, run away.
Except he didn’t. Rohan broke into a deep, rich belly laugh, unlike any I’d ever heard from him. He wrapped one arm around his midsection, shoulders shaking, partially bent over. His laughter echoed through the room, an infectious rumble that had shoppers looking our way, smiles on their own faces.
The young female employee manning the long counter threw me a thumbs up.
Huh?
His laughter rolled through me, stealing the breath from my lungs, and when his sexy, deep laugh mellowed to a sputtering giggle, I put my hand to my heart.
“Lobsters,” he snickered. He shot me a look of pure glee. “Brilliant.”
I recovered with amazing aplomb, rocking back on my heels and hoping it came off as smug and not unmoored. “Told you.”
Rohan waved a hand at the rest of the tanks. “Some real shifty characters taking in the fight today. Like the bookies over here.” He strode over to the tilapia, flashing silver scales as they swam, spinning a story about these low level minions working for the shuffling crabs crammed in one tank over.
He pointed at one crab wedged on the bottom jamming his rubber band-wrapped pincers upwards, trying to get on top of the pyramid. “Trying to claw his way to the top. And this guy?” A runty crab had separated from the pile, wriggling away in the corner. “He likes to go dancing but he pulled a mussel.”
He waggled his eyebrows at me like Fozzie Bear.
Nope. No. Uh-uh.
Snickering as he made crustacean puns was not supposed to be a thing. Hot and broody, easily dismissible, rock god demon hunter. That’s it. No facets. No being able to get nerdy and silly and into this ridiculous date that I’d always wanted to share with someone.
I followed him in growing agitation as he punned his way through the rest of the fish. When we reached the end of the row, I was so worked up that I needed a time out to collect myself. “You hungry?”
He nodded. “Starving.”
“Then I shall feed you. Go outside and look to the right. There’s a bench. Wait for me there.” When he was safely out of visual range, I stuck my face in a freezer, wondering what Pandora’s Box I’d opened here and trying to remember whether or not that particular myth had ended well.
I joined Rohan a few minutes later, bearing two huge white bakery bags which I set on the bench between us. “For your dining pleasure.” I motioned at the odd little housewares store whose window was filled with row upon row of ceramic Japanese welcoming cats, their paws waving. “Note the enticing view.” I pointed up at the speakers of the nearby dollar store, blasting up-tempo K-pop. “The infectious soundtrack. And…” I tore open one of the bags, delicious pork and yeast-scented steam curling out. “The best BBQ pork buns you’ve ever had in your life.”
Rohan helped himself to one. “I’m from L.A., sweetheart. Not sure this is gonna top the pork buns I can get there.”
“Ye of little faith. This is Vancouver. Our Asian food is second to
none.”
His eyes fluttered shut at his first bite, his tongue darting out to catch an errant drop of sauce.
I crammed a piece of the soft bun into my mouth as a decoy for any embarrassing noises about to spill out of me.
Rohan took another bite, his white even teeth flashing. “It’s delicious. Go ahead. Be smug.”
“Nope. I’m giving you new experiences, not revisiting old ones.”
We ate our way through the stash I’d purchased in compatible silence.
“More?” He looked hopefully at the second bag.
I shook my head and his face fell. Laughing, I tore that bag open to reveal the coconut buns inside, which were also still warm. “Dessert.”
“Yes! I love these.” He helped himself to two right off the bat, polishing them off faster than I did, which was no mean feat.
I smacked his hand when he reached for a third. “Step down, cowboy. That one’s mine.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, stretching an arm along the back of the bench. His eyes remained fixated on the bun.
Growling, I tore off a piece and held it out to him.
Instead of taking it from my hand, he leaned in, his mouth closing around my fingers, all heat and wetness as he slowly sucked the piece away from me. Neither of us blinked. He swallowed, then grasped my wrist, turning my fingers from side-to-side to lick coconut cream off.
I may have forgotten how to breathe.
“Yum.” His voice was rather husky. Sexy.
“That’s nothing. Second dessert time now.” Mine was husky, too, except I sounded like Gollum. I crumpled the bags, jumping up to throw them in the trash. “Come on.”
I barreled off to his car. This date was not a good idea. I’d been wrong about tectonic upheavals. They were dangerous. Much carnage.
“Nava.” Rohan snapped his fingers at me.
I blinked at the door he held open for me. “Huh?”
He smirked.
And then there were the things that never changed.
It may have been the middle of the week, but it was also a sunny spring day and the gelato place was a local favorite. The giant pink store was bustling. Cars spilled out of the parking lot and the cobblestoned outdoor seating area was full of people munching cones under leafy trees.
Rohan’s eyes lit up at the promise of two hundred flavors on the sign.
“Wait until you see inside.” I tried not to snicker. Even Ari, who loved the gelato, could have done without their choice of interior decorating. I held open the door for him with a “ta da!”
Rohan spun in a slow circle, taking in the full glory of the bright chalk murals. “Whoa. This place rocks.” He bounded off to explore the gelato selection.
“Uh, yeah.” I stumbled up to the cash register and paid for our ice creams before we ordered, scanning the room for my date.
“Wasabi?” he asked, pointing at a tub of green gelato. “Really?”
I held up the poker chip he’d have to exchange for a single scoop cone. “Before I give you your token, you must play a round of ‘what’s that flavor?’” Another chance to make this date memorable for all the wrong reasons and make Rohan want to go home.
To someone like Lily.
The guy behind the counter stepped back. I smoothed my snarl into a smile.
Rohan glanced at the wasabi container one more time, rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. “Lay it on me.”
“We each choose one sample for the other person to taste. Then we guess.”
“What do I get if I win?” His eyes twinkled, smug certainty rolling off him. I held up the token. His face fell. “You’re holding my ice cream hostage to my correct guess?”
Not really, but it was fun taunting him, so I nodded. I twirled my finger around the room.
“Pick wisely, grasshopper.” I skipped off to get the perfect flavor.
We met in the middle of the room with our offerings.
“Ladies first.” He held out the tiny plastic sample spoon with what looked like vanilla gelato on it.
Bracing myself, I swallowed it and acked like a cat spewing a hairball. “It tastes like feet.”
“Is that your guess?”
“No.” I sorted through the disgusting aftertaste of cold, salty cheese. “Parmesan.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve tried it before.”
“Have not.” I waggled my token at him. “It was too obvious. You can’t just go for gross out. Try subtlety. You boys.”
“You’ve done this with a lot of guys?” he asked. Geez, grumpy.
“Just Ari.” He cheered up at that. “Your turn.”
He eyed the pale green hit of durian chili ice cream that I held out, snatched the spoon from me, and knocked it back. “Oh fuck,” he gagged. “It’s spicy frozen vomit.”
I tried not to laugh, but not very hard. “Is that your final answer?”
“I hate you.”
“You really don’t.” I held up his token. “The stakes are high. Make your guess.”
“You’ve burned my taste buds off. How about we rock paper scissors instead? I win, you give me my token.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Anything you want. But you won’t win.”
As if. There was only one thing guys like him ever threw. “Count of three.” I laid down paper, right as he threw scissors. “You got lucky,” I said.
“Nope. You profiled me as the type of guy to throw rock. That hurts, babe. I’m way more secure in my manhood than that.”
“Babe? I think not.”
He grinned at me, swiping his token from my hand. “I’m trying out new nicknames since Lolita was retired. What do you think about ‘Sparky?’”
“Not much.”
“It’s cute.” He swaggered off to the counter.
I was not being put in the cute zone. No, the only zone I intended to share with him was the Pacific Time Zone and that only with an international border and two states between us.
We ate outside, crammed together on one of the benches, Rohan’s leg pressed against mine. I tilted my face up to the sun, taking lazy licks of my gelato. Rohan was smart enough to share his coconut chocolate chip with me, while I graciously allowed him to try my chocolate raspberry.
Such a couple tableau we made. Except we weren’t. I bit into my cone.
“I’ll always love Lily,” he said.
“What?” My thumb punched a hole in my waffle cone and I had to suck out a glob to keep it from spilling. Why volunteer information I had no interest in? And bring it up now on our date? Had all those feels of the past little while been strictly one-sided?
“If you’re figuring out what matters, this does. Besides, you asked about her,” he said. “At lunch last week.”
I refrained from pointing out that whether or not he loved her hadn’t exactly been my wording. “Yes. You love Lily. Maybe you should stop flirting with me and run back to L.A. to be with her.”
“Even though I’ll always love her–” Okay, he could stop repeating that. He swallowed his last bite of cone. “I don’t want to get back together with her. We’re different people now.”
Throwing my arms up in victory would be bad, right? In despair. Throwing them up in despair. “Can you not tell her about being Rasha? Would it be too hard?”
“I think in general, any relationship with her would be easy.”
Like Cole.
He licked a smear of ice cream off of his finger. “It’s not what I want anymore.”
Which meant what? I was difficult? Was he even talking about me? I glanced at him to see if he planned to offer up any more information, but he watched me like it was my turn to speak.
Finishing up my cone, I silently repeated the words thundering in my brain until I was capable of saying them aloud. “I don’t know how to move forward and I can’t go back.”
“Me neither,” he admitted.
Great talk.
Chet Baker’s mournful jazz trumpet washed over us on the ride b
ack. No matter how many times I snuck glances at him, Rohan remained unreadable as he drove us home. This was impossible. We were impossible. I wasn’t even sure I wanted a “we” but I wasn’t sure I didn’t. Life was so much simpler when everything was black and white.
The end of the date loomed large and potentially awkward. First off, my dates didn’t usually live in the same house as me so I wasn’t sure about proper protocol, second, I still wasn’t ready to kiss him, which was the traditional parting gesture, and third, given our last conversation, maybe the only thing to do was toss off a “nice knowing you.”
I fiddled with my purse strap, wondering if I should try for some formal pronouncement or just walk away when Rohan said, “Unforgettable date, Sparky,” fist-bumped me and went inside.
Chapter 19
I was still standing there dumbfounded over Rohan’s exit when Ari cornered me, snagging my arm and hauling me to our car. “Where have you been? We need to figure out how best to approach Malik. You can buy me Waffles at Stacked.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
He held up his phone. “So I don’t call Mom and tell her you’re involved with both a co-worker and your ex.” Ari pitched his voice into a pretty good imitation of our mother’s. “Nava Liron Katz, I’m so disappointed in you.”
I eeped because Stacked, while delicious, was pricey and the Brotherhood didn’t pay its newbies all that well. But Mom would submit me to a litany of lectures. “Done.”
Ari wasn’t finished. “This being the first of three breakfasts, the last one to be bought no later than two months from now.”
“You are your father’s son. That’s not a compliment,” I added at his laugh.
Ari hit speed dial. “Hey Mom. You around to make Nee and me breakfast? There’s so much to catch up on.” He put her on speakerphone so I could hear that he’d really called her.
“Mama’s boy,” I whispered. “Fine. I give in to your demands.”
My agreement came just as our mom said she couldn’t, remember? She was at a conference all day, but to give her a call this weekend. Ari promised he would, snickering as he hung up.
The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-6: A Complete Paranormal Romantic Comedy Series Page 76
