by Michele Hauf
“What the hell is that?”
Mireio laughed and took her friend by the arm, hugging up alongside her. “Oh, Geneva. This. Is a baby.”
“I know that, joker. I mean, what are you doing with one of those? Did you have a baby and not tell me about it?”
“Dear, sweet Geneva. You would know if I had a baby. Though you have been pretty scarce around here lately.”
“Our shifts never overlap. You’re the morning bird. I’m a midnight raven. So what? Did you think a baby would draw in customers during happy hour?”
“I’m watching him for Lars.”
“The man you’re dating?”
“Yep.”
“Ugh. How can you? I mean, it’s a baby. They’re just so...”
“Adorable?”
“Sticky.” Geneva cringed and took a step back from Peanut’s setup on the blanket below the plastic play gym. Lars packed the baby bag like a pro. “What’s its name?”
“It is a boy. And his name is Peanut.”
The witch flashed Mireio a disdainful pout of her deep red vamp lips. “Seriously?”
“He doesn’t have a name yet. Lars has been calling him Peanut. So what are you here for? You’re not scheduled until tomorrow night. And I’m almost finished. Was waiting around for Lars to pick us up.”
“Where is the guy? You just start dating and already he’s using you as a babysitting service? Sounds sketchy.”
“He’s gone out for groceries and a doctor’s appointment. And you know I’ll babysit anytime, anywhere.”
“What’s wrong with him? I thought he was a werewolf? Werewolves don’t get sick.”
True. Huh. Mireio should have asked him to explain.
“It’s nothing. Lately he’s been experiencing some weird tingling in his fingers and toes. He thinks it’s from cutting wood.”
“Sounds not at all sexy to me.”
“The man has a beard and a baby, Geneva. My ovaries can’t handle all that sexy.”
“A beard?” Geneva mocked a shudder.
“Oh, sweetie, you’ve obviously never been on the receiving end of the beard. It has some amazing powers, let me tell you.”
“Like catching food and being smelly?”
“Lars’s beard smells like him. Sort of like a forest after the rain. Mmm...” Mireio wiggled her shoulders appreciatively.
“Ah-huh.” Geneva slid onto a barstool and patted the stool next to her. “Well, leave Cashew to his baby stuff, and come sit with me. I need your advice about a man.”
“Really? This is new. You know I can’t begin to comprehend the level of financial status you require from all your men?”
“I’m not dating a rich guy at the moment. And it’s driving me mad. Mad, I tell you. The man is positively...”
“Rustic?”
“Yes.” Geneva followed with a drawn-out moan. “At least he doesn’t have one of those.” She thumbed a gesture toward Peanut, who giggled and kicked his feet as he eyed the spinning objects above him.
“As far as you know.” Mirieio climbed onto a barstool. “So what’s up? Why did you even go after a man with no money?”
“I thought it would be a lark, you know? Sort of a reassurance that I really do enjoy dating rich guys and being treated like a princess and getting jewels and cars and stuff all the time.”
“If there’s a but to follow that statement, I will stab you in the heart. Do you know how lucky you are, Geneva?”
“I thought I did. But.” She caught her chin in hand and flashed her million-carat sapphire gaze at Mireio. “I think I like this man. But he’s a grocer.” She squeezed her eyelids shut and put up a palm before her. “I can’t believe I told you that. Argh! He works at a grocery store putting food in bags, Mireio. That is so...”
“Beneath you?” Mireio tried, but hoped her friend wouldn’t nod in agreement.
“No. It’s...different. We don’t do big fabulous things like yachting or shopping in Dubai or even renting the penthouse of a New York apartment for a week. We just...talk a lot. And last night was the first time in ages I actually sat in a dank old dark movie theater.”
“Hey, me and Lars were in a theater last night too.”
Geneva shuddered. “The horrid popcorn smell and those lumpy seats. But do you know I enjoyed myself?”
“Oh, sweetie, you’re in love.”
“I can’t be.” Geneva actually cast her arm across her forehead in the classic tortured-heroine move. “What am I going to do?”
“Just let it happen, I guess. Seems to be the thing lately with us Dames and our men. And with Scorpio rising...”
“Oh, goddess, that means our sexual energy is so high right now. And me and Mr. Rustic haven’t slept together yet.”
Mireio almost said, “I don’t believe that,” because she knew Geneva went at her men fast, furious and with a mission, but she stopped herself. It had to be tough dating a man so out of her planetary orbit.
Thinking of which, she’d taken a bold, brave step by dating a man with a baby. Wasn’t so bold. Wasn’t even brave. It actually felt right.
“It’s a good thing,” she said, about her and Lars, but then Geneva hugged her suddenly.
“Thanks for the chat, Mireio. It means a lot. I know I spend a lot of time away from The Decadent Dames because I travel so much. So I appreciate you dropping everything and giving me some time. I really like this man. He might be the one. Even if his checkbook is flatter than Valor’s chest.”
Valor was the resident tomboy who had a body like a boy, but she’d caught herself a sexy faery man—one of the Saint-Pierre brothers—who appreciated her exactly as she’d been designed.
Geneva pulled on her scarf and sunglasses. She stepped down from the stool and gave Mireio air kisses to both cheeks. “Thanks, sweetie. I’ll be in tomorrow night,” she called as she walked toward the door. “Bye, Hazelnut!”
Mireio sat on the blanket beside Peanut and tapped the mobile so it spun. “Don’t listen to her, Peanut Butter. We’ll get you a name soon. How about...Horatio?”
“Nope.”
She hadn’t heard Lars walk in. He must have entered as Geneva had walked out.
“Hey! Get all the necessaries?”
“You know it.” He winked, indicating he knew exactly which necessity she was most concerned about.
“How did it go with the doctor?”
“Uh, fine. Just some routine stuff.”
“Routine? Then why did he make you go in? I mean he sent you a text. That was so weirdly urgent.”
“Huh? Oh. Uh...” He shrugged and shoved his hands in his front pockets. “He wanted to do one more test. I had to give some more blood. It’s nothing. So I’m going to take Peanut home and try to get some work done this evening before the sun sets. And I need to check the hives. It’s swarming season. I don’t want to lose my queens.”
“Okay.” The man seemed...not right. Nervous? Definitely not telling her something. But he was also a shy guy so she’d give him that. For now. “I do have some inventory to do in the basement. I could continue to watch Peanut if you have things to do today?”
“No, we’re good.” He bent to disassemble the baby gym and shoved it in the diaper bag. Pulling out the soft flannel baby sling, he wrapped it around his neck, then picked up Peanut and tucked him against his chest. “He need to be changed?”
“Just did it. Are you sure, Lars? Because Horatio and I were starting to get into a groove.”
“Not Horatio.” He shoved the blanket into the bag and stood. “I’ll talk to you later. Thanks!” And he strode out of the brewery.
And Mireio could but sit there on the floor, wondering what she’d said to make him act so curt and abrupt with her. He hadn’t even kissed her before leaving.
No, it wasn’t anything she’d said. Something had gone down between the time he’d left her with kisses and smiles earlier to visit the doctor and now.
“But werewolves don’t get sick,” she repeated Geneva’s statement. “Do they? Hmm...”
* * *
Wood chips flew furiously about him as Lars slammed the ax down. Again, and again. He split the oak log, tossed the cut piece aside. Again. Split. Toss. Slam.
He’d been working for an hour and the sweat spilled down his face and bare chest. The overalls he’d shoved down to his hips were soaked about the waist with more sweat.
He glanced to the baby monitor but the red light that would indicate sound remained green. Peanut tended to nap in the early evening for almost two hours.
Swinging his arms up he brought down the ax with another forceful show of brute strength.
Yes, damn it, he was strong. He wasn’t... Fuck!
He was not. He couldn’t be.
He hadn’t been able to get out of the damn doctor’s office fast enough. What the doctor had told him had made no sense at all. And the man had been so sure, even though he’d suggested one more test. As a confirmation. But really? Werewolves didn’t...
Lars let out a guttural shout as again he swung down the ax and the chips flew. At his feet a heavy pile of wood shavings had formed and he shook them off his work boots and grabbed another oak log. The air was thick with dry wood scent but he didn’t enjoy that spring perfume this day.
He hadn’t been able to walk away from Mireio fast enough when he’d picked up his boy. He hadn’t wanted to stand in the brewery and try to act normal and happy to see her when...
“Fuck!”
The ax found its mark. He kicked the cut wood aside to the stack, which was turning into a haphazard pile. Picking up another piece, he slammed it on the wood stump before him.
The doctor was wrong. Had to be. Whatever the heck was going on with him right now? It would pass. Yet the doc had treated his dad in the months before he had passed so long ago. He’d kept those records and had nodded sadly as he told Lars he was confident he’d the same thing his dad had. But to alleviate any worries, he’d do one more test.
But seriously? Why take more blood from him after he’d announced such a dire diagnosis?
Swinging down the ax, he winced as his biceps stretched and a sudden piercing pain radiated from his left wrist toward his elbow. He flung the ax to the ground and gripped his wrist. To his side, the monitor flashed red. He heard the gurgling sounds of Peanut coming awake.
Bowing over the wood stump he caught his palms on it and shook his head. Never in his life had he cried. And he wouldn’t let that happen now. He was strong. He was a man. He could handle this shit.
He glanced to the monitor. Heaven help him, what was he going to do with Peanut?
Chapter 9
The next day Mireio glanced at the clock above the stove. It was late afternoon. Lars had not called. She hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday afternoon when he’d picked up Peanut from the brewery.
She licked the buttercream icing from a finger and pulled the bowl of fresh-washed blueberries and raspberries closer. She was making a lemon poppy seed cake and the topping would be an artfully arranged assortment of fresh fruit. Lars would love it.
Or would he? Why the silence?
She’d called him a few hours earlier. His phone had forwarded her to messages. She’d left a quick one: “Call me. Thinking of you.” But she couldn’t help feeling unsettled. Worried for him.
What had the doctor told him?
On the other hand, she did have a tendency to think too far ahead, as Eryss often said. She had to stop worrying about a future that generally never turned out as she thought it would. Lars was fine. He was probably busy doing whatever it was the guy did. Maybe he’d started a big project yesterday and hadn’t time to chat?
She wondered about the baby. Did the poor thing sit in the baby seat all day while his dad worked away? No. Lars would probably stop what he was doing every so often to entertain the boy. She knew that he must. He and his boy were like two peas in a pod.
“Peanut.” She sighed and toggled a blueberry under her finger. “Who would have thought I’d fall for a man with a baby. A baby who has the most handsome, irresistible dad, a dad who kisses like I’m the only woman in the world. And oh, that beard.”
She shivered to recall it brushing her skin as he’d kissed her breasts. Indeed, it had some kind of sensual power.
She picked up the cell phone, smearing it with frosting. Tapping the voice messages app, there were no return calls from Lars. “I’ll send him a text.”
That way he wouldn’t feel the need to call her, if that was the problem. Though why he wouldn’t want to talk to her—the man had to have gotten over his shyness with her—argh! She was freaking out over nothing. Women had this terrible time schedule in their brains about how long people should go between conversations, yet she well knew men were not like that. They could go for days without talking, and then arrive at a girl’s doorstep eager for fun, like no time had passed at all.
She typed in a message: You must be busy. I can make supper if you’re interested. Thought maybe one day we could drive and look for vamp...
Yeah, give him a reason to want to see her. Like helping her out with looking for the big bad vampire. Unless he’d decided he didn’t want to see her anymore and this was the dreaded “I’m ignoring you because I don’t like you anymore” kiss-off?
“Oh!” She caught her forehead in her hands, smearing frosting across an eyelid in the process.
At that moment her phone buzzed. A message!
It was from Lars.
Sorry, she read. Been busy. Tonight’s not good. Vamp hunt sounds necessary. Try me tomorrow?
She set the phone down and nodded reassuringly. “Okay. That’s cool. He’s busy. So chill, Mireio. Maybe tomorrow night. This cake will still be good by then. Of course it will be. I’ll...put the berries on tomorrow so they don’t get mushy. Right. I have to work on my water spells anyway.”
* * *
The following afternoon, Mireio called Lars but again he did not answer, so she texted him. This time she didn’t know what to say. Was he really that busy?
“Just checking in,” she whispered as she typed. “Call me.”
What was up with her chasing a man? She did not phone-stalk men. Until now. Mireio dropped her head and sighed again. “I guess that means more spell practice.”
The afternoon crept toward evening while she managed to wrangle a water elemental to help her in the garden. The elemental would tend her flowers and alert her when they needed a squirt from the hose. The tiny liquid creature slid down Mireio’s finger and landed on a wide peony leaf, hugging it gently. She liked to keep her elementals happy.
A text reply did not come until around six that evening when she was staring in the fridge at the frosted cake, wondering if it would look odd if she presented her lover with a cake missing a slice. The bowl of berries sitting beside it was getting mushy. They needed to be eaten today.
Mireio spun around and grabbed her phone. Lars had texted her. Sunday can watch Peanut after ten. Will swing by, pick you up. Vamp hunt!
Letting out her held breath, she nodded. Then performed a triumphant fist pump. Then, she caught a hand at her throat. Why did she feel as if tonight could be the last time she saw the man?
“I need some rhodonite and...rose quartz.”
She wasn’t going into the unknown without some sexy backup crystals. And with the new moon she could also finally work a birth control spell. Might be best, just in case the condoms were forgotten again.
“So much to do before he stops by.” She closed the fridge door. The cake could wait.
* * *
As far as dates went
, this one ranked as strange and unusual. But it afforded Lars time with Mireio, and he hadn’t seen her for two days, so he was in for the ride. And what a weird ride.
Before leaving her place, the witch had insisted he eat cake. Lots of it. He’d finished half the cake and more than enough berries to make his skin turn blue (yes, he was a fan of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory), and then she’d grabbed him and made a dash for the truck.
Once in northern Minneapolis, they’d decided to park in a four-level open parking ramp. Upon exiting the truck Mireio pointed out a dark shadow pursuing a woman below in an alleyway. Lars could smell the blood and violence on the man. Definitely vampire. They could observe from the ramp, so he suggested they remain there, near the truck because he didn’t want Mireio to get too close to a dangerous vamp.
And they were just scoping things out tonight. She had said there was a necessary spell ingredient she’d ordered. Dragon’s blood or piss. Something disgusting like that. So tonight was simply to see if they could locate the vamp, get an ID on him, then return to his turf when Mireio was ready.
And besides, if they were both focused on the vampire, then they didn’t have to make small talk. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.
“My grandmother never let me go in this area of the city,” Mireio said. “Too dangerous.”
“Your grandma?”
“She raised me. My mom died when I was eight.”
“Oh, right, sorry about that. That’s rough. My dad died when I was young, as well. I was raised by the pack leader and his wife.” He pressed a hand over his stomach.
“Still hungry?” she asked eagerly.
“Oh, no,” he said too quickly. “I mean, it was great cake. But that was a lot of cake. Whew!” A movement drew his attention. “There’s something down there.”
Both of them leaned over the concrete balustrade and followed the action below that wound deeper into the dark suburban landscape. A man pursued a woman, whose frantic breathing Lars could hear. He could also sense her heartbeat thundering madly.
