Faeries Gone Wild

by MaryJanice Davidson

  Oh, yeah, she stood on the literal pulse of the community. Not.

  It was a job that needed to be done. And she did it well.

  Closing the drawer, she rubbed her fingers together. Dust? Lisa never did do what she was supposed to. Sidney sneezed and her eyes teared.

  “Ahem.”

  As she sprang upright, Sidney’s shoulder hit the open card drawer and she let out a yelp. Instant awareness of her loud outburst made her blush. She scanned the room, and her eyes fell upon the sexy sandman, standing before the desk. Smiling at her.

  “You?”

  “Me,” he replied easily. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you? Are you crying, Sidney?”

  “Me? No, no, it’s the dust. Allergies, don’t you know. Pollen does a real number on me, too.” She sniffed.

  “Here.”

  Dart pressed a soft handkerchief into her palm and Sidney sniffled into it. Thoughtful of him. She managed a brave smile and finally glanced at him.

  Toadstools and moonbeams, could a man get more attractive?

  Dart’s pale green sweater matched the new leaf buds on the nearby forsythia bush. He didn’t glow, because he wore glamour. Didn’t matter, he still shone. His golden hair, tousled and sun-bleached, swept across broad shoulders, framing a square, strong jaw. Wide hands with long fingers splayed across the counter.

  Sidney noticed hands. Men had either the rough, gruff, gnarly hands she wouldn’t go near with a hot mitt and tongs, or the long, narrow wraith hands that made her cringe before they got close enough to shake. A few had masterful hands. Just the right shape, large and manly, with perfect fingers, graceful in movement, and warm at first touch.

  A woman might find herself wondering what it felt like to have one of those hands caress her cheek. Just a stroke. Slowly, barely there.

  “Sidney?”

  “Huh?” Realizing she held the white hankie clenched against her cheek, Sidney tossed it at Dart. “Er, right. Thanks. Better now. Much better. You must be getting ready to go out on rounds?”

  “Yeah, I start early. There are a few little ones across town who need my help. Usually kids sleep like logs. It’s the adults and their crazy schedules—what with all the stress and tension—that really keep me busy. But Lacey Johnson’s mom has been letting her eat Fruity Bonkers for supper because she’s been feeling guilty for working two jobs to pay the bills. Talk about a sugar rush. Lacey needs my help if she’s going to get any sleep to night. What about you? Tooth business booming?”

  Sidney glanced aside to staunch another threatening teardrop. “I don’t have any pickups to night. I got a letter from a kid the other night,” she said. “Says his mom told him the Tooth Fairy doesn’t exist.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes, way.” Sidney caught a sniffling sigh at the back of her throat. “Rumors like that, it doesn’t take long for them to become real. Once kids lose their Belief, well . . .”

  “Don’t even speak it. I understand completely.”

  A warm hand twined within her fingers. Sidney thought surely she’d die right there. Die the good death of enchantment so bold. The feel of him, so much bigger than she, and a confident rock to her lacking convictions, well, it felt great. Better than an entire field of strawberries.

  “Without belief, I cease to exist,” she whispered. It was getting harder to keep a tremble from her voice, but Sidney tightened her jaw and held her head up. She squeezed Dart’s hand. “Which would mean I’d be packed off to Faery and reassigned. I’d despise a demotion to flower faery.”

  “I’d miss you.”

  “You don’t even know me, Sandman.”

  “I want to know you better.”

  He lifted her hand and placed a kiss to the back of it. It was a tender morsel. Sidney’s jaw loosened, and the tears threatened to pull a Niagara on her. Moments like this she felt so helpless, and utterly . . .

  “What are you doing here? In a library?”

  “I want a book?”

  “Aha.” He wanted a book like she needed to join a convent.

  What had she been doing? Utterly losing it to the dysfunctional Casanova? What kind of power did he hold over her? Don’t look in those gorgeous eyes, she coached. Be stern.

  “What sort of book?”

  Pressing his elbows onto the desk, he leaned in and flashed the charming grin that, despite her best efforts at a stern front, sent a wicked flush up the back of Sidney’s neck. “What sort do you have?”

  “Sort? Who comes to a library without any idea what book they need?”

  “All right.” He straightened. “You got me. I don’t need a book. I came to see you, Sidney. But don’t worry, it’s not a date. Just a ‘Hey, how are you’ kind of thing.”

  Uh-huh. What did he think, to make her another notch on his bedpost? She was so not willing to play that game.

  “I’m working.” She tugged a sheet listing new releases out from the drawer and grabbed a pencil. There was nothing to write or do with the paper, but it looked good. “If you don’t want a book, then I can’t help you, Mr. Sand.”

  “I can play your game, Sidney.”

  Don’t look in his eyes. Those deep, wide, charm-soaked orbs. “I don’t play games.”

  “I’ll take that book then. Give me something on . . . romance.”

  The lead in the pencil snapped against the paper. Sidney huffed out a breath. “You don’t read romance.”

  “I’m just starting. Give me the latest. A bestseller.”

  “Very well.” She rapped the pencil eraser on the desk. “Where’s your library card?”

  “I need a card?” He slapped at his shirt pockets, then gave a surrendering shrug. “Okay, let’s skip the bull. I do want a date, Sidney. I just don’t understand why it’s so hard to get one with you.”

  “Because I’m discerning? Because maybe I value the fact I’ve served as Reverie’s tooth faery for three de cades and don’t want to mess that up?”

  “Whew, three de cades? You really are one of those uptight follow-the-rules kind of gals.”

  “Uptight?” Did the man not have a compliment to hand? He’d done nothing but put her down since their first crash.

  “That came out wrong. I don’t think you’re uptight; I think you’re gorgeous, Sidney. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since we crashed.”

  “How many times you use that line on the flower faeries?”

  “Once in a—Hey, now that’s not fair.”

  “Isn’t it?” Sidney turned and plucked a book from the cart behind her and set it on the desk before Dart. “Take this one. Let me know what you think of it, will you?”

  Dart tapped the hardcover titled Romance for Dummies.

  “All right then,” he said slyly. “I can take a hint. You want romance? I can do that. Talk to you later, Miss Tooth.”

  Chapter

  7

  “ ‘Talk to you later, Miss Tooth,’ ” Sidney mocked as she popped a box of frozen eggs in the micro wave. She wasn’t big on cooking. If it came in a box, she was so there.

  “What kind of stud does he think he is? We’re not all fast and easy, Sand. Some of us are discerning and won’t jump into bed with just any man, I’ll have you know.”

  Uh-huh. Right. And she was so behind that statement. Mostly.

  While the eggs sat in the micro wave, Sidney strode into the bedroom to find some clothes. Her unrumpled, untwisted sheets blared at her.

  “I’m just not that into him,” she muttered. “I bet the sandman has never known what it’s like to not feel needed. Everyone wants that guy.”

  Once she convinced herself Dart Sand was uninteresting and not at all sexy, she could move ahead and resume her life.

  “My dull, uninteresting, follow-the-rules life.”

  Sighing, Sidney pillaged her closet. Polyester flew overhead; cotton bounced off walls; rayon and corduroy got chucked over a shoulder.

  She stood at the edge of the double-doored closet, ankle-deep in scattered shirts
and pants and dresses. And go-go boots. And fluorescent crocheted shawls.

  “Why I ever believed Day-Glo was fashionable after the eighties is beyond me,” she said with a bare-toed kick to the crinkly, sharp stuff.

  The doorbell rang. Sidney gripped a slip of polka-dotted green cotton to her bare chest. “Who could that be?”

  Panic scurried up her arms and prickled her neck. She never got visitors. Who had time to socialize?

  She shot a look at the mirror. In an unglamourized state, her hair, drying every which way after a shower, hung in heavy ringlets down to her elbows. The pale moss color had always bothered her. Why not blond, like a summer wheat field?

  She slapped on a glamour. The mossy hair was replaced by frizzy mortal brown, her wings cloaked, which always gave a brief pinch between her shoulder blades.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Pulling a cotton sundress over her head, Sidney headed toward the front door. Barefoot, shoving up the left strap that refused to stay on her shoulder and wondering when she’d ever gotten this slim-fitted dress, she tugged open the door to a bouquet of huge mauve peonies.

  Rearing back at sight of the frilly petals, Sidney stifled a sneeze. “I hate flowers.”

  Dart’s brilliant gold eyes appeared above the bouquet. “Seriously?”

  “They make me—achoo!”

  Dart tossed the flowers over his shoulder to land on the front stoop. “Then it’s a good thing I brought this.”

  There on his palm sat a small white plastic box, emblazoned with red lettering.

  Overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, Sidney grabbed the gift. “Cinnamon.” She turned and strode across the living room. He’d bought the Target brand of floss she loved. And waxed even!

  “Can I come in? Sidney?”

  Oops. Handsome stud standing in the doorway. Get your priorities in order, Sidney.

  “Yes, come in. You must be hungry after a long night of work. I’ve eggs cooking. Er, did I invite you over without realizing I did so?”

  “Nope.”

  Right. The man was pursuing her—for that notch.

  Sidney placed the floss dispenser on the counter and gave it a possessive pat. Any points lost with the flower fiasco were made up and doubled with this attentive gesture. And her favorite flavor. What a guy.

  Catching her chin in hand, Sidney preened over the gift. Out the corner of her eye, she noticed a six-foot-plus sandman brandishing a silly grin. He stood in the center of her living room. Staring at her.

  “Er . . .”

  She tugged at the skirt of her dress. No, wasn’t stuck in her underwear. (Because she hadn’t time to put any on—brazen faery.) Was it her hair? She smoothed back the unruly tresses, struggling a bit when the stuff stuck in her eyelashes.

  “Is something wrong, Dart? I don’t hate flowers; I mean, you didn’t have to toss them. It’s just, they remind me of those silly flower twits and tend to make me sneeze.”

  “Sorry about the twits—er, I mean, well, they don’t matter. The way you look now, Sidney . . . so happy. Your smile is like the sunrise. What makes your smile curve up on the right side a little higher than the other?”

  “Er . . . I like floss?”

  Dart crossed the room and took her in his arms. He performed an amazing feat, sweeping her backward and bowing over her, without making her feel like a marionette.

  And he kissed her. Sidney had to clutch at his neck and slide her fingers through his soft, silky hair to hold the lip-lock.

  Was it something she’d said? What had she said? whatever it was, could she get that in writing?

  Pressing against his rock-hard chest, Sidney managed to get a breath in edgewise. “What are you doing?” she gasped.

  “I’m kissing you. Please tell me you’ve kissed before.”

  “Of course I have. Get over yourself, Sand. You think you’re such a stud?”

  “I’ve been told once or twice.”

  I know better, she thought. Premature dusting, eh? But she wasn’t infuriated enough to say something so horrible.

  “Just . . . let the dog off the leash, will you? I don’t fall for flirty winks and sweet talk like those silly flower giglets.”

  Dart hung his head and nodded. “You wouldn’t. You’re not like them.”

  Sidney bristled. So she didn’t know how to dress, or to style her hair. Didn’t give him a right to make comments like that. “You’re such a . . . a player!”

  No, Sidney, calling him names is no way to get a repeat performance.

  “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

  “Of course I do. I just—ichor-dripping sprites, maybe in your world everyone who breathes your air falls under the spell of your charm, but in my world—”

  Another kiss stopped her tirade. It was short. Simple. Two mouths briefly colliding.

  “You are attracted,” Dart said.

  Gold eyes traced back and forth between Sidney’s eyes. Had she ever felt the touch of a moonbeam? It was cool yet electric. Beguiling.

  “How could I not want to kiss you, Sidney? You smell gorgeous—like cinnamon floss and strawberries—and look tasty.”

  “I do? Huh.” She spread her palms across the skirt of her dress. “Thought you didn’t like polka dots?”

  “They are a bit much. But you—everything about you.”

  Strong hands bracketed her shoulders. The scent of him, earthy and warm, filled Sidney’s senses. “This is nice, just the two of us. Why do you wear a glamour when you’re at home alone?”

  Because it was too easy not being herself.

  “Why are you wearing glamour?” she countered.

  “Had to get here somehow.”

  “You didn’t fly?” Most faeries traveled in small form and could cross an entire town in but minutes.

  “I took the bike.”

  “Bike?”

  “Street chopper. Seven hundred pounds of titanium, leather, and roar. There isn’t a sweeter ride in Faery.”

  “I see. I bet the flutter-twits love it, too,” she muttered. “No iron?”

  “Had it specially made. Not an ounce of iron on the entire thing. I get vaccinated against iron sickness once a year.”

  Her eyes fell to the muscular biceps he rubbed where she knew they gave the vaccine. “They hurt.”

  “Yeah.” A bend of his elbow pulsed up the muscle. “You want me to drop the glamour, I will—”

  “No!”

  Warmth flushed Sidney’s neck and cheeks. And it was moving lower. That loose, melty feeling she got when in the sandman’s presence was doing its job, relaxing her muscles and making her insides all squishy. Good thing she was wearing glamour or her wings would be violet.

  And if the sandman dropped his, well, she wasn’t sure how she’d react to his moonbeam glow. A simple kiss would not serve. She’d have to shove him on the couch and have at him. Bet he’d like that. She, running her hands all over those tight, tanned muscles. Licking the hard ridges on his abdomen that rolled, lower and lower, until she’d have to go so low—

  Dashing out her tongue, she tasted the remnants of Dart’s kiss. Twice now he’d planted a nice one on her. And twice she’d decided to like the faery despite all the warnings that screamed he was a player.

  The image of her tongue dancing across his hard body had not gone away.

  “Sorry about calling you a player. Kiss me again, Sandman.”

  They landed in each other’s embrace like two honeybees colliding mid-air.

  Sidney slid her hand down his granite abs. Real, all of him. Not a daydream or fantasy. And he was kissing her. Mercy, mushrooms, and midnight moonbeams! Rules? Who cared about the rules? She wanted this fling.

  And she would have it.

  Dart muttered something against her mouth, but the sensual husky tones got lost in their kiss. He pushed Sidney’s hand away. She drew him closer.

  Too late. A cloud of glimmering dust filled the air. And Sidney went down, snoring.

  Chapter

 
; 8

  Sidney woke, sprawled in the center of the kitchen floor. Beneath the counter, a stray baby carrot brandished a coating of dust thicker than a rabbit pelt. That was the problem with living in the MR; brownies developed a superior attitude and wouldn’t work for faeries here. Like they were so hoity-toity working for the feeble mortals.

  Feeling like she’d been hit by one of those huge mortal semitrucks, she gripped the edge of the counter and pulled herself up to stand.

  “Wha—? What in toadstools happened?” Rubbing her eyes, she felt grit roll away and down her cheek.

  “So he really is trigger-happy with the dust. What do you know? The dude gets aroused and—poof! Dust city. Can’t be good for a man’s sex life. Or the faery he’s having sex with.”

  Sidney yawned and straightened. “Though the nap was good. That dude must be an insomniac’s dream.”

  A note scrawled in rushed script lay on the counter. Sidney read: Sorry. I have a problem.

  “Well, duh.”

  Didn’t mean to put you to sleep. Hope you can forgive me. Too embarrassed to stick around. Won’t bother you again.

  What was with all the notes lately? They all harbored doom!

  “Too embarrassed? Poor guy. How does someone like that have a relationship? Hmm, should keep him from being retrieved for rule breaking. Suppose he dates those silly flower faeries ’cause they just giggle and probably don’t mind being dusted to sleep in the middle of a good make-out session.”

  Didn’t they desire more? The big wazoo? Payoff for all the foreplay and crazy acrobatic maneuverings? Obviously, such reward wasn’t possible at Dart’s speed.

  Yet he was a charmer.

  Remembering the way he’d looked at her made Sidney smile. Wrapped in Dart’s arms, she’d felt melty and a little naked, but a good naked. It had been a long time since any man had given her the glad eye.

  And she wanted it again.

  An extra helping of dust for Mrs. Henderson this evening. Dart hovered over her pillow, dusting her. Half a foot away sprawled the snoring body of a sleeping gorilla. Mr. Henderson was big, hairy, and loud. How anyone could sleep through that racket was a wonder. Which was why Dart paid special attention to the pretty mortal woman tossing about on her pink satin pillow.