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Bad brain. Bad, bad brain.
Libby looks pretty sweet.
I don’t know what I’m like in bed or if there will even be sheets involved. Minotaur prowess is pretty legendary, though. Not my fault I’ve never gotten to use it.
“Milo? Milo, are you okay?”
I zoom my brain back to the present conversation. “Huh? Yes! Sure.”
“I said, you might want to let the other incubi and succubi in the area know that you can make this. Especially the ones like Ricky.”
“Ricky?” We’re a small town, but at the moment, my mind is full of thoughts of plowing into Libby from behind, snorting and pawing while my tail lashes and my hips buck. Her hands are on the wall of my workshop and my thick neck is bent so I can rest my cheek on her head. It’s passionate but tender at the same time.
Yeah. In two seconds, I have full-on Libby-based fantasies. It’s no wonder that I somehow can’t place the name. (And it’s a good thing I’m behind my stall and I have this long apron on over my hoodie.
“Ricky? Long dark hair? Looks like maybe he ought to be one of my kind?” Robbie winks.
Still not placing him, but I nod.
“He’s not married or seeing anyone. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any trouble finding willing partners, but if he had one of these, he could take a doggy bag when he finds one if you know what I mean.”
I know what he means. He wants this Ricky guy to have a safe way to store his partner’s sexual energy. Good idea. “Sure. Yeah. Tell him to stop by.”
Robbie nods and the charming vampire’s easy smile flips into a little scowl. His irises turn red and beside him, Leo sniffs in and growls.
“Trouble?” Pine Ridge is peaceful, but I’ve armed damn near everyone in this place. Forewarned is forearmed or something like that. We’re ready to throw down if we have to.
Robbie’s British accent thickens. (He’s not a Pine Ridge native, but man did he come to the right town!) “Don’t like him much, that’s all. He hit on Charlotte at a New Year’s Eve party. Leo and I were playing on stage so I didn’t hear it, but the upshot was pretty much, ‘You’re mostly human, do me a solid and let me siphon some off of you.’”
I confess my ignorance on this one. “Can they do that?”
“By having sex.” Leo snorted, eyes suddenly flickering gold. “If he’d asked Tessa to throw him a bone, I would have ripped off his—”
I hold up a hand. “Don’t make me break out the silver, guys. I’m sorry he was a jerk. But hey, I make weapons for anyone who still rocks a soul and/or good intentions. Sounds like he asks and doesn’t trick his women. Or other people’s women. Uh. I’ll quit while I’m ahead. Spread the word around that if someone supplies the spellwork, I’ll make the container.”
“Good. I’ll tell Minegold. He knows everyone and everything. I’m sure he’ll pass it on to Ricky in the next couple of days—not that he’ll need it at the moment. You know his type. I’m sure he’s got a ready and willing date for Valentine’s. I’m sure he’ll be full for days.”
“Oh, speaking of dates for Valentine’s? I’ve got a hot tip. You’ll have to see Minegold anyway. The Neighborhood Watch is going to have to step up patrols.”
Chapter Twenty-One: Libby
It isn’t until I get home and see the cat stuff that I realize I’d forgotten to call Milo, the cat guy. By now, it’s too late. He’s probably already at the Night Market.
But...I haven’t had my fudge fix since Thursday night and—crap. It’s Wednesday. Friday night is my date. My shopping spree was productive and yielded cheap (in more ways than one) undies and a date outfit. I think I’ll get Ricky some fudge and see if I can find Milo.
Ricky has texted me a few times now. Quick, casual things, but he always talks about eating out on Friday. I can’t tell if he’s being suggestive or if he’s really into food. Either way, bringing a guy a gift on Valentine’s Day shows I’m into equality.
I bundle up. The weatherman was right. There’s definitely going to be a blizzard soon. Flurries whip through the air as I step outside. I can’t believe people spend all night outside in this weather. They must be made of tough stuff up in Pine Ridge.
I don’t know why, but I picture Milo again. I picture him with short brown hair and full-sleeve tattoos, and I see sparks flying as he makes a sword. Ha. That last part is pretty silly. Doc said Milo is a metalworker, but that doesn’t mean he’s some modern knight-slash-blacksmith with a forge in his garage and huge muscles from lifting anvils and making weapons.
I just kind of think that would be cool.
Not that I need a big strong man to sweep me off my feet. I totally don’t dream about a guy who would bring me kittens and roses while Nothing Else Matters plays in the background.
Sometimes I think about having one of those cheesy relationships, but that’s fairytale shit. Having a good time with Ricky is enough for me.
THE NIGHT MARKET IS still busy. Hell, it’s crowded. (Don’t the people in Pine Ridge own televisions? Why the fuck is everyone wandering outside at night when it’s thirty degrees?) The line at the fudge stall is in the double digits. I’ll circle back.
