Page 25 of Dreamscape Therapies

Jared, the blond one, is going to be absolutely insufferable about this.

Vincent notices at the same time, and he yanks his hand away so quickly that you’d think I just electrocuted him.

“I'll drive,” he blurts before he speed-walks toward his tiny silver Honda Civic.

I stare after him.

Interesting.

I'll think about that later, probably at two in the morning when I'm lying awake wondering why the hell my client's reaction bothered me so much.

Jared and Malek watch him go, exchanging identical knowing smirks.

“Don't.” I point a warning finger at them.

Jared raises both hands. “I didn't say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Malek sighs dreamily. “You can't go one day without causing a problem with the mortals.”

“I'm not causing anything.” Jared's grin widens devilishly.

“Sure.”

Faeries are well-known tricksters. Jared and Malek have apparently decided that pranks are a perfectly acceptable form of foreplay.

Weird, but I don't yuck other beings' yums. I have some weird yums myself, if I'm being completely honest.

By the time I reach the car, Vincent has the engine running and the heat blasting. I dive into the passenger seat with a huge shiver.

“Oh, thank the gods.” I groan, holding my hands in front of the vent. “Whoever invented heaters deserves a national holiday.”

His mouth twitches.

“Where are we going?” I buckle my seat belt.

“This was your idea,” he sighs. “You pick.”

“Where to eat? Where to eat?” I tap my chin as I think over the options in the near vicinity.

Vincent hits a pothole, and I bounce in my seat, my head nearly hitting the ceiling. I grab the ceiling handle, gripping tight so I’m not thrown from the vehicle.

“Are they going to fix the road leading to your house?”

“Nope. I like the potholes. I’m definitely keeping them. Gives the place character.” I laugh at his sardonic expression. “Jared and Malek should have them fixed before the weekend.”

“Good.” He rubs his shoulder. “I think I lost a kidney back there.”

“Well, the good news is that most beings come with two.” I smile brightly. “So you should be fine.”

He gives me a solemn look, and I keep my smile perfectly blank. His lips twitch almost microscopically.

Score one for me.

I direct him toward a tiny Mexican restaurant a few blocks away. The building looks like it survived a small war and at least two economic collapses, which means the food is incredible.

The second we walk through the glass door, the smell hits me: roasted peppers, fresh cilantro, spices, and warm tortillas.