relaxed as a knobby head appeared.
“Lizzie!” My dog went from zero to sixty as he clambered out of the bushes and up the front steps. “I was looking for you!”
I reached out and scratched the wiry fur on his back. “You thought I might be hanging out in the hedges?”
Pirate mulled that over for a second. “Nah. I just smelled something. You know I had to check that out. Now I don’t want to alarm you, but we have to get inside. I smell bacon, cheese, shrimp, and more cheese!”
I drew him into my arms. “I can’t, bub. Too worried.” I sat back down on the steps and cradled the dog in my arms. He was toasty warm from all his running around. It felt good.
Maybe it was ridiculous. I mean, Dimitri was strong, fearless. Even if he ran into something terrible out there, he was a good fighter. He could take care of himself.
But I loved him.
I stared out into the black night, trying to see, to anticipate, to imagine the slightest light at the end of the dark driveway.
“Why can’t I relax anymore?” I asked Pirate.
“You and me both, sister,” he said, rolling over so I could rub his tummy.
Technically, that party in there was for me. My mom had come in all the way from Atlanta. Until today, I hadn’t seen her in a year. And the biker witches? Sure, we saw each other all the time, but that didn’t mean I should be ignoring them. “They’re living it up and I’m sitting out here. Alone.”
Pirate nosed my elbow. “Excuse me?”
Okay. So I was sitting outside with a dog.
Had my position as a demon slayer robbed my ability to simply be with the people I loved, to have fun? Had it stolen my life from me?
Pirate wriggled off my lap and curled up next to me on the porch. He rested his head on my leg and exhaled, his warm doggie breath tickling my wrist. “I’d rather be inside eating snacks.”
I scratched him on the soft spot behind his ears. “Me, too, bub. Me, too.”
After midnight, when my back was stiff and my head ached from worrying, Pirate and I made the climb up to my room. I closed my door, blocking most of the party noise from the first floor, and slipped off my shoes. I rested my phone next to my head and let my doggie curl up next to me.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Pirate said on a yawn. “He’s tough.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said, as we cuddled in the dark together. Waiting.
***
I woke to the smell of bacon and eggs. Sunlight filtered through the lace curtains and I realized it had to be at least eight o’clock in the morning. And I hadn’t heard from Dimitri.
The thought sat like a rock in my stomach as I pushed past the still-warm, dog-sized spot on the bed covers.
I didn’t bother changing, or finding my shoes. I was halfway through brushing my teeth before I even realized I was doing it. Call it force of habit. My mind really wasn’t all there. My head still ached and my body felt like I’d slept on the porch.
His room was empty. The hallway was deserted, but at the bottom of the stairs, well, I should have expected this. It looked like a geriatric slumber party gone horribly wrong. Frieda was curled up by the main banister, her pink suit shirt tied like Daisy Duke and her head resting on the bottom step. Ant Eater snored, open mouthed, as she leaned against the front door. Someone had drawn a moustache and goatee on her face with a black Sharpie.
I thought she had a shiner. That is, until I made my way down the stairs, stepped over Frieda and saw it wasn’t a black eye, but a crudely drawn eye patch. Ah, swell. Ant Eater was a pirate.
There were three more witches crashed out in the foyer. At least a dozen on couches in the sitting room.
I stepped over my Grandmother as she snored away in the hallway to the kitchen.
If I were a good granddaughter, like I was before I became the exalted Demon Slayer of Dalea and was forced to deal with all this nonsense, I would have woken Grandma up and escorted her to bed. But she looked so peaceful curled up, her head resting on a potato chip bag. And really, I’d given up trying to tell the biker witches what to do. It wasn’t the first time they’d all woken up on the floor, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Still, guilt compelled me to grab a couch cushion from the sitting room and trade it for the Lay’s Salt & Vinegar.
See? I was nice. “There you go,” I said, depositing the chips on a hall table. She mumbled something unintelligible.
Maybe she’d wake up sober. I could always hope.
I could use Grandma and a few of her friends to help me search for Dimitri. If only I knew where to look.
At least my mom wasn’t among the snoring drunks. Thank heaven. She might have had the energy to make it up the stairs. More likely, she was the one cooking. Nothing kept Hillary down. She’d keep to her schedule even if it killed her.
Given what transpired yesterday, it just might.
The gray slate floors were chilly against my feet as I nudged Sidecar Bob’s wheelchair out of the way and rounded the corner into the kitchen.
Dimitri stood by the massive stove, turning a large skillet full of bacon.
He looked gorgeous in a green, button down shirt that matched his eyes and accented his broad shoulders. Over it, he wore an apron that said
I let out a small shriek and launched myself straight for him. He caught me by the waist and pulled me close.
“I expected that reaction from Pirate,” he smiled, his angled features softening. “Of course, he only cares about the bacon.” The sound of his voice, the crisp Greek accent, the relief, made me want to grab him and never let go.
“I wouldn’t mind a taste of your bacon,” I said, more interested in him than in any kind of banter. I breathed a sigh of relief and hugged him again, grateful for the solid warmth of his chest against my cheek. “Where were you?”
“I got in late. I didn’t want to wake you up.” He curled his free hand around me and brushed a kiss over my forehead. “What’s the matter?”
“Not a thing.” Not now.
I needed to relax. Be a bride.
Still, I promised myself a long time ago, I’d never take this man for granted.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “If this is how you get when I cook, I’m going to live in the kitchen.”
I ran my fingers through the thick, ebony hair that curled at his collar. “Promise?”
He tilted his head. “What happened to your hair?”
Right. I touched my dark brown ‘do, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “My mom fixed it.”
He touched a lock at my shoulder. “I like your wild child side.”
“It’s still there.” I couldn’t get away from it. “Only now I recognize myself.”
Pleasure tickled down my spine when his eyes swept over me. “Well you look sexy as hell.”
I felt it. I’d waited thirty years for a man to look at me like that.
He leaned down and brushed my lips with his once, twice. I sank into him, teasing the nape of his neck with my fingers, feeling his hands slide up my back and skim around my side until one of his hands cupped my breast. His thumb brushed over the nipple, teasing it, and I felt it down to my toes.
“You’re going to burn your bacon,” I said against his mouth.
“I like it crunchy,” he said, drawing me closer, deepening the kiss until I couldn’t think of anything else either.
His hard length pressed against my stomach and I ground against it, wishing we had a bed or a couch or hell—a kitchen table so that I could feel it where I needed it most.
