Orin looked up from his phone, and gave me a subtle smile. “Both.” He beckoned me closer. It was scary how effortlessly good looking he was in jeans and a tee shirt. Somehow that strange hipster bun only made him manlier.
“Well, hello to you,” I purred and made my way across the street. He quickly snatched me up in his arms and pulled me close. His embrace was soft yet strong and his cologne made my knee’s week.
“Are those flowers for me?”
I giggled. “They could be. Someone’s stepping up their game, huh?” Grinning, I attempted to reach up to ruffle Orin’s hair, but settled for patting his shoulder instead. “Speaking of flirt, where’s Weylyn?”
Orin gestured over his shoulder. “In the store, chatting up the owner. Do us a favor and drag his arse outta there, wouldn’t ye?”
As I entered the clothing store, I thought it might be funny just to stare at Weylyn till he noticed I was there.
Funny it was not.
The more I stared, the less I liked what I saw going on. The store owner (if she was indeed the owner) was doing an awful lot of those flirty girl gestures. The playing with her hair thing, the coy smiling thing, the saccharin giggling thing. Then, of course, she had to go and say something that really derailed me. “I’d love to see you around here more often. I miss you. Remember the fashion show you gave me? Nobody’s in the back room. I could shut the store for an hour...”
That made me arch an eyebrow. Far be it from me to be that one jealous bitch who never lets a man talk to any other woman ever. Nor should I have expected it. It’s not like he is my boyfriend...
But he’d better not be getting reeled in by all this.
Of course, Weylyn was getting reeled in. “Well, you have an eye for what looks good on a man. And I know what looks good on a woman like you.”
“And what’s that?”
Weylyn leaned closer. “Nothing.” His reward was a blushing giggle.
For fuck’s sake, Weylyn, you go to the trouble of saying you’re so worried about me, then you sit there and ignore me? “Hey, Romeo! Let’s roll!” I barked. “If not, Orin’s going to leave you here.”
Weylyn did some kind of shudder-jump when he saw me, and realized I was listening to him. “Ah, I’m sorry! Just one moment!” He sounded a bit flustered, and I felt a strange, small bit of joy, shaking Weylyn’s composure. As I walked out of the store, I gave a little wake up call to little Zippo, and gave a magical spin to one of the round rotating clothes racks...
“Orin, let’s get going. Weylyn’s decided to walk home.”
Orin gave a grunt of acknowledgment. He went to the truck and opened my door. “Wait, wait, wait!” cried Weylyn as he burst out of the store and ran to catch up with us. “I can’t believe you were all seriously about to leave me behind!”
“It looked like you were occupied,” Orin said with a mischievous grin.
Weylyn gave a quick peek back at the haberdashery. Miss fashion plate was terribly busy. I guess Zippo liked the idea of spinning the clothes rack. It was now spinning like a top, as cashmere and gabardine took flight in every direction. Weylyn looked back at me, and I gave a tight little smile. “Oh, all done?” I twittered. He got in the truck without a word.
We returned home in plenty of time to get ready for a dinner party thrown by Keegan’s father, Patrick McDonough. Not in time enough for Keegan, though. He was as nervous as an archbishop with a bad dose. He was exceptionally uncharitable toward Katie, who was meeting her friend LeAna from the Seelie court.
“That’s the whole point of this dinner, Keegan. It’s a planning session with your dad, to make a battle plan. And we need the Seelie Court’s help.”
“Seelie my arse. Twenty pounds say she stopped in at Crossroads for a couple of pints, and to get her lips on Connor’s spigot.”
At seven, we pulled up (still without Katie) to a small cottage sitting at the edge of a large forest. Patrick’s ‘Home Sweet Home’ looked so old that I wondered how it was even still standing. But still, the billow of smoke from the old brick chimney made it feel alive and welcoming. The front door sprang open even before we were all out of the car.
“Cead mile failte romhat!” sang out the bearded gentleman as he opened his arms wide. I walked straight into his warm embrace.
“A thousand welcomes, little Morrigan. It’s so grand to finally meet you. Please come in, and call me Patrick. I insist!”
I followed Patrick inside, and realized that I was gravely mistaken to think that his cottage decrepit. Once past the threshold, it was technology and modern design from floor to ceiling. I even heard Frank Sinatra playing in the background. Everything from the sofas to the dining room was modern chic and immaculately clean. “You have such a lovely home Patrick”
“Don’t sound surprised! Things are never quite as they appear, eh?” He winked at me before heading to his wet bar. “Brann, Weylyn, come help sort the drinks, ya great shaggy hooligans.”
“You ok, princess?” Orin whispered, taking a seat next to me.
“This place looks like a penthouse suite on 5th Avenue, not a cottage in the bog.” I continued to stare in awe.
“You’re too kind,” Patrick said, handing me a glass of white wine.
Brann handed a whiskey to Orin, winking at me. “You should’a seen all the furniture Keegan busted as a wee scrapper.”
“At one point we weren’t even allowed over. Patrick thought we’d brain ourselves on all the pointy ends,” Orin adds, as he sneakily threw his arm behind me, resting it on the sofa.
“More
