Dipping to neck deep in the water, I make like a duck and waddle in the three-and-a-half-foot deep—at least according to the tile marker on the side—water, then scoot my behind onto the ledge and sit back.
“That’s very cute.” Harpoc sits down beside me, clearly amused.
“What? I hate freezing.”
“So I see.” He palms a handful of water at me.
I cup my hands and propel more back at him. All hell breaks loose between us after that until my stomach aches from laughing so hard it hurts. His, too, judging by the way he holds his gut.
“Truce?” he asks, holding up his hands.
“You started it.”
“That I did.” His smile tells me he doesn’t regret a thing.
I pant as we sit again, most of my nervous energy spent. I’m glad. Maybe now I can actually carry on a conversation with him.
The buoyancy of the water moves me forward, so I put my palms against the tile to stay in place, keeping only my head above water. Harpoc reclines with his arms spread along the side, bare chest above the waterline. To say it’s distracting is an understatement, but I want to get to know him, beyond his physical beauty.
“Is there nothing your magic can’t do?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“You cleaned up my motel room, my clothes, and my boots with it, at least I’m assuming so. I was in the bathroom washing up so I don’t know for sure. It also protected us from the rain while we walked to Atitamos’s Cafe, it blocked the wind while flying, it lets you speak unknown languages, perceive the contents of scrolls, rebuild that wall and the maze, healed my bruises...”
He’s smiling. “That’s quite a list you have there—”
I hold up a finger, interrupting. “And…”
“And?” He tilts his head.
I wrinkle my nose, embarrassed to say, but Harpoc’s intense gaze has me add, “It did a fine job getting us this room. Mighty convenient that it has only one bed.” I wag my brows.
He laughs. “You thought that was secret magic that got us this room?” He winks.
“Wasn’t it? I’m learning to just go with the flow around you because your magic seems capable of anything.”
A grin bursts onto his face, and he shakes his head. “Secret magic did not get us this room, I can assure you.”
“Really?” He didn’t rig it?
“Really. Is there anything we’re attempting to keep secret?”
“Well, no…” But I’d been so sure.
“Isn’t it possible someone really did just cancel before we arrived?”
“I suppose.” Still doubt nibbles at me.
“Secret magic does have many of those capabilities, you’re right, but it only works when there’s a secret to keep.” He clears his throat and looks away, like he’s accidently said too much.
Don’t let him off the hook, Pell.
No worry about that. I’m on his sexy ass like a… like a… Any simile just sounds gross, and I don’t finish the thought.
“What secret did cleaning up my spilled soup and worn stuff keep? It’s a well-known fact that I’m a dirt-poor slob.”
Harpoc grows unnaturally quiet.
Really? Again.
Keep after him, Pell.
“Okay, fine. What about keeping us dry with the rain shield?” I shift on the ledge.
He turns back toward me, a corner of his mouth hitching up. “I’m going to start calling you my little harpy.”
My stomach quivers at the endearment, but I furrow my brows, covering. “Why?”
“Between your shrieking at the cold and your probing—” He laughs. “—you’re ferocious, Pell.”
“I lack wings…” My face warms. “… and I’m… mostly, fully clothed.”
His eyes start dancing, telling me he’d like to remedy that.
I cup another handful of water and send it at him.
He just laughs. “Allow me to explain.”
“I wish you would.”
“What you couldn’t appreciate being surrounded as we were by both the rain as well as wind shields is that they concealed any trace of our smell.”
“Was there a reason it needed to be concealed? Did I smell that bad?”
A corner of his mouth rises. “We were in pursuit of a creature who one could reasonably assume would be upset with us for divulging her secret. I deemed it advisable to use them until we’d located her because, yes, you reeked of secret magic.”
I force a frown. “So secret magic didn’t rig scoring us this room… with just one bed?” I raise an eyebrow.
He guffaws. Answer enough.
I’m unsure if I’m relieved or disappointed. He didn’t rig the hotel… to get me in bed with him.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence in secret magic, but there are many things it cannot do.” He glances inside, then back. “I figured we’d decide sleeping arrangements closer to time. That couch”—he nods at the sofa lining the wall inside—“folds out.”
My eyes go wide. “It… really?” I swivel to look at it.
He cracks up, and I can’t resist appreciating the sound as I study the sofa in question.
I turn back several seconds later. “Okay, I kind of get the shields, but what secret were you keeping by healing my bruises?”
His look turns serious, and he locks his gaze with mine, making my stomach tense.
What’s he thinking? The suspense is killing me as the seconds tick by. Will he tell me?
He finally looks away, at the water, and says, “I couldn’t stand to see you bruised, not when you’d gotten the marks trying to…”
“Fix the problems I created?” I look at my prune-y fingers.
“Yes.”
It’s touching. I feel cared for, something I haven’t felt in… years. But he hasn’t told me everything, that much is clear with that much hesitating. Disappointment fills me, and I force my shoulders not to droop.
What’d you expect, Pell, the
