When Cale merely peered at him dubiously, he chuckled, and added, “Trust me. By tonight, you’re going to be stuffing your face like a mortal after a weeklong fast.”
Cale scowled, not pleased at the suggestion. Really, he wasn’t any more pleased to find himself trapped in a vehicle with the younger immortal. Food eaters always had a similar stench. Normally that smell didn’t bother him so much, but then he wasn’t normally trapped in an airless car with one. Wrinkling his nose, he sighed, and asked, “Why are you driving me there again?”
“Because you don’t know your way around Toronto,and Sam didn’t want to take the chance of your getting lost,” Bricker reminded him with amusement. “She also worried you might crack up your car on the icy roads and didn’t want to risk that either. Since Mortimer wanted to discuss her turning and wouldn’t let her drive you herself, she reluctantly decided I should deliver you to Alex. I’m to report back to her on every word that passes between you,” he announced with amusement.
“Right,” Cale muttered, beginning to wonder what he’d gotten himself into here. Perhaps it really wasn’t worth it to humor Marguerite after all. Not if it meant going to a restaurant where he would be surrounded by the stench of mortal food … and this Alex woman thought he was a chef for God’s sake! What on earth had possessed Sam to claim he could cook? He didn’t know the first damned thing about cooking and didn’t want to. On the other hand, if it turned out Marguerite was right, and this woman was his life mate … Well, he supposed that might make it worth it … and he really might start to like food again then.
“Here.” Bricker reached blindly into the backseat to retrieve a book. He offered the large volume to Cale, saying, “Sam thought it might help if you gave this a quick once-over on the way.”
“Cooking for Dummies?” Cale read with something akin to horror as his gaze moved with distaste over the picture of the dead, headless, featherless, and trussed-up roasted chicken on the plate next to a bunch of equally roasted vegetables.
“Well, it can’t hurt,” Bricker said with amusement. “Alex is expecting a world-class chef.”
Cale tossed the book back on the seat behind him with disgust. “I have no intention of cooking. I’ll just go there, meet the woman, see if I can read her, and leave when I can.”
“Or,” Bricker drawled, “you’re going to go there, discover Marguerite was on the mark again, that you can’t read Alex, and you’ll be desperate for an excuse to stay close to her as you try to lay claim to her as a life mate.”
Cale snorted. “If I can’t read her, and she is my life mate, I won’t need an excuse to stay close to her. She’ll want me there.”
“Oh, man, do you have a lot to learn about mortal women,” Bricker said dryly.
Cale glanced at him sharply. “Surely, if she is my life mate, she will—”
“What? Drop into your palm like a plum, ripe for the picking? “ Bricker tore his gaze from the road to glance at him with obvious amusement. When Cale merely scowled, he shook his head and turned his attention back to the road. “You weren’t paying attention back there at the house, were you? Didn’t you catch the fact that Mortimer and Sam are life mates, have been together for eight months, and yet she’s only now agreeing to the turn? Mortal women do have free will, you know.”
Cale’s eyes widened as he realized that was true.
“And contrary to what the movie claims, Earth girls aren’t easy.”
“What?” Cale asked, completely bewildered by the reference.
“Never mind,” Bricker muttered with disgust. “Thepoint is, while we grow up with the knowledge that someday we will meet that special someone who can’t read us and whom we can’t read and so will, therefore, be our perfect life mate, mortal women don’t. They grow up being taught that men are cheating, lying bastards and being told that they will have to kiss a lot of toads before they find the one who will be their prince. And then they’re taught to be cautious because some princes are actually wolves in princely clothing.”
Cale peered at the younger immortal with dismay. “Are you serious?”
“You don’t watch much TV, do you?” Bricker asked dryly, and then suggested, “Get a clue, watch a movie or two tonight. It will bring you up to date on the state of the war of the sexes.”
“War?”
“Yes, war,” Bricker said solemnly. “Women aren’t the sweet little biddable gals pleased just to have a bit of attention anymore. If they have a man in their lives, it’s because they want him there, not because they need him to take care of them. Today’s women can take care of themselves. At least a lot of them can. And as a successful businesswoman, Alex is one of the ones who can. In fact, dragging her attention away from her business is most likely going to be more of a struggle than anything. Especially right now,” he added grimly.