“Maybe for the next week, or so. See if you’re worth the time and effort,” I tell him, fiddling with my radio knob.
I hit a stop sign and take the second to make sure my auxiliary chord is in and scroll to my Driving playlist of my phone. AC/DC’s “If you want blood (you’ve got it)” blasts on my speakers and I get a sick thrill of watching Dean jump at the loudness and glory that is my epic sound system.
He’s getting cuter by the second, and my vagina wants to grab all the attention.
I pull into the parking lot and secure a space about half a block away from the bookstore, making sure my lady is parked all by her lonesome without the inferior class of Toyotas and Hondas, and God forbid, minivans to take away any of her glory.
Dean practically bolts out of the car; I only get a glimpse of his messenger bag’s tail end as he closes the passenger door. I turn off the car, and step out, feeling my ankle give a little painful squeak of protest as my weight settles on it.
Fucking malocchio.
I lock my car with a beep and keep my pace even and steady. No way in hell am I chasing after a man, especially one that eats up the pavement with his giant strides.
“Hey! I can’t buy you a book if I’m not actually there to pay for it!” I yell out, waving my arms, letting the cool October air slither along my long sleeved shirt underneath my Ducati jacket.
Dean stops, and almost grudgingly looks over his shoulder at me, eyebrows low on his forehead and his mouth firming up like he’s trying to keep whatever’s scrolling through his mind from getting out.
“Why are you taking so long? It’s those damn shoes, isn’t it?” he grumbles, but I keep my leisurely pace. I bolt through my days at work, eating hours like a starving person does a good meal. I’m afraid that if I don’t savour enough of my time when I can, life will just pass me by and I won’t even know how it happened without me realizing it.
“The store isn’t going to get up and move, Dean!” I yell, clicking on the pavement. I exaggerate the sway of my hips, feeling my weight become even more evenly distributed along my heel, and watch Dean’s eyes zero-in.
Oh, yeah. He’s interested alright. I just have to reel him in.
He puts his hands on his hips and squints down at me. Still walking slow as I am, I do eventually get to where he’s standing, right beside a silver Toyota Corolla that’s seen better days. I think of the horror of the rusted frame of the poor car and almost shed a tear at thinking of Roxie in such a predicament.
“I swear, if I lose the last copy of the Stone of Farewell I’m going to start punching things,” he growls.
“My, my, what beautiful teeth you have,” I say, then watch his mouth slam shut to hide them from my view. What the hell did he think I was going to do? Take a lick?
“Just chill out. We’re going to walk in, and I’ll buy you any freaking book you want.” I blow some stray hair out of my face, and let him pull the door open for me so I can walk in first.
I look back at Dean just as he enters the store, and I swear to God, something comes over him. The only other time I’ve seen this kind of look is from Sera whenever we go into a place that has books in it.
Holy shit, his nostrils just flared to pull in a deep breath and his eyes get this lazy quality that reminds me of a cat waking up after the best nap. I wouldn’t mind him turning that look on me – whenever and as often as he can.
“Thea Katieeeeeeeeeee!”
Only one kid calls me aunt in Greek, and knows how to wind himself so tight around your legs that you could just teeter over like a felled tree. I windmill my arms to keep upright and look down at the face of my own little sort-of-nephew.
“Hey, Chicken Little! Where’s Sera?” I say, ruffling his hair. I look down into blue eyes and see a little twinkle there that I hope isn’t supposed to mean he’s going to give me, Sera and Hunter a lot of gray hairs growing up.
His arms stay wound around my legs just below the knee, squeezing me tight for a half-assed hug. Matty smiles up at me with dimples like his dad’s and a flush to his face that he probably inherited from his father, too.
“You feeling okay?” I ask, pushing back the hair off his forehead, wrinkling my nose when I find his skin there is all clammy. My heart trips up its rhythm in my chest, and I can’t hide the panic in my movements as I whip my head around, searching for Sera.
“I’m fantastic!” he crows, jumping in place, and abruptly lets go of my legs. I think that could be a reference to something but I’m getting freaked out and where the flying fuck is Sera?
“Hi!” Matty calls out, and I look down to see my little peep staring up and up and up at Dean. Matty gives a wave, somehow getting his entire body behind it, and gives the Viking a gigawatt of a smile. “I’m Matty. What’s your name?”