His best friend took that in for a minute.
“Okay,” he finally said. “I get it now. I might not agree completely, but I hear you.” Matthew’s chest rose and fell on his own silent sigh. Then he tugged Karl into a hug, squeezing tightly. “Good luck, man.”
“Thanks.” Karl squeezed back. “Got a feeling I’m gonna need it.”
15
Against her better judgment, Molly spent her Sunday evening discussing the validity of Satan as a fictional love interest.
Up until that very morning, she’d had zero intention of attending the Nasty Wenches book club meeting. As she’d told Karl two days ago, there was no point in putting down roots that she’d only have to rip up again, sooner rather than later. And she wasn’t a fool. If she went to the meeting, even her best efforts might not be able to stop the tendrils, however doomed they might be, from unfurling underground.
Athena. Matthew. Janel. All Nasty Wenches, apparently. All people she already liked. Hell, even Lise had overcome her shyness—not to mention the occasional awkwardness of discussing her own books as if she were simply a reader—and joined the group last month.
If Molly went, she’d probably enjoy herself too much. Which was a real problem.
Then there was the issue of Karl. Also a Nasty Wench, and the entire reason she’d changed her mind about attending.
When he’d called her that morning to reiterate his invitation, she’d worried about residual awkwardness from the way they’d parted yesterday. Wondered whether he’d employ all the sound and fury he typically employed to disguise his hurt feelings.
Instead, his tone had been casual, as if nothing notable had happened between them recently. And in typical Karl fashion—i.e., without much preamble—he’d told her he needed her at the meeting. Not because he wouldn’t finish his chosen book and hoped she could act as a human CliffsNotes—by the time they talked, he was already halfway through his audiobook ofBedded by Beelzebub—but because he required a bodyguard.
“Wouldn’t let the Wenches visit when I was sick. Frustrated their caretaking urges,” he explained. “First time they see me again? Those smut-loving busybodies are gonna fuckingswarmme, Dearborn. Bury me in soggy tuna casseroles and weird-ass home remedies. Few of the damn harpies might evenhug me.”
He sounded utterly appalled, that big faker. They both knew he secretly loved hugs, however reluctantly he accepted them. Probably adored tuna casseroles too, soggy or not.
“You coming?” His voice had suddenly gone tight with tension. “Need you to help fend them off, Molly. Please.” A lengthy pause. “Besides, you’ll like everyone there. Your type of people. Could be a ready-made community for you. If you, uh, wanted that. At some point.”
In typical Karl fashion once more, he’d finally said the quiet part loud. He didn’t need a freakingbodyguard. He wasn’t inviting her to the Nasty Wenches meeting to protect him from casseroles and hugs. Not at all. Despite what she’d told him, he wanted her to put down some of her ill-fated roots, in hopes she’d decide not to rip them up after all.
Responding to him had taken a few moments of thought.
She really shouldn’t encourage his dream of getting her to stay in Harlot’s Bay long-term. But she was flattered that he wanted her at the meeting so darn much. Enough that he’d even employed hisbest manners—an actualplease!—for the repeat invitation. And heaven knew she couldn’t resist watching a dozen people fuss over the crankiest man alive.
Also, yes, maybe shewasembarrassingly eager to see him again. Not to mention more tempted than she cared to admit by the thought of a ready-made community full of people who might make her feel valued and understood.
“Fine,” she’d eventually told him. “I’ll go. But I’ll drive myself, in case I want to duck out early.”
He’d hung up before she could change her mind. Then turned off his damn phone for the rest of the day so she couldn’t cancel on him.
So now here she was, at the modest, cozy home of a fiftysomething white librarian named Bethany. Seated, improbably enough, on a floral-upholstered couch with Lise on one side and Janel on the other, listening to sweet, whispery Bethany talk about gargoyle junk.
“—and once she mounts Lucifer’s stone dick and rides him to climax, he breaks free from his marble prison for the first time in countless centuries and becomes flesh and blood once more.” Bethany carefully buttered one of the muffins Karl had brought especially for her. “Although his penis remains stone. Well, all three penises, to be exact.”
Molly blinked. Oh, wow.
From his seat nearby, Matthew leaned over to his wife and spoke quietly. “Again, my apologies on behalf of human men, sweetheart.”
“Bethany hasn’t even told you what his tail can do yet.” Athena sounded jazzed. “It has a suction-y tip. And it’s ridged!”
Matthew groaned and bowed his head. “Of course it is.”
Say what you would about the Nasty Wenches—those easilyshocked should stay far, far away—but they were damned entertaining. Not to mention welcoming. From the moment Bethany had greeted her at the front door, Molly had been adopted into the group warmly and without fuss. Included in conversations. Asked for her opinions.
Yes, sometimes said opinions concerned the potential sexual sensitivity of devil horns and whether cloven hooves could ever be considered hot in a nonliteral sense, but Molly did in fact have thoughts on those matters. Thoughts the book club members had listened to, with seeming appreciation.
Upon Karl’s own arrival, the poor man had dodged a swarm of concerned book club members and tried to sit next to her. Only to be shooed away by Janel, Lise, and Athena, who’d claimed Molly’s proximity like a prize.
Early in the evening, he’d kept an eagle eye on her anyway, shoulders bunched in clear worry. Then, once he’d apparently satisfied himself as to her comfort in the situation, his tension had eased. He still glanced over at her often, though. Brought her cookies. Even kissed the top of her head once, which had prompted a number of whispered, excited-sounding conversations around the room.
