The demon thing was also a problem, but an issue Indy momentarily forgot about. The Malik thing kept ambushing him at every opportunity, turning his morning into one long ass torture session.
Indy was so horny, he was ready to hump the counter.
Finishing the last bundle, he set it with the others, then straightened and rolled his shoulders. Through the front window, the street outside looked completely ordinary, people walking past, a car pulling up to park, a dog being walked by someone in a yellow jacket.
Indy turned back toward the office.
“You want more coffee?” he called. “I’m making another pot. The first one was good, but the afternoon pot is always better because I use slightly more grounds, which I probably shouldn’t admit because it sounds like I was holding back earlier and I wasn’t. It’s just a ratio thing.”
There was a brief pause from the back room.
“Sounds good,” Malik said.
Indy filled the machine and stood next to it while it ran, listening to it gurgle. The smell of coffee beginning to brew was so rich and bold that Indy inhaled deeply.
He was attracted to his mate. This was not news. The humongous guy was currently occupying approximately a third of his back room and making the space look extra small, while Indy was making coffee and trying not to think about the fact that last night Malik had kissed him against a wall.
Also, he was trying not to think about demons but failing at both simultaneously.
The coffee finished. He poured two mugs, added nothing to his own and remembered without asking that Malik took his black, which he knew because he’d watched his mate drink coffee three times now and at no point had anything been added to it. Indy was not keeping a mental inventory of Malik’s preferences. Simple observation. Purely professional.
He pushed through the office door with both mugs. The room was crammed and slightly dim, lit by the overhead fluorescent that Indy kept meaning to replace with something warmer. Buckets of stems lined the walls in varying stages of processing. Malik was looking at a bundle of eucalyptus that Indy had left hanging to dry from the ceiling hook.
Their eyes met when he strode in.
Indy held out the mug. “Eucalyptus,” he said. “It dries better hanging. It gets sad and flat-looking if you don’t, which is not the aesthetic I’m going for.”
Malik took the mug, his fingers brushing Indy’s in the handoff. “I wasn’t judging the eucalyptus.”
“It felt like judgment. The eucalyptus is sensitive.”
The corner of Malik’s mouth twitched. He looked back at the bundle then at Indy, and then he took a sip of coffee and said nothing, which was deeply unfair given that he was doing that focused quiet thing with his eyes that made Indy feel like the only object in the room.
Indy was about to say something when the bell above the front door chimed.
Setting his mug on the worktable, Malik stepped back, moving deep into the shadow near the rear wall. By the time Indy had turned toward the door, his mate had gone completely still, vanishing from sight.
With a shake of his head at the fact his mate was so good at disappearing, Indy walked up front.
The man standing inside the shop door was large with broad shoulders and a heavy build. His hair was dark, cropped close, and his face was arranged into an expression that was technically a smile.
Indy’s fox stilled, recognizing something that didn’t fit the category of anything safe. The smell hit him a half-second after the instinct, a wrongness that coated the back of his mouth.
The same wrongness as the two figures in the rain.
Indy didn’t react. He kept the counter between them, his expression pleasant, his hands loose, and his voice normal when he said, “Hi there. Can I help you find something?”
The guy looked around the shop in a slow, proprietary way that started at the window display and ended on Indy.
“Nice place.” The stranger’s voice was low and unhurried, each word given enough room to breathe.
“Thank you.” Although Indy’s fox was screaming, he managed to maintain his neutral expression. “I like it. We’ve got some really nice seasonal stock in right now if you’re looking for something for someone. Freesia, a few late dahlias, the sunflowers are amazingly good this week.”
Instead of glancing at the flowers, Mr. Mysterious took one step farther into the shop then another, his pace relaxed.
“I’m looking for someone,” the guy said with a slight accent.
Indy’s pulse climbed ten notches. “I deal in arrangements, not people. Maybe the cops could help you.” And hopefully arrest you for looking so menacing.
