“Nah.” He shakes his head, walking toward me until we stand inches apart. I’m not used to this new face, but I get the feeling he’s blushing. “I mean, a house is not a home ’til you got someone to share it with…”
Clawrece protests, snapping her jaw with a loud crack. It’s way too close to my heels for comfort. Despite how adorable she is, I am definitely not used to having a gator as a house pet.
I jump into Gil’s arms. The low chuckle that rumbles in his chest suggests that he doesn’t mind. Still feeling mildly embarrassed for falling so quickly into fight or flight, I untangle myself and watch him lean down to give her a scratch under the neck.
“Ah, that’s what I said about her bark, but she’s just yapping,” Gil says, shaking his head. “Still, Clawrece, you mind your manners around Marina, hm?”
She uses her big pale eyes to tug at Gil’s heart strings till his mock-stern expression has melted, and he’s bent down to pet her.
“Oh, alright, we know you’re a good girl though—aren’t you, my princess?” Gil coos, scratching her under the chin. “Yes, you are!” Clawrece squints up happily; I can’t blame her. That’s a series of words I wouldn’t mind hearing pointed in my direction.
“I think you must have offended her before,” I say, leaning down to study this creature. who is the size of a Great Dane, and has teeth that could slice through me.
Gil guides my hand to give the gator another scritch. Clawrece’s scales are smooth as I run my hand across her stomach and hear happy thuds in response.
“Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t complain about having someone around to give her more belly scratches. As a matter of fact, neither would I.”
“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a belly scratch kind of guy,” I say, my gaze shifting to the cuts of his abs.
“I’m sure there’s a lot of things that have surprised you,” he responds with a sheepish grin. “And to answer your question, my Grampy picked out a good lot of the design. He built this place in the ’70s, and it became mine a few years back when he moved to be closer to the great grandkids of the family. It’s a neat place with lots of trinkets and convenience from your world—most powered off crystals.”
Crystals.
Huh.
Well, that explains the cozy lamps, and the hum of the old refrigerator.
“Honestly, as far as guys I’ve seen in the past, you’ve been more good surprises than bad,” I say, because now that I know that this is really him, things just make sense. “Which reminds me—didn’t you say you had a closet somewhere filled with deep, dark secrets?”
“Oh!” He takes a step back, a smile on his face. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Enough stalling,” I demand, playfully tapping my foot. “Let’s see what you’re so embarrassed about.”
“Embarrassed is a strong word,” he argues, “but I did say you’d tease me—and I stand by it.” Gil takes my hand in his. The webbing between his fingers is so soft I can’t help but run the pad of my thumb across it as he tugs me through the house.
We’re in the back room of Gil’s place; the windows are big with a view of the water, but what catches my attention is an old wooden box instrument with an antenna jutting out from the center. Ignoring the view, I rush toward it, fiddling with the brass knobs on the side.
“Is this a theremin?” I ask, voice laced with uncertainty despite how much of my childhood I spent around my uncle and musical instruments. I’ve never seen one in person.
He blinks a few times, seemingly frozen in place until finally, “It … is, yeah.”
“No way!” I squeak, trying to figure out how to turn it on. I know it’s supposed to make eerie music that would be at home on a sci-fi soundtrack, but I have no idea how it works. I sigh, putting it down. I can’t let something this cool distract me from the task at hand.
“No, wait, not before you show me your nerdy hobby!” I demand, unable to hide the giddy feeling that’s rising up.A real theremin!
“Marina,” he says, gently taking my hands. “Thisis my nerdy hobby.”
Oh, he’s got to be kidding.
“You’re going to have to try harder than that,” I say with a long shake of my head. I turn the box over in my hand and think I might have found the power button. Gil lets out a sigh, and my eyes meet his just in time to watch his mouth fall slack before rising into a smirk.
“If you’d like, I can show you my scrapbooking closet.”
“Now you’re definitely kidding.”
“It’s down the hall,” he says, and God, he’s not joking.
I think I’m in love.
