“Ah, yes. When you called me—let me see if I can recall the precise words—a dick, Professor Jerkface, and the demon responsible for your late-emergent so-called ‘daddy issues.’ Surely you meant those as compliments.”
The bartender delivers our beers, and I gratefully grab them both and nod toward a nearby table, hoping that’s the end of it.
“But theyarecompliments!” She bounces along behind me. “You have this… this way about you. It’s very firm and commanding and?—”
“And perhaps I’ll spare us both a future eternity of awkward moments by swiftly redirecting this conversation.” I set down the beers and pull out her chair. “Have a seat. Would you like some water? I’ll get us some water. Perhaps a snack as well. Stay right here.”
“As youcommand, Professor.” She laughs, but that look in her eyes…
Fuck. Me.
Something dark and desirous simmers in them now, stirring an answering heat deep in my chest. And further south, which is rather inconvenient, to say the least.
I head back for the bar before the problem becomes any more… pronounced.
A crush.Hellfire.
In the short time it takes me to fetch the waters and return to the table, Miss Bonnivarde has somehow vanished. After a spike of panic and a frantic search, I finally spot her by the jukebox.
In the arms of another man.
An elderly chap, but still. A chap nevertheless. A chap who is notme—the demon who’s been devoting his waking hours to her education and betterment. The demon who allows himself to be berated with names like Professor Jerkface.
The demon she, by her own words, has acrushon.
I set down our waters, march over to the entwined couple, and glare.
“Uh oh,” the old man says with a snicker. “Looks like your boyfriend’s back. Guess I should skedaddle.”
“Off you go,” I say, at the same time Miss Bonnivarde says, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
The old man chuckles again. “I’ll let you two figure it out. My prostate’s acting up again, anyway. Thanks for the dance, sweet cheeks.”
“Any time!” She waves at him, then pops her hands on her hips, glaring right back at me. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“You chased off my dance partner. During a good song, at that.”
“And?”
“The gentlemanly thing would be to offer to take his place.”
“Dancing requires touching.Actualtouching. An activity we willnotbe engaging in. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like for us to return to our table and properly hydrate and sit in complete silence so that I might gather my thoughts and my composure, in that order, preventing an emotional outburst that results in me transforming into my demonic form and terrorizing every last elderly man in this bar from ever asking you for a dance again.”
“Ohh!” She claps, bouncing excitedly on her toes. “That would be the highlight of my whole freakingyear. You’re even more sexy when you monster out. But, I didn’t peg you as the jealous type, Professor. I’m flattered.”
For fuck’s sake, that was the wrong tack.
“I’m not jealous. I’m merely…” I search for the word. Draw nothing but blanks. “Just come back to the table, would you?”
“Whatever you say, Professor Jerkface.” She laughs, and winks, and totters over to our table, leaving a trail of her sweet and floral scent for me to follow.
I never,evershould have walked out that door with her tonight.
“Drink,” I demand, shoving the water toward her.And let us hope neither of us remembers this interaction come tomorrow…
She finally,finallydoes as I ask. “Happy now?”
