Maggie’s eyes go big and round. “Whoa.”
“You’re probably right, though,” Gillian chimes in. “The quiet, sensitive types are always wild in the sack. Plus, he’s hot.” She goes back to her book.
I palm my forehead. “I’m trying not to imagine that. I did see him in a towel, once, though. Lemme just say, that was impressive.”
“Ooh, just how much did you see?” Vienne asks, sliding a fresh drink my way.
“Nothing naughty, you perv,” I tease. “But the man isbuilt.”
The succubus purses her lips. “I wonder if he’s built where it counts, if you get my drift.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say without thinking.
They all stare at me. “I thought you said you didn’t see it,” Maggie says.
“I didn’t. I’m just, you know, assuming.”
Gillian narrows her teal-and-gold eyes at me. “Uh-uh. Try again. There’s something you aren’t telling us.”
I smirk, and Maggie flicks me with her forefinger. “What aren’t you saying?”
I take a big drink for courage, draining the glass, then grin. “Okay, fine. I might have felt it pressing against me this one time. When we were kissing. Basically making out.”
“Juliet Regan Crawford! I can’t believe I’m just now hearing this.” Maggie looks both delighted and outraged. “You should’ve texted me as soon as it happened.”
“Margaret Mildred Crawford!” I singsong back, signaling for another drink. “What are we, fifteen?”
Maggie gasps. “I can’t believe you just revealed my middle name in public! You know how much I hate it.” She giggles.
“You should be honored to be named after your grandma,” I tell her.
“I am, but that doesn’t mean I love the name. It’s the sentiment I appreciate.”
I shrug and take another sip of whatever delightful pink concoction is in my glass. Fresh ones just keep magically appearing. Vienne is areallygood bartender. “At least your parents named you for family. I was named after tragic characters.”
She makes a sympathetic moue. “Your dad really was going through a Shakespeare phase when you were born.” She drinks her margarita, then narrows her eyes. “Hey, stop distracting me and tell me more about Spenser. What’s going on with you two?”
I lean closer, trying to whisper, but not sure I manage it. “I don’t knooooow, Mags. He said he likes me, he took me flying, and he kissed me breathless. But then I said I wanted to take it slow, and he’s a good guy so he agreed, and now nothing is happening.”
Vienne leans close, elbows on the bar. “Time for you to make a move, hon.”
“I can’t. I’ll get all awkward.”
“He won’t care,” Vienne says. “He’ll just be thrilled you want to take off his pants.”
“She has a point,” Gillian adds, setting down the elf-sex novel.
“You’re into him, right?” Maggie asks.
I nod. “He’s different.”
“Different?”
“Mmhmm. Unusual.”
“Yes,” Maggie says, “I understand the meaning of the words. I’m asking how. Like, in what way?
“Like he has this reputation for being quiet, but it’s not just that. He’s an observer. He knows what all his best customers like to read, he knows what his employees bring for lunch, he knowswhat books are going to hit the bestseller list before it happens. Instead of talking all the time, he’s paying attention.”
