Page 8 of Another Man’s Treasure

I watch as he departs as gracefully as ever. Gripping my coffee cup, I don’t realize how hard I’m clutching it until the ceramic cracks. Blinking hard, I shove the cup away from me.

“You wanna explain that to me?” The male to my left breaks through my thoughts as he slides a big arm to the back of the bench. His fingers nearly touch my shoulder, and I shudder, shaking my head. I do owe him some sort of explanation, though.

Forcing a thankful smile, I scoot slightly away from him on the bench. “Shitty ex. But for real, thank you for saving my bacon at the last minute. I’ll stop our table war for a week, even two!”

He cocks his head to the side, green eyes drifting down to my mouth and perusing for a moment before scanning back up. “You put me in an awkward position, Cutie Pie. I don’t like it when other males do that.”

I slide off the bench and grab my bag, throwing it over my shoulder. Up close, he smells of winter breeze and pine, and I don’t need to lean in, even though a teensy part of me sorta wants to. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again…I didn’t catch your name.”

He lifts his chin, looking down his nose at me. “That’s ‘cause you never asked for it before taking what you needed.”

The accusation sparks an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. He’s not wrong. And if I wasn’t totally desperate, I wouldn’t have done it.

When he doesn’t offer his name in the silence that follows, I run a hand through my hair. “May I ask what it is now?”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Don’t think you deserve to know at this point.”

I thrum the table with the fingers of my left hand. “Well, thank you again, He Who Has No Name. You really did save me, and I appreciate that. I honestly would not have thrust myself upon you like that if it wasn’t life or death.”

His only answer is a disgruntled little sound, and he doesn’t look up again.

He must start looking, though, because the base of my wings aches as I leave the coffee shop. It’s like he can reach out and touch me with a look, and all I know is it’s disconcerting. I had that once upon a time with Saint, and I don’t think I’ll want that ever again.

Wilder

That gargoyle is a piece of work. I ain’t exactly innocent, though; I did pick this particular shirt—part of my winnings from the circuit a couple seasons ago—specifically to taunt him. I guess some small part of me didn’t think he was all that serious about the table.

Then for him to come over and literally demand I act like we’re together.

Just…odd. I debate whether I should even mention this to Willa. She’ll examine my face and tell me my innermost thoughts. It’s weirdest when she knows what I’m thinking before I even do.

Hours pass at the coffee shop as I go through my list of questions for the Sandovals’ representative. Artur Sandoval’s retired and didn’t want to handle the sale himself. His sons didn’t want the family estate or their line of prized bucking bulls. All in all, I’d rather deal with someone unattached to the family. Folks who are too attached to their properties are harder to buy from.

Eventually, the sun dips low over the horizon, casting long shadows over Main Street and into the coffee shop. Checking the comm watch that allows me to make calls within Pine Gulch, I note the time and begin to gather my things. I’m meeting the rep over at the wraith property on the other side of town. Initially, I’d planned to take the haven’s magical train, Mabel, from downtown out to the wraith hotel. Now that the time’s getting closer, I find myself anxious to just get there.

This is when it’d be nice to have wings and simply bullet into the sky. As it is, I didn’t bring my truck downtown when I came to the coffee shop this morning. I did plan that little stunt with my tee, and it landed perfectly. A victorious thrill runs through me, reliving the look on that male’s face when he saw it.

No, Oz’s face. The vampire called him Oz. Like the human wizard? I wonder if it’s short for something.

Weird. I mull it over as I leave the cafe behind and head back to my place to grab my truck. I consider him the entire half-hour drive out to the opulent wraith property. Dark spires split the even darker sky, elegant and timeless in a way only wraith manage. When I drop my car at the valet, one of the shadowy hosts gets silently into it and drives off. A second wraith hands me a valet ticket and points me toward the restaurant where I’m meeting the Sandovals’ contact.

Turning from the front door, I walk around the edge of the property to the shopping area, a series of inlaid stone streets that interlock to form a miniature downtown. I locate The Smithy, an upscale steakhouse where I’m meant to meet the contact. An elegantly simple sign frames a chunky wood door leading into the restaurant.

Inside, a beautiful minotaur hostess smiles at me. “Mister Lane? I’ll take your coat if you like.” She winks as I shrug it off and hand it to her to coat-check. “I actually recognize you from your bull riding days. So excited to hear a rumor you might be relocating to Pine Gulch.”

I smile. “You heard that, huh?”

She hands my coat to another minotaur, who disappears into the coat closet with it. “The monster you’re meeting has already arrived, so let me show you to your table.”

She guides me around a black velvet curtain and into the opulent, masculine dining room. Curved pods are constructed around the room to make the seating areas more private. I suspect the rep I’m meeting will want that, given the sensitive nature of what we’re discussing.

I’m lost in thought as the hostess directs me to a covered table almost like entering a cave. As I step inside, I’m shocked to find the black-haired vampire from the coffee shop earlier..the one Oz was hiding from. He sits at the far right, one long leg crossed over the other. Now he wears a gorgeous three-piece suit. Something expensive from a custom tailor, if I had a guess. Vampires love all of that pricey shit.

“Well, well, well…” he purrs in a throaty voice. “Wilder Lane, I presume? I should have recognized you earlier, I suppose, but I was…distracted.”

That makes two of us. Of course, I didn’t know which rep I’d be meeting with, or I’d have researched them ahead of time. All I knew was that the Sandoval family got representation at the last minute, a change I didn’t love but had no control over.

I lean over the table, trying to dispel a rising sense of discomfort as I reach for the handsome male’s hand.