Page 18 of How Not to Date a Demon

Much to Maeve’s surprise, he finished the whole meal. Extra triple salt included. And he didn’t even blink.

Not while eating, not while chugging water after the whole thing. Not even when he helped clear the table and wiped down the counter, including the salt she’d spilled by ‘accident.’

What the fuck? She grumbled as she put the dry dishes away, Galen long gone to the bedroom after he washed. He’d been so dead on his feet she’d bumped him out of the way and taken over the drying. It was the least she could do after she’d clogged his arteries.

And of course she was using her alone time to the best of her abilities, pulling up the website from earlier and scanning it again.

I thought salt was supposed to repel him.

But he ate without blinking. Shouldn’t it have burned or something?

The article had no further information of use to her, and she closed the tab with a sigh.

If that hadn’t worked, surely something else on the list would.

Maeve would just have to learn it the hard way: trial by fire.

Silver.

She was sure the website meant something more literal. Like trying to stab him with a silver stake.

But I mean, if you stab anyone it’s going to hurt.

It took her exactly three seconds to figure out how to discreetly expose Galen to silver without maiming him.

Pulling up an online retailer, she added a brand-new set of jewelry she’d been eyeing to the cart and checked out all within a few minutes.

Feeling proud, she laid her phone face down on the counter and sat her head in her hands.

Her elation lasted all of three seconds.

Now the only thing she could do was wait. And waiting was not something Maeve did well.

Should she go ahead with something else on the list? She hadn’t read anywhere that she had to go in order.

Tapping her nails on the desk at work, she wavered back and forth. What did she have to lose?

Fuck it, she was making her own rules. Maeve would have to try iron.

After returning from another day of hell filled with endless phone calls and dumb questions from the population, she made dinner again like the excellent girlfriend she was.

“Cornbread?” Galen asked as he appeared behind her. He smelled clean from his shower, wrapping his arms around her as she stirred a small portion of soup.

“I was feeling soupy today,” she said. “But not crackers. So cornbread it is.”

The fact that the cornbread was now cooling in a cast iron skillet had absolutely nothing to do with her dinner menu.

“Sounds great to me. Thanks for cooking again, but I wouldn’t have minded, just so you know.”

She smiled. “Trying out for the job of househusband, huh?”

“If you’d give me a chance,” he teased, leaning down to nip her shoulder.

It sent chills over her skin, and she shivered then wiggled away from his embrace. “No more touchy. You can set the table for me,” she suggested, bumping her hip against him playfully.

Galen groaned, but finally released her and trailed to the cabinets to do as requested.

It made her frown as she stirred the soup, the many vegetables spinning and swirling in the broth. Galen was a good guy and a better boyfriend. The stuff they talked about was already improving. Each day another little bud of hope bloomed, and with it, trust in what he’d promised her.