Page 30 of Fated to the Gargoyle

Devon’s wiping down his station when I come back through, looking as worn down as my feet feel. “You’re doing great, Devon,” I tell him on my way past.

He smiles at me, tired as it is, and I mean what I said. The boy went from breaking a plate a night to keeping that machine fed all shift, and he’d never even seen a commercial dishwasher when he started.

I throw Lamar a wave on my way out anyway, because I was raised right. He doesn’t wave back, a whole grown man giving me the silent treatment over one little no. Shadow Suds can have him.

The night has cooled off, and the sidewalk is empty where I told a certain gargoyle to wait. I step off the curb pouting, already dreaming about my shower. Then I glance back at the diner. Soren is up on the roofline, and this time he’s not alone.

The gargoyle beside him is broader through the shoulders and chest, built even heavier than my Soren. I wave up at them, and two sets of wings spread against the night sky. They drop from the roof together, Soren landing light in front of me while the big one comes down careful behind me.

I turn around to face him. “You must be the brother.”

He folds one wing forward across his chest and bows his head over it. “Greetings, madam.”

“This is my brother, Sable,” Soren says. “I mentioned him last night.”

“I remember.” I give Sable a once-over, and he holds still for it, patient about being inspected. He’s all manners and posture, which is a funny thing to notice on someone wearing a loincloth.

Shy never lasts long around me. I pull the measuring tape out of my apron pocket, because a woman stays ready. “This is actually great. I’ve got both of you here.”

I crouch down and hook the tape at Sable’s clawed foot, stretching it up the long way to his waist. “Damn, y’all are big.”

Sable stiffens under the tape. “Brother,” he says over my head, “is your mate always this intrusive?”

I stand up with my number. “Excuse me? I’m not the one walking around with my whole ass on display.”

“She does not fear us in the least,” Sable tells his brother.

“No.” Soren stands a little taller saying it. “She beat me with a stick.”

Sable turns and takes a long look at me. “A stick.”

“He broke into my apartment,” I say, pointing the measuring tape at Soren. “That’s on him.”

“I would never allow it,” Soren says.

I turn to him. “Allow what now?”

“Your body on display.” His wings ruffle up behind him. “I will keep you covered.”

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes and wave him closer. “Come here. Lift me up so I can get your brother’s top measurements.”

He has me off the ground so fast I squeal. One big arm scoops under me, and Soren grins the whole time he’s holding me out toward his brother. Sable frowns at us both, but he holds his position for the tape.

“What is this for?” Sable asks.

“You two cannot keep walking around like this.” I stretch the tape across the span of his shoulders and keep the number in my head. Then I kick my feet, and Soren sets me down easy.

I wrap the tape around Sable’s waist next. “You both need clothes, and Soren’s just lucky enough to have a mate who knows how to sew.” I pull the tape free and fish my pen and notepad out of the apron hanging off my shoulder. “But I can’t make a thing without your measurements.”

Sable nods once, and I jot his numbers down while the brothers fall into their own conversation.

“We should go tonight,” Sable says. “See what condition the cabin is in and begin the repairs.”

I straighten up. “Hold on. You have land?”

“Yes,” Sable says. “In the mountains, beside the wolf territory.”

“And how are y’all planning to pay for all these repairs?” I ask, moving the tape down to start on Soren’s legs.