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"Am I keeping you from something? I can't tell if you’re checking the time or if you're expecting a call, but in either case, if you need to get going . . ." The satyr raised his hand, gesturing towards the door, and she flushed, knowing she was being rude.
"Sorry, no I don't need — I don't have anywhere to be. Everyone knows I had a work lunch today, I have someone running my table. They can do without me for the afternoon."
Tris leaned over the table, eyes sparkling, and Grace realized that she'd made a terrible mistake.
"So if it's not the time you’re checking, then it's a message. A message you've not yet received, but one you're waiting for on pins and needles. Let's see . . . you've already established you’re away for the afternoon and you have everything at work covered, so it's not a message from the farm. The only bit of business concerning you right now is this harvest festival contract, which is the whole point of us meeting here today, so we can safely assume it's not work-related.”
“Actually, we have a lot of catching up to—” She attempted to redirect, but Tris paid her no mind, barreling on as if she’d not spoken at all.
“And if it's not work related, then it must be personal. Your family lives a distance away, and if anyone were sick or in hospital, I can't imagine you would be taking the time to shoot the breeze with me today and not go rushing to their side, or at least you would've told me about it when you arrived, just in case an emergency phone call necessitated you stepping away. I specifically remember you saying you were an only child—”
“When,” she cut in, having no recollection of having such a conversation with the smug satyr. “When would I have ever told you that?”
“Five years ago, 50th anniversary party at the Selsby Yacht Club,” he shot back without missing a beat. “The Bristol sisters had a catfight in the coatroom and you said it was moments like that when you were glad to be an only child, right before one of them toppled into the chocolate fountain.”
Grace sat back, chagrined. Tris was a valuable acquaintance, she reminded herself. He knew everyone and his mind was like a steel trap for details, but the same attributes that made him valuable also made him dangerous. He never forgot a thing.
“So it's not work and it's not family, that means you've either found time for a hobby, or you're fucking someone new." He sat back smugly, the sparkle in his eye telling her that he absolutely did not believe she had somehow found time for a hobby. "Gracie, I do believe you owe me a little something. Who is he?"
He didn't bother stating it as a question, and she heard the demand for what it was. She withered in her seat, wondering why it was that the whole town came to this coffee shop, day in and day out, knowing everyone else was there to watch them living their lives in public. Far better to be invisible, she thought.Big words for an exhibitionist. She could never let Tris know about the way she and Merrick had met, not unless she wanted every last resident of Cambric Creek to know she regularly masturbated in front of her open window for audiences by the following afternoon.
"I'm not actually fucking anyone." He cocked an eyebrow in sly disbelief. "I went out on a date the other night, he's new in town. A mothman. He's a scientist, works at the school." She didn't bother holding back, because she knew if Tris wanted to find out, he would root out the information before she'd even crossed the Black Sheep's parking lot. "We've only been out that one time, and I thought we were going to make plans for this weekend, but I haven't heard from him yet. There. Are you happy now?"
He tutted. "These men act like boys, and then they wonder why they're treated like infants in their relationships. If you haven't heard from him by Thursday, delete his number. You're too good for that."
"I don't know if I'm actually all that interested in the dating part of it, to tell you the truth."
His laughter had the sharp ring of a bell, and he leaned across the table conspiratorially once more.
"If all you're looking for is a little fucky fucky, that's easy to find. If you're in the market for a horny partner, I'll compile you a list. This town has no shortage of them. You know, you humans get a bad rap for this sort of thing, but there’s at least three folks on every block hungry to bury their giant—"
The Orcish doctor at the table behind them stood abruptly, a phone call from the hospital ending their coffee break short, necessitating his companions to stand as well, to let him out. "I may as well go back with you," the human doctor sighed, the girl in scrubs groaning her agreement. When Grace turned back to Tris, he was still talking.
"—tight little human holes. So say the word, if you want to list."
Grace glared. "Let me guess, your name will be at the top of said list."
Tris grinned widely, gesturing to his lap beneath the table. "I'm a satyr. If I weren't horny all the time, I would just be a goat, Grace."
She squirmed in her seat, thinking of her neighbor and the far from innocent neighborly thoughts she'd had.See, it's probably a good thing this all happened and Merrick landed outside your window. Otherwise you really would've ended up with the horny satyr across the street."What about you," she challenged. "What have you been up to? You have to tell me, now that you made me tell you mine."
He chuckled, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders. The coffee shop was now packed, and they needed to vacate their table. It was just as well, she thought. She needed to get back, needed to corner Cal and give him the third degree over Jackson Hemming and whether or not he was going to let her put out a sign at the street.
"I know this will shock you, but I'm not currently involved with anyone." Grace rolled her eyes, and Tris scoffed. "Not seriously. Don't get me wrong, I've been fucking a beautiful little half-shifter, Sulya Slade's second cousin’s brother-in-law's daughter, or something like that. But it's hardly a relationship." His smile stretched, his eyes glimmering like diamonds, those ridiculous curls tumbling over his forehead once more. "I'm pretty sure she hates me, actually. Which just makes it more fun."
Grace gathered her things, pushing up from the table. "You are literally the worst person I know, Tris. Don't ever change."
♥?♥?♥?
She'd only been back at Saddlethorne for a few minutes, when she decided she’d made a mistake in returning that day at all. The goblin from the farmstand who'd been covering duty on her table had practically fled the moment she returned, mumbling about the unbearable heat and the nonstop parade of snot-nosed brats that afternoon. She rolled her eyes, taking her place behind the welcome table, powering on her tablet, and stared out at . . . nothing. The parking lot was empty. Whatever shoppers had been in earlier, the heat of the day had effectively frightened them all off, leaving her to bake beneath her umbrella alone.
It wasn't long before Caleia sought her out, dragging dramatically across the concrete until she reached the table, dropping into a chair with a groan. "We shouldn't even be open today, it's too fucking hot. No one is coming out in this heat. You should tell Cal it’s a waste of payroll to be here."
"At least not this afternoon,” Grace agreed. “We might pick up again in the evening, but you're right. No one is coming out in this right now. ButI’mnot telling Cal anything."
"How did your gossip lunch go? Did he have any sneaky insight on what we can do to impress them?"
Grace dropped back in her chair, head lolling. She scowled at the interior of the umbrella, thinking of Tris and his nosy questions. "Not really. Well, yes and no. He confirmed everything I already suspected — they want to know that the festival will be in good hands and they don't need to step in and worry about any of the details, and we’ll be fine on that. Details are what I do. But then he also had a suggestion to butter them up that I don't think Cal is going to like very much.”
