20. Sparkle
SPARKLE
I’m halfway through my second apple tart when Beau narrows his eyes at me from across the table. I keep chewing. He keeps staring.
“What?” I finally ask around my bite.
Beau leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. His over-the-ear headphones are bright blue today, and one ear is pushed back so he can hear us better. “Something happened.”
“Lots of things happen.”
“Something happened with Lucien.”
My tail gives a happy little flick beside my chair. Fucking traitor.
Lark catches the movement and grins. Wren looks between us with entirely too much interest while Gabe calmly drinks his coffee like he has no intention of participating in this interrogation. I look to him for help anyway.
He raises his mug. “Don’t involve me.”
“Coward.” I take another bite of my tart and refuse to look at anyone.
“You kissed him,” Beau says.
I choke. Wren immediately pushes my water toward me. I wheeze and grab the water.
“You kissed him!” Lark practically vibrates beside me.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Beau points under the table. “Your tail is giving you away.”
I grab the offending appendage and pull it into my lap. Apparently, I can’t trust any part of my own body anymore. “Fine. I kissed him.”
Beau makes a happy little chirp noise, and Lark grabs my arm. Wren smiles at me from across the table, but Gabe’s expression softens in that quiet way of his.
“How was it?” Beau asks.
My face heats immediately. “Really nice.”
Lark’s eyebrows shoot up. “Nice?”
“Very nice.” I shove another bite of tart into my mouth before they can get more details out of me, but the memory has my tail squirming against my stomach.
Lucien’s hands on my waist. His lips against mine.
The way he’d been so careful, even though I could tell he wanted to pull me closer. The fucking explosions.
I swallow my bite. “Well, until he scared the absolute shit out of me.”
Everyone goes quiet.
Wren lowers his smoothie. “During the kiss?”
“Yes.” I point at him because at least someone understands why that distinction is important. “We’re having this really sweet moment. I’m kissing him. He’s kissing me. I’m purring. Everything is wonderful. And then the fucking ceiling explodes.”
Beau’s mouth drops open. “What?”
“Fireworks.” I throw my hands up. “Purple and gold magical fireworks. With cannon fire.”
Lark presses both hands over his heart. “Okay, but that’s kind of romantic.”
“I thought we were under attack.” I lean forward and lower my voice, even though no one around us cares what we’re talking about. “My tail puffed up. Completely. I looked like a fucking bottle brush.”
Wren snorts into his smoothie. Beau covers his mouth, but his shoulders shake, and even Gabe loses his battle against a smile.
“I’m glad my trauma amuses everyone.”
“Did he do it because of the Guide?” Gabe asks.
I point at him. “Yes! Apparently sixteen-year-old me writing kiss me slow, fireworks, cannon fire means Lucien thinks he should provide actual artillery.”
That breaks Wren. He laughs hard enough to lean against Lark, who’s not doing much better. Beau has gone pink from trying to hold his laughter in.
I stab another piece of tart with my fork. “For the record, we kissed again afterward. Without attempted murder. It was much better.”
Beau reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I’m happy for you.”
The laughter dies down, and something warm settles into my chest. “Thanks.”
“So you like him?” Gabe asks.
I open my mouth with an immediate sarcastic answer ready, but Gabe’s expression stops me. He isn’t asking whether I think Lucien is hot or whether I enjoy kissing him. He’s asking if this is becoming something.
I look down at my plate and drag my fork through a smear of apple filling. “Yeah. I do. More than I expected to.” Saying it makes my stomach flutter.
Lucien is ridiculous. He’s dramatic and loud and entirely too confident.
He calls me his kitty cat even though I’ve repeatedly informed him that I’m not his anything.
But he listens when it matters. He gives me space when I ask for it.
And when he looks at me, I never get the feeling that he wishes my ears would disappear or my tail would stop moving. I think he likes them more than I do.
“I went to The Rot because I wanted to see him,” I admit. “He was having a terrible night, though. One of his bartenders called out, their blood delivery got screwed up, a register broke. Just a bunch of shit happening at once.”
Wren tilts his head. “So, what did you do?”
“I helped.”
Four faces stare back at me.
“What?”
Lark’s grin slowly spreads. “Of course you did.”
“I bartended for a while, but then I might have helped with some other stuff, too. Their sections weren’t balanced right, one of the servers desperately needed a break, and Lucien was trying to ration blood instead of just pushing drinks made with the types they had plenty of.
” I shrug and take a sip of my coffee. “It wasn’t a big deal. ”
Gabe sets his mug down. “That sounds like you managed his club.”
“Lucien said the same thing.” I roll my eyes. “I did not manage The Rot. I just noticed things.”
“That’s what managing is,” Wren says.
I frown at him.
He shrugs. “You notice what needs to happen, figure out how to make it happen, and get people where they need to be.”
“Lucien said I was smart.” The words come out quieter than I intended. I fiddle with the edge of my napkin and immediately feel ridiculous for bringing it up. “Not just regular smart. He said maybe people should come to me for ideas.”
No one laughs.
Instead, Lark looks confused. “Why wouldn’t they?”
I blink at him. “What?”
“You’re good at figuring shit out.”
“Since when?”
“Since always?” Lark says.
Beau nods beside him. “When I moved to Hex, you knew everything. Who I needed to talk to, where I could stay, what places were safe, how everything worked. You made it less scary.”
“That’s different. I know Hex.”
“And people,” Wren adds. “You’re really good with people.”
Gabe takes another drink before setting his mug down.
“You also basically keep Flutter and Fangs running whenever things get busy if Lark and Pike aren’t around.
You just take charge. You know the regulars, the inventory, the schedule, who can cover what.
You don’t have to be the person in charge to be good at seeing the whole picture. ”
I stare at all of them. What the fuck? “You guys could have mentioned this before.”
Lark laughs and hooks an arm around my shoulders. “We thought you knew.”
“I did not!”
“Well, now you do.” He squeezes me before releasing me, and I try very hard not to get emotional over breakfast. My phone buzzes beside my plate, saving me. I grab it immediately.
Lucien: Good morning, pretty kitty.
My silly heart does a silly little flip.
Another message appears before I can answer.
Lucien: I have begun interviewing managers.
I sit straighter. “Oh!”
Everyone looks at me.
“Lucien’s hiring a manager.”
Gabe gives me a knowing look. “Did you tell him he needed one?”
“Maybe.” I stare at the message again. Last night I’d pointed out that he owned The Rot, managed The Rot, and still jumped behind the bar whenever someone called out. Apparently, he took that more seriously than I realized.
Beau smiles. “He listened to you.”
My thumb stills over my phone. He did. I told Lucien he couldn’t keep doing everything himself, and instead of laughing or telling me he knew his business better than I did, he listened. Warmth spreads through my chest.
Sparkle: Good. Maybe now the owner will stop trying to do every job himself.
The little typing bubble appears almost immediately.
Lucien: The owner is extremely talented.
I snort.
Sparkle: The owner is a control freak.
Lucien: I liked you better when you were kissing me.
Heat races into my cheeks so quickly that I slap my phone facedown on the table.
Lark’s grin is immediate. “What did he say?”
“Nothing.” I reach for my coffee and ignore every single one of them. My phone buzzes again beneath my hand. I tell myself I can wait to check it. I last four seconds.
Lucien: Adventure tonight?
Sparkle: What do I wear?
The typing bubble appears, disappears, then appears again.
Lucien: Something you don’t mind getting dirty.
I narrow my eyes at my phone.
Sparkle: That sounds threatening.
Lucien: Have you ever been camping?
Camping? I’ve been near camping. I’ve seen tents. I’ve walked through the woods. That probably counts for something.
Sparkle: No. Have you?
The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again. I slowly lower my coffee.
Lucien: Define camping.
Oh no.