Chapter 7
When I step off my newly purchased plot of land onto the hot sidewalk, I could swear I see a mirage. They aren’t uncommon in Phoenix, the intense sunshine reflecting off the ground to make it appear as though there’s thirst-quenching water just ahead. But the tempting sight across the street from me promises to sate a different thirst.
But maybe my eyes are tricking me.
I stand still on the side of the street, stare trained across the way where my mirage climbs out of a car she just parked in front of a row of condos. The mirage’s pale skin is lit by the late afternoon sun rather than dim club lighting. The mirage’s familiar peachy bottom is tucked into a set of high-waisted cut-offs rather than lingerie, and her round tits hide under a tight tank top. Instead of loose, silky curls brushing the mirage’s shoulders, she has the white gold strands piled in a messy bun on top of her head. Her feet are in flip-flops, not heels. Her hands grasp cloth grocery bags, not a pole.
And her face is bare. Bare of makeup.
Bare of a mask.
The mirage’s strong arms are loaded with her food haul, so she uses her foot to push the car door closed. The slam of it snaps me out of my stupor and makes two things clear.
She’s real. I’ve found her.
I barely remember to check for traffic before jogging across the street.
“Pearl!” I call out, my hand raised to grab her attention. If I wasn’t sure before, the way she freezes, body tightening in recognition was the last clue I needed.
She’s here. Right here.
We’ve been texting for two weeks now. Mostly we talk about Kraken, but occasionally topics stray to shows we’re watching or food we’re eating. When I send flirtatious messages, she responds back with wry humor or outright shit-talk that does it for me for some reason. I haven’t stopped falling for her.
This is the real her. I’m about to meet?—
Pearl whirls on me, more emotion in her gray eyes than I’ve ever seen before. Before I have a chance to fully register the sharp glare, she’s dropped her bags and shoved me up against the wall of concrete bricks that juts out beside what I assume is her front door.
“Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. That.” Each word comes with its own punctuation, and I cringe in chagrin, realizing my blunder too late.
I’m dense. She wears a mask while stripping. Obviously Pearl doesn’t want anyone outside of the club to know her by that name.
“Sorry. Really. I promise not to do it again.” I raise my arms in surrender but don’t try to maneuver out of her punishing hold. Honestly, I like it. Knowing that the forearm braced across my chest is hers.
She’s touching me. She’s pressed close to me. I breathe in deep and catch traces of fresh eucalyptus.
She’s looking at me, and I map every newly revealed detail. In the mask, I knew she had a heart-shaped face and pillowy lips. But now I know her cheeks are rounded like sweet apples and her nose has a small, endearing bump on the bridge. Without her makeup and the mask shadowing her eyes, I can admire the pale gold of her lashes.
Even as I hold my hands away, I long to cup her face, to trace my fingers down the slope of her neck where a flush builds under her skin.
I want her so bad my body hurts with it.
She lets out a little gasp, her lids fluttering, then mutters a soft yet distinct, “Gods.”
Gods.
Plural.
Could that mean…
“What gods do you pray to?” I rasp, desperate for the answer.
She blinks her eyes open and resumes glaring.
“The same as you, you nosey-ass Squid.”
And those are the very same gods I thank because now I know Pearl is a magical woman of some kind. Or at least aware of our world.
“Are you stalking me?” she hisses.
Fuck. Of course that’s what she thinks.
“No.” I shake my head vigorously, almost hard enough to dislodge my well-worn baseball hat. “Nothing like that. I’m here for that.” I cautiously point to the vacant lot across the street. “It was for sale. I bought it.”
“You bought it?” Pearl shoves away from me, stepping back and leaving my body free even though I don’t want to be. “Please tell me that you’re not some billionaire who bought the plot of land across from my apartment building just to impress me. I don’t need any of that Fifty Shades of Grey, Pretty Woman bullshit.” Her glare burns like molten silver. “I’m not some quiet mouse virgin looking for a BDSM mentor. And I’m not a golden-hearted prostitute in need of saving.”
Noted.
“Well, I not a billionaire.” But I don’t think now is the moment to tell her to change that B to an M. My grandpa was the billionaire. He decided investing in a fruit-themed tech company would be a fun lark. When the eccentric man passed, he left me a portion of his fortune and his favorite harmonica. “And I didn’t buy it to impress you. I swear. I didn’t know you lived here. I don’t even know your real name…”
The woman of my dreams turns her back on me, mouth firmly shut, the silence saying what she doesn’t have to.
You’re not getting my name.
There’s a skittering noise, and I glance to the side to see a fuzzy face in the window. Tiny paws press on the glass, scratching as if wanting out.
“It’s Kraken!” I crow, hoping the reminder of the cat we’ve been texting about will ease the tension of this moment. “She recognizes me. She wants to say hi to her daddy.”
Pearl refuses to look at me as she collects her bags off the ground. “I’m a single cat mom. No need for a deadbeat dad.”
Are we bantering? This kind of sounds like the joking I do with my friends, and I can’t help responding the way I would with them.
“I resent that. I’ll be a supportive, loving cat dad. Like right now. I’ll give her all the snuggles she requires.” Invite me into your home, I want to beg. Anything you want, I’ll get it for you.
“Go away, Sammy.”
“You know my name?” I choke out the question, half dead from the way it sounded in her husky voice.
“You wrote it in your note. And sent it in your text. Obviously I know your name.” She slips her key into the front door.
“But you remembered it. Because I’m memorable, right?” I let my easy, charming grin settle on my mouth.
Pearl pauses, glancing over her shoulder to give me a raised-brow stare. “Yeah, Sammy. You’re memorable. You’re the fucking weirdo that handed me a cat while I was in the middle of dancing at a strip club. That’s hard to forget.”
Nosey. Weirdo.
“I get the feeling that I’m not coming off well in our interactions.” I feel when my smile falters and falls away. “That you don’t have the highest opinion of me.”
Creep. I’m being creepy.
Honestly, I would be perfectly fine with her calling me a creepy, nosey weirdo if she had a touch of affection in her voice as she said the descriptors. Cat lovingly insults Rafael all the time, and it’s a joy to watch.
But Pearl—which is the name I have to keep using because I have no other yet—talks to me with a tone of bafflement and distrust.
“You’re in front of my home,” she points out. “My private home. Where I did not invite you.”
I’m freaking her out.
“I’m freaking you out.”
She shoves open the front door and sets her groceries inside before facing me again.
“I am not Pearl.” With her fists on her hips and a glare on her face, she might as well be towering over me on a stage in heels. “I am not whatever fantasy you imagined me to be in your head. I am a real woman with boundaries. And you’re crossing them.” She jerks her chin toward the construction site across the street. “If that’s why you’re in my neighborhood—like you claimed—then stay on your side of the street.”
In a graceful move, she whirls back to her door and slips inside.
“I’m”—the door slams shut—“sorry.”
A whole string of curses plays through my mind, every one of them aimed at myself. I’m the worst guy in the world. For the longest time, I thought I was charming. Funny. Smooth.
But I’m just a creepy asshole.
With a forlorn wave, I bid goodbye to Kraken, where she still sits in the window watching me. I doubt I’ll get anymore pictures of her. Her mama is probably blocking my number right now. Maybe calling the cops for good measure.
I shove my hands in my pockets and trudge back to the build site. My magic is a churning tempest in my gut, seeking out nearby water to disturb. The closest liquid I sense in this desert suburb is the water in pipes beneath the ground. I mentally try to tamp down my power as I quicken my pace.
If my sadness-fueled magic floods Pearl’s home, I will officially be drowning any shot I have with her.
This morning I was excited about getting to work on a new project. But now I’m dreading working for months so close to, yet so far away from, the woman I want who hates me.