Chapter Seven Did I Just Say That?
Operation Case Closed is not off to the best start.
Ezra was less than thrilled to learn I’d be his house guest until we could get to the bottom of what he desires. As soon as he got his son ready to sleep, he showed me to the guest room and then bolted, sealing them in his room.
Not exactly a “Let’s collaborate and figure out what the fuck it is that I want” attitude.
But instead of brainstorming ways to get him to open up to me, I’m lying in bed thinking of the man himself.
Ezra is not what I was expecting. Sun-kissed bronze, shaved head, and a neatly trimmed reddish-brown goatee. Topaz eyes framed by long lashes. Full, heart-shaped lips that I’d bet my wings are pillowy.
He’s tall. Broad shoulders and a muscled chest. Tattoos of words and symbols in a language I don’t recognize color his skin in shades of reds, blacks, and greys. Thick, powerful legs. He’s built like a linebacker. One who remembered to eat his vegetables, but who also had a love of beer.
He’s...attractive. For a human.
And his scent. Sweet Satan, his scent. Honey and cedar and something smoky. It was everywhere. The pillow case. The sheets. Being pumped through the air vents.
I could inhale it forever and not be mad about it.
A bolt of heat pulsed through me, my legs rubbing together before my brain could catch up with the motion.
Absolutely not, you hussy.
Ezra is a case. Period, the end.
Sleep does not come easy, but eventually I nod off. When I wake, I can hear Ezra across the hall.
“Morning, Little Guy. Do you think Daddy imagined yesterday, or was it all real?”
The baby makes that same babbling noise he made when I held him yesterday.
I find myself smiling as he continues to babble while Ezra speaks to him in a sing-song, baby voice.
I find the entire exchange adorable. After a few minutes, I hear the door open and the sound of footsteps descending the staircase.
I lay in bed a few minutes longer, attempting to work out some kind of plan of attack.
But being sleep deprived with a touch of horniness requires fuel I won’t find in this bedroom.
Throwing the covers off, I climb out of bed, make sure my hair looks cute, and head downstairs. When the living room comes into view, I have to force myself not to drool.
Belzabub be praised!
Ezra is sitting on the couch, angling his body toward the stairs, legs spread wide.
He’s got on a pair of grey sweatpants that cling to those thick thighs like a glove.
But what has my pulse racing is his bare chest that Gideon is happily curled against. With one hand, he holds his son, with the other a steaming cup of coffee.
When he catches sight of me, his eyes widen a fraction.
I shoot him a sassy smile as I make my way down the remaining steps and walk to the opposite end of the couch.
“Good morning. Yes, I am in fact real. No, you are still not having a psychiatric break. Yes, I am still here because I still don't know what you want. So, unless you’ve had an epiphany and have decided to tell me what it is you want, point me in the direction of the coffee.”
He cocks a brow before pointing me toward the kitchen. It takes a little searching, but I locate a mug and make my coffee. I take the first sip and savor the flavor. Hell may have all the same amenities as the mortal plane, but there is no question that it tastes infinitely better here.
When I head back into the living room, Ezra has Gideon sitting up in his lap.
More of his barrel chest is exposed, and I have to force my gaze away.
The little one kicks his legs and makes more of those baby noises that I’m starting to enjoy more than I should.
I wiggle my fingers at him, polished claws shimmering in the early morning light.
Gideon makes a delighted high-pitched squeal.
I lean back on the couch opposite Ezra and find him studying me.
“What?” I ask before sipping my coffee.
He looks down at Gideon, then back to me before shrugging. “He likes you.”
I find myself smiling behind my mug.
“He has good taste. I’m delightful.”
“Delightfully annoying,” Ezra scoffs.
I stick my tongue out at him as Gideon's happy noises take a decidedly unhappy tone.
Ezra bounces him in his lap to try to soothe him.
“Is he hungry?”
“He’s getting there,” Ezra says, now rocking Gideon side to side. “I’ll make his bottle after I finish my coffee.”
“I’ll do it,” I say a little too enthusiastically.
He looks at me skeptically, but I’m already off the couch and heading into the kitchen. My Dad suggested that humans talk when they relax. What better way to relax than to have someone help with his usual baby duties? Besides, I saw Ezra make the bottle yesterday. How hard can it be?
Hard. So hard.
Once I located the bottle and formula I saw Ezra use last night, I set to warming the water like Ezra did. Except I realized too late that the water was boiling, so when I added the formula, it splashed back and erupted like a volcano.
My second attempt, I added ice to the water to cool it down. But when I added the powder, it clumped to the ice.
The third bottle was perfect. The temperature was warm, and the powder dissolved. And then I dropped it, and the lid exploded off, and the contents went everywhere. As I’m wiping up the mess, a rumbly laugh draws my attention.
“Not hard, huh?” says Ezra from where he leans against the kitchen door frame with Gideon.
Hells bells, if I wasn’t positive he couldn’t wait to get rid of me, I’d swear that there was a touch of mirth in his voice.
But that’s ridiculous.
He pushes off the frame and walks to the counter, surveying the chaos before grabbing the powder container and frowning.
“Formula is running low. I’ll have to run to the store and pick some more up,” he says, starting a fresh bottle.
“I’ll go with you.”
He pauses and hits me with a dubious stare. “Absolutely not. If anyone saw you, there’d be a crazy scene of people trying to take pictures of the cool cosplayer. Or secret squirrel would come in their black SUV and whisk you away to be experimented on.”
I shoot him a smile and snap my fingers.
The hellfire glamour swirls around me; my wings disappear, my eyes change to blue-grey with normal pupils, my hair becomes a cascade of tight braids, and my skin loses its iridescence and turns to obsidian.
My pjs morph into a pair of cutoff shorts and a distressed t-shirt.
Ezra’s mouth hangs open.
“You like?” I say, spinning in a circle.
“Impressive. Like Sauruman leaving Theoden in The Two Towers,” he says evenly, turning his focus back to Gideon.
My smile falters as disappointment blooms in my chest.
As he walks past me to the living room, he pauses and looks over his shoulder, “For the record...I like your natural appearance better.”
He doesn’t see the smile that could break my face as I follow him to the living room.
“As soon as Gideon is done eating, I’ll get him and me ready, and we can head to the store.”
Shopping in the human realm is wild.
First, Ezra strapped Gideon into what can only be described as some sort of torture device.
Straps and harnesses and buckles. No way he was comfortable in that horrible little carrier.
Then he leads me out the door and into what he assures me is human transportation in the form of an SUV.
When I climbed in, I realized that humans really do go in for kink, because I’m also secured in with more straps and buckles.
I offered to just transport us there using my hell powers, but Ezra vehemently declined.
As we travel to the store, I’m captivated by the vibrancy of the colors. Hell’s landscape has colors, but they’re muted. Nothing compared to the beauty of lush greens and shining yellows here.
And the store? The store!
I follow Ezra down the many aisles, captivated.
“There are so many.” I breathe in awe. “What are they?” I ask, picking up a box with three cartoonish elves on the front.
“Cereal,” he says quizzically. “Do you not have cereal in...hell?” he whispers.
“Oh, we do. One type. And why is no one fighting?” I say, searching for a brawl.
Ezra looks at me, perplexed. “Why would there be fights? That stopped being a thing after the laughing toy incidents of ‘96.”
I shiver at the mention of circle six’s preferred torture device. “Everything is a fight...there. If you want something, you have to fight for it.”
“You can’t just buy it?”
I shake my head wildly. “Fight first, pay later.”
“That’s,” he looks around as if searching for the word, “insane.”
He continues down the aisle, picks up a different box, and sets it in the cart. When he looks at me, still clutching the elf cereal, he slowly takes it from me and sets it in the cart.
My stomach flutters for reasons I can’t explain.
When we get to the potato chip aisle, I lose my mind. There are so many flavors, shapes, and varieties. Ezra just laughs, explains the different “mash-up” flavors, and ends up adding four different bags to the cart for me to try.
As we walk through the store, Ezra patiently answers all my questions. He laughs and talks easily. Now would be the opportune time to sneak in a few questions about what he wants, but I’m having too much fun exploring and talking to him.
By the time we reach the checkout, something he patiently explained to me while fighting a smile, the cart is full, and I’m wearing what Erza explained is a pool floaty that resembles a flamingo around my waist.
Gideon is cooing away in his seat as I make silly faces at him. Ezra stands beside me, watching the exchange silently. I can’t decipher the expression on his face as Gideon babbles away happily.
“Ezra?” A distinctly feminine voice calls.
My head snaps to the direction of the voice as something possessive twists in my stomach.
He follows my gaze and raises a hand in greeting. “Hey, Bea.”
This Bea woman eyes me suspiciously as she approaches. When she reaches us, she sticks her hand into the cart and tickles Gideon. “Hi, baby,” she says sweetly.
I don’t like it.
Then she hugs Ezra, and I like it even less.
Her presence is a disruption of the time I’ve been enjoying with Ezra and Gideon. It annoys me.
Which is preposterous.
“Who’s your friend, Ezra?”
Ezra has turned a shade of crimson I’ve only seen in hell and, apparently, lost his ability to speak.
She turns to me, smiling. “Hi, I’m Bea,” she says cheerily, extending her hand.
I slip mine into hers, gripping firmly. “Synclair, nice to meet you. I’m Ezra’s girlfriend.”
Oh fuckles. Did I really just say that? That was unexpected.
Ezra chokes on air. Silly human. Bea’s eyes have popped out of her head.
“Girlfriend?” she asks, looking between us as she drops my hand. “Ezra, why didn’t you tell us?”
“Oh, that’s my fault,” I interject. “We’ve been chatting in a D&D forum. Things have been getting more serious, and we decided to meet.”
Erza is giving me that pained look I’ve seen in the pit when interrogations get uncomfortable.
Bea’s face lights up. “That’s wonderful! We’ve been trying to encourage him to get back out there. Now I know why you’ve been so resistant.”
Ezra gives a tight smile and runs his hand over his bald head.
“Well, I hope you’ll be here for D&D tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Ezra croaks.
Bea gives him a bewildered look. “Yeah, remember, we moved it to Tuesday ‘cause Ben is going out of town on Friday.”
“Right, right,” he says.
Bea turns back to me and sets a hand on my forearm. “It was great to meet you.”
“You too,” I say as she departs.
The checkout process is as fascinating as everything else, but based on the tension in Ezra's shoulders, I decide not to ask any questions.
I gnaw on my bottom lip, trying to understand Ezra's shift.
Was he embarrassed? Or angry that I lied? Or something worse.
Clearly, I wasn’t thinking when I said I was Ezra’s girlfriend, but for a split second after the words left my mouth, I liked the sound of it.