Chapter Nineteen #2
“To answer your question, yes. Number Five listens to what every guest needs to feel safe,” he said, tipping the peel and sliding the loaves into a bread basket. “Many of our guests need specific accommodations.”
Josie leaned over and inhaled the gorgeous scent of the bread. Next to the basket lay a knife and a small dish with a square of creamy yellow butter.
No need to worry about the state of her panties. There was no way her libido would be able to fight any postmeal drowsiness, not with stew and bread on the menu.
A thin wicked-looking blade arced through the air in front of her and Josie jumped as Pax speared the wine cork right through the foil, twisted his wrist, then yanked the cork right out.
For some reason, the action turned her on.
And…just like that, Josie’s libido was back in the game.
Pax poured her wine first, then poured a glass for himself.
“I keep forgetting this is a hotel, not an apartment building. And you manage the hotel?” she asked as he took her bowl to the fire and ladled in a helping of stew.
“I do,” he said, then served himself a bowl.
“What exactly does that entail?” she asked.
Josie waited for him to explain but he said nothing more until he sat.
Pax must have showered—or dumped rainwater from a wooden bucket over his head like an old-timey knight—right before she arrived, because his hair was damp, and the ends curled slightly.
Josie found it easier to read Pax’s face and gestures when they were alone. Pushing his spoon to align with his bowl and placing his napkin on his lap, he might appear to have not heard her question. His eyes were unfocused, and his jaw moved slightly as though he were talking to himself.
He wasn’t ignoring her. He was considering his answer.
Despite Josie’s talent of second-guessing herself, her newfound ability to read Pax felt genuine.
“My job is to be an interpreter between the guests and Number Five,” he said finally, lifting his gaze from his food to her face. “She has her own language, as you might have observed.”
Josie took a bite of the meat and a sip of her wine. She let the delicious flavors of rosemary and baking spices meld while she considered Pax’s words.
“What about Maddy?” she asked. “Is she an assistant interpreter?”
Pax frowned but Josie could tell it was because he was considering her question and not because he was annoyed.
“Maddy…has a separate set of tasks than I,” he said slowly.
By the way he paused between words, Josie knew he was holding something back.
“The two of you seem to be together a lot,” she said breezily. Hopefully breezily. “Is that because of your job, or are you good friends?”
“Friends?” he echoed with genuine surprise, then shrugged. “I suppose.”
Josie’s gaze fell to Pax’s spoon. Heavy and unwieldy in her palm, it sat tiny and delicate in his hand. The softness with which he spoke and the fluidity of his movement made her forget how much larger he was and the strength he must possess with his muscular frame.
Friends.
What if, as the night went by, he wanted more and she didn’t? Josie would have to trust Pax wouldn’t cross any lines she drew. The fire dimmed and thick shadows wreathed the room. Josie glanced behind her and the only door to the kitchen was farther away than she remembered.
Pax set down his spoon and lifted his hands in the air as if she’d trained a gun on him. A log on the grate popped like a cap and Josie straightened at the noise.
“Even if I were not the hotel manager,” he said, his voice a velvet rumble from deep in his chest. “Even if I were not bound by the Wayside Oath. Even if I had not spent my life as a warrior for the Light, I would always respect your wishes, Josephine.”
“Can…” Josie took a quick sip of wine. “Can Number Five read my mind? Is she telling you what’s in my head?”
The idea of it felt like a violation.
“No. Number Five is sensitive. If you become frightened, she becomes anxious.” He tucked the streak of white hair behind his ear and looked at the table, hiding his expression as he spoke.
“You have no reason to feel safe. Nothing you’ve seen or heard since last week comes close to what you know as reality.
We are strangers in many ways and you’ve no proof we mean you no harm. ”
This is true and would explain the nameless foreboding she’d felt all week.
Her hunger deserted her.
“It’s almost like a conversion,” she blurted. “If I accept this”—Josie made a twirling gesture with her finger to encompass him, the kitchen, the whole building even—“the world will never be the same again. I won’t ever be the same person.”
With all her heart, Josie wanted to believe Pax was the kind of man who kept his promises, and his instinct to believe the best about people, his patience, and his kindness were genuine.
But good and bad were too simple—he’d said it himself. What if one tenant’s heroics meant something terrible would happen to her and Amos?
“If I believe in you and in Number Five, that means having faith in both fairy tales and nightmares.” Josie’s thoughts spun out into a web, and she spoke slowly as she tried to keep from losing track.
“If fairy tales and nightmares are real, where do I go to hide? The stories we tell about people in your worlds are supposed to stay stories.”
“If magic is real, it becomes mundane,” Pax said. “Is that your worry?”
“ ‘Mundane’ isn’t the word I’m looking for,” Josie said.
Josie stood, her napkin falling from her lap, as her vague worries coalesced into words.
“If monsters are real and my worst nightmares live down the hall from me, nowhere is safe.”
What if those scary men who lived on the fringes of her dreams, the ghosts of near misses and stupid choices, what if they walked the corridors of Number Five?
“That’s not how it works,” Pax objected. He came around the table and took her hands in his warm palms and held tight. His freshly showered skin smelled like bergamot, and Josie could not look into his eyes in case they were a trap.
“Look, Pax. Even if the boogeyman in 5M is a hero on his world…”
“The djinn twins live in 5M,” he corrected her.
“…the boogeyman is a terrifying monster on my world.”
Pax nodded and she kept going.
“I don’t want to live next door to a monster,” she said.
The fire went out.
“Oh shit, what did I do?” Josie looked around the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Number Five.”
The coals flared, casting a carpet of orange light barely reaching her knees.
Pax smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand and Josie watched the movement, mesmerized. “You know, on some worlds, I am a monster.”
She jerked her head up and examined his face.
He meant it.
“One of my names is The Butcher.”
“Why?”
Why would Pax tell her this now? Was he having second thoughts about whatever this was between the two of them and wanted to scare her away?
Her breath came in short, shallow pants as Pax slowly lifted his hands and set them on either side of her face, the same way he’d touched her the last time they kissed.
“Soldiers are killers,” he said, tilting her head slightly. “I was a good soldier.”
Josie licked her bottom lip, and his eyes fastened on her mouth. “You aren’t at war anymore. You’re supposed to keep anyone from getting hurt. The boogeyman or any of the other…tenants…it’s only their oath that keeps them from hurting someone, and that only works when they’re inside Number Five.”
Although the coals still glowed, Josie shivered and moved closer to Pax, relishing his heat.
“What happens when they walk out the front door?” she asked. “How can you keep us, everyone, safe? What about the Zombino family? All vegans cheat at some point, no matter how good they claim vegan ice cream has gotten.”
“I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
What if he did? What if something happened to Amos?
“The stakes are high,” she said.
As if it hurt to remove his touch, Pax let go of Josie’s face and took a step backward.
“You are thinking of Amos,” he said.
“Always.”
“Never yourself?” he asked.
“It isn’t a zero-sum equation.”
When you loved someone with your whole self, their well-being was your well-being. At least, that’s the way Josie believed parenting should work.
“I can only offer my word Number Five is a safe haven for you and for Amos, and I truly believe it is the will of the universe that you stay.”
Josie shook her head as though she could dislodge the webs made of what-ifs and worst cases.
“Do you mean in the apartment or…”
Tentatively, Pax reached out his hand. “Let’s take it slow. Perhaps we will begin with you remaining to finish your meal with me?”
Over the piny scent of rosemary came the faintest odor of roses. If Josie had any doubt about Number Five’s intentions, the return of that smell laid those doubts to rest.
She could walk away right now and there would be no repercussions. Pax, for all his professed flaws, was obviously a man who took trust seriously. If he said he would respect Josie’s wishes, he meant it.
In the end, what made her comfortable enough to stay was the certainty that she was free to leave.
· · ·
Pax would have said nothing if Josie decided to leave. Still, his relief jellied his knees, and he was grateful to sit before she could notice.
“Do you have a favorite world of all the ones Number Five has visited?” Josie asked.
Pax would have been content to simply stare at Josie for the rest of the meal.
He’d mistaken her hair for brown when he first saw her.
The gentle light of his kitchen fire revealed individual strands of gold and red in between the brown, allowing him glimpses of the treasures he would have otherwise overlooked.
When Josie cleared her throat, Pax blushed.
Look at him staring at her like a stupid boy staring at a fine lady passing by—of course she would be worried.
“A while ago we had a siren as a guest,” he said, hoping his story would distract Josie from his embarrassing behavior.
“What is a siren?” she asked.