8. Sedrick
Sedrick
“I s the pixie coming again today?” Dillon plopped down on a kitchen chair. Ruthie sat close to him. I’d stopped trying to arrange the kitchen chairs the way they were supposed to be. Ruthie always managed to tug hers over so she could sit closer to her brother.
“That pixie has a name, and yes, he’s coming over today too.” I hoped Phil still planned to come today. I couldn’t believe what he’d accomplished in the ten hours I’d been gone yesterday. “Why do you ask?”
Dillon shrugged, and I couldn’t figure out if he was pouting or not.
I set the plate of sausage, eggs, bacon, and ham in front of him.
A second, slightly smaller helping was on Ruthie’s plate.
I didn’t notice her hair until she bent over and dug in.
Dillon had insisted on helping Ruthie with it.
Since I didn’t have a clue what to do, I’d let him take care of his sister.
Seeing the oddly angled twin pigtails that looked more like rat’s nests than true hair, I second-guessed that decision.
“No reason,” Dillon answered unhelpfully.
“No reason, huh? I don’t buy it, so spill. Did something happen yesterday?” Moon Goddess, I hoped not. As far as I was concerned, Phil was an expert in his craft. There was still work to be done, but the dent he’d made was significant.
I caught Dillon scooting a sausage patty onto Ruthie’s plate and made a mental note to plate her more food next time.
“Dillon?” I questioned when nothing seemed forthcoming.
My nephew grunted out a twisted sigh. “No. Nothing bad. At least, I don’t think so. He asked some questions at first but then mostly left us alone.” I could tell by Dillon’s tone that he thought Phil should have done that sooner. “He’s just . . . weird.”
“ Weird ?” I asked, a forkful of eggs halfway to my mouth. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Dillon huffed and tossed his fork onto his plate.
There was still too much food there for my liking.
“He doesn’t look like a pixie. I mean . .
. he does, but he doesn’t. Mrs. Burrow had a garden pixie that came over and did some work for her from time to time, and Phil doesn’t look a thing like that. ”
Mrs. Burrow was one of Will and Kelsie’s neighbors.
She was an older weretiger and lived alone.
From what little I knew, Mrs. Burrow also loved birds.
Oddly, they didn’t find her feline nature off-putting enough not to flock to her feeders.
I didn’t know if they were just that desperate for seed or if they knew they were too small of a meal and not worth the old weretiger’s time or energy.
“Hmm . . .” I shoved my forkful of eggs into my mouth and chewed longer than necessary. I needed time to think. Dillon wasn’t exactly wrong. I’d thought the same when I’d first met Phil.
“He’s got the wings and pixie dust. He’s also got the hair.” I argued.
“Yeah.” Dillon nodded his agreement. “But his hair was pulled back. I’ve never seen a pixie do that before, and I’ve seen a few more than the one at Mrs. Burrow’s house. He was also dressed funny for a pixie.” Dillon wrinkled up his nose. “Those dark colors didn’t look right on him.”
I found it interesting that Dillon had brought up issues beyond the obvious—Phil’s size. “I thought his hairstyle and clothes were practical,” I answered.
Dillon just shrugged. Ruthie finished the last drop of food on her plate and stared up at her brother with eyes I couldn’t even begin to interpret.
Not for the first time, I wished Ruthie would say something—anything.
Everyone kept telling me she’d speak when she was ready, but no one had any idea when that would be, least of all Ruthie.
“I guess,” Dillon finally admitted. “At least he didn’t ask me to clean anything. He just wanted me to collect our dirty laundry.”
“Just because he didn’t ask doesn’t mean you can’t offer.” I was pretty much shit at being a caregiver. I didn’t have a clue how to raise anything that wasn’t as tall as my chest. So far, I’d stuck with things I could picture my mom saying when Will and I were little more than pups.
Dillon got up and at least took his and Ruthie’s plates to the sink.
Half of Dillon’s food was still on his. “He said he liked doing that kind of thing. Can you believe that?” Dillon crossed his arms over his chest. “What a weirdo. Nobody in their right mind likes to clean or do laundry or cook or . . . all that other stuff he did. He even talks to the house, Uncle Sed.” Dillon waved a hand toward a nearby wall.
“Like talk talks to it.” He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Who does that?”
I got up and followed Dillon and Ruthie to the kitchen.
Pawing at Dillon’s shaggy head of hair, I figured Ruthie wasn’t the only one needing better grooming.
“Everybody’s got different things they like and what they’re good at, and thank the Moon Goddess for that.
Phil probably thinks it’s pretty weird that you can shift into a wolf and like to run through the woods.
” And that was just the tip of the iceberg where our differences started.
Dillon chewed on his bottom lip while he mulled that over.
Ruthie tugged on his shirt until he looked down at her and asked, “What?” I held my breath and hoped Ruthie would say something.
She didn’t. She just stared at her brother with those wide, searching brown eyes that looked so much like her mother’s.
I might not have been a fan of Kelsie’s heritage, but the woman had been beautiful.
And kind. Moral too. No wonder Kelsie had wanted to get out from under her family’s dark shadow.
Ruthie was on track to be the spitting image of her mother. Well, if we could get her hair straightened out, that is.
Whatever passed through Ruthie’s gaze, Dillon seemed to be the only one that understood her silent communication.
With a heartbreaking sigh, he said, “Yeah, okay.” I had no idea what that meant, what was okay .
Whatever it was, Dillon grabbed Ruthie’s wrist and took off down the hall toward Dillon’s room.
The door clicked shut just as a knock sounded at the front of the house.
Inhaling deeply, I scented Phil standing just outside.
It was odd. I’d smelled a litany of pixies over the years, mostly from afar.
The only thing their scent had ever caused was a reflexive sneeze.
Just like damn near everything else about Phil, his scent was different.
It was warm, inviting, and soothing. I chalked it up to the relief I felt since he’d accepted my job offer.
I opened the door and found my pixie standing on the threshold, a clothing mirror of yesterday. Today’s hair was different. It was still pulled back, but instead of a tidy, tight braid, it was piled haphazardly on top of his head in a messy bun of riotous shades of pink.
Phil looked a little more worn around the edges than yesterday but no less eager. He had a satchel draped over one shoulder, the strap angling across his chest and between the wings on his back.
“Good morning, Sedrick. How are Dillon and Ruthie this morning?”
I stood aside so Phil could enter. His wings fluttered ever so slightly, and a mist of fairy dust drifted past. The dust tickled, but surprisingly, I didn’t find it irritating. Amused was the odd feeling that rolled in my gut.
Strange.
“Fine, as far as I can tell,” I answered while shutting the door. “They’ve both been fed this morning, so you shouldn’t have to worry about anything before lunchtime.”
Phil turned his dazzling smile on me. His grass-green eyes lit up from some kind of inner joy I didn’t think I’d ever understand.
I’d always found pixies’ bubbly natures irritating at best. Somehow it didn’t grate when it came from Phil.
It was welcome, almost like that look had been missing and had finally found its rightful home.
“That’s good,” he answered while setting his satchel on the kitchen counter. Thanks to Phil’s efforts yesterday, there was space for it now. “Unless someone got the late-night munchies, there should be enough beef stew left over from last night for lunch.”
“I called in food delivery. It should be here sometime late morning. The dinner you fixed last night was good. If you need other things, feel free to call the grocer, and they can bring out what you need.”
“Oh.” Phil beamed. “That’s good, though I have to admit I’m not that familiar with werewolf dietary needs. Pixies are vegetarians by nature.”
“Yeah, that won’t work with us. We like meat and lots of it.”
Phil swallowed hard but didn’t argue. “I’ll see what I can find in the coming days.”
“Sounds good.” I reached for my keys and phone again. I wasn’t running late today, and I’d gotten the mine caught up yesterday. I hoped today wouldn’t be as long.
“Anything in particular you’d like me to focus on today?” Phil looked around, and the gleam in his eyes changed from joy to calculation or maybe determination.
I glanced at Phil’s hair. The bun looked casually messy, but the more I concentrated, there was nothing casual about it. In fact, it was damn near a work of art. Waving in the general direction of Phil’s hair, I said, “Your hair’s different.”
Phil’s hand flew to the pink explosion on his head. “I’m sorry,” he started to apologize. “I can braid it again if you’d like. I didn’t know if—”
“It’s fine,” I waved him off. “I just thought, if you don’t mind, Ruthie’s hair could use a little . . . work.” I grimaced, remembering the state it had been in this morning. “Dillon asked if he could do it, and at the time, I didn’t see a reason why not, but . . .” I finished with a shrug.
Phil’s smile grew. “I don’t mind at all.
In fact, I brought a few things with me today just in case.
I, uh . . . noticed Ruthie’s hair yesterday.
Maybe I could show Dillon how to do things properly?
That way he doesn’t think I’m taking over a job he believes he’s capable of. I don’t want to step on his toes.”
Dillon and Ruthie were emotionally fragile. So far, it looked like Dillon was dealing with it better than his sister—at least he still spoke.
“That sounds good. If she doesn’t want anything done, don’t push it. At least not yet.”
“I won’t,” Phil promised.
“As far as the rest of it,” I waved a hand around the house, “looks like you know what you’re doing.”
I started to turn, but Phil stopped me when he said, “Once I’m finished on the indoors, I thought about getting started on the garden, but Dillon told me yesterday that there are gnomes in it.”
“Shit.” I rubbed my hand over my face, scratching at the scrubby beard I hadn’t bothered to trim this morning. “How many?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t taken a look myself. Dillon didn’t say.”
“One gnome or thirty doesn’t really matter.
If there’s one now, they’ll be more later.
Those damn things reproduce faster than humans.
” I blew out a frustrated breath. I didn’t have anyone to blame but myself.
Gnomes only took over poorly kept gardens—ones that appeared abandoned.
The mess of weeds in the backyard barely constituted the name garden.
“I’ll call an exterminator. Don’t go out there until they’ve been taken care of, and tell Dillon I don’t want him or Ruthie anywhere near that place until the gnomes are gone.
Those fuckers are wicked mean.” They couldn’t do much to a grown werewolf, but if there were several of them, they could gang up on Dillon or Ruthie, and I didn’t want to contemplate the damage that could do.
Phil was sturdier than the kids, but I didn’t like the thought of him getting injured either. I didn’t like that thought at all.
“I’m sorry,” Phil fretted. “I should have asked my friend about it last night. Gnome extermination can be expensive. Maybe Peaches has another way. He’s a garden pixie. They might listen to—”
“I’m not worried about the cost.” I waved Phil’s concern away.
Besides, there was no reason to get Phil’s friend involved.
Something about hearing Peaches’s name agitated my wolf.
“I’ll have to see when they can come out.
It’s early spring, so they’re probably busy.
We’re coming up on planting time, and everyone and their brother will be getting their gardens situated, and if they’ve picked up a few gnome invaders over the winter, they’ll need to be dealt with first.”
Phil nodded his understanding.
“I’ll get a settled timeline so you know when to expect them. I don’t want anyone on this property that’s not supposed to be here.” I gave Phil a meaningful look that I hoped he understood. The bob of his Adam’s apple made me think he got it.
“I’m off to work. Same goes as yesterday. The emergency numbers are on the fridge. Call if you need anything or if anything concerning happens. Hopefully, I won’t be gone as late today as yesterday, and you can head out of here sooner.”
“We’ll be fine,” Phil assured. “I’ll see what I can do with Ruthie’s hair.”
“Dillon could use a trim too. We like our hair shaggy, but his is more unruly and tangled than most.”
Phil’s smile was indulgent with a fond edge. “I’ll tackle Ruthie’s first and go from there.”
I didn’t know if all pixies were good with kids or just home-and-hearth ones. Hell, maybe it was just Phil. He’d known the kids less than two days, and I already felt he knew how to handle them. I’d had over four weeks of close contact and still felt like a vamp stranded without a shade structure.
“Off to work with you.” Phil shooed me out of my own home, closing the door behind me.
I was still stupidly staring at the heavy wooden structure when I heard the lock snick fall into place.
I remained there, staring at the peeling paint, wondering how in the hell I’d allowed a pixie to toss me out of my own home.
And stranger still, why that knowledge left a warm, wiggling mass in the pit of my belly.