Another Man’s Treasure (Pine Gulch Ever After #3)

1. Oz

Oz

“Hearth Headquarters has a series of satellites attached to each haven’s protective ward, and that’s how they spy on the monster world. I wrote a whole paper about it and hid a copy, of course.”

I gulp at the handsome chestnut-coated minotaur across the table from me at BrewHaHa Beans, resisting the urge to ask what, exactly, he’s talking about. Satellites spying over every hidden monster haven? It makes zero sense.

Is he for real?

I’ve been on a few weird first dates, but this one takes the cake, as my human friends say.

The huge male leans forward onto beefy, muscular forearms and smirks at me.

“Unbeknownst to Monster headquarters, I made two copies of the paper. One’s filed down at Pine Gulch’s Auction House with the records department.” He jerks his head toward Main Street, visible behind him through BrewHaHa’s front windows.

I’m nearly desperate to escape this awful first date and get out onto that very normal-looking street.

This farce of an arrangement is made worse by my friend Bluebell being seated at the table next to mine, working on her to-do list, if I had to guess.

Or waiting for her hot gargoyle mate. Either way, I’m certain she’s listening to every word.

It’s probably good… She, Lemon, and I can hash this out later over extremely strong drinks.

I sigh. Both of my lady besties are newly mated, and I want that. Well, I thought I wanted that. But sitting in front of this weirdo just makes me glad I pressed for a coffee date and nothing later in the day that might lead to…expectations.

He sits back and straightens the collar on his Hawaiian-style shirt.

“The other copy’s somewhere secret, somewhere the headquarters hunter team will never find it.

” He shudders and glances around the coffee shop.

“Although I suppose if they found me, it would be game over. They’d lock me in Belcastle Prison and torture me because of what I know.

That secret can’t be allowed to get out, of course. ”

This satellite secret can’t get out? Then why the hells is he telling me about it within earshot of two dozen other monsters?

I resist the urge, again, to simply rise from the table and disappear.

I’ve got wings. He doesn't. I can hit the sky and pray not to run into him ever again. He’s not a local—he just came to town for this blind date set up by a mutual friend back home in the New York City-based monster haven of Rainbow.

The second I get a chance, I’m comm’ing Keleigh to ask precisely what about this crazy male led my friend to believe we’d get along.

The minotaur looks around again, red eyes narrowing. “I’ve gotta piss. Be right back.”

I scrunch my nose at his crass statement, pushing my slutty little glasses up a bit. Their sexiness is totally wasted on him.

He rises without waiting for a response from me.

By my side, my pit hell, Ginger, growls softly at him when he passes, red rivers of magic running beneath her chestnut fur.

Her dislike alone would be enough for me to deny the male a second date.

She’s bonded to me, becoming my shadow. When I fly somewhere, I literally have to carry her, or she yips and squeals like she’s dying.

She’s mine until we do both die. Never would have thought a pit hell would bond to a gargoyle, but I suppose stranger things have happened.

Now I’ve got a lifelong guardian, and honestly? It’s kinda nice. It’s comforting.

The moment the male’s out of earshot, Bluebell leans over to me, her blue eyes wide in concern. She glances in the direction he disappeared, then back to me.

“Dude, get the hells out of here. He is super nuts and sooooo weird. It’s a no. Lemon and I won’t let you date that guy. Just…I’ll do a distraction, but get up, take Ginger, and go.”

“On it,” I gasp, rising from the table and grabbing my bag.

No sooner have I stood than the minotaur returns, sliding a hand up my back to rest between my shoulder blades.

I grimace at the unwanted touch.

“Going so soon?” He smiles at me and jerks his head toward the door.

How the hells is he back so fast? There’s no way he even went into the bathroom.

“I’ve got work,” I say lamely.

“I’ll walk you there,” he offers.

Bluebell slaps a hand over her face.

“Not necessary, Norman,” I say to the big minotaur, summoning my right to just say no.

“The vibes aren’t there, and I don’t really want to risk getting caught up in your secrets.

It’s like a spider web of danger, and I’m not sure I’m up for being on the run.

It doesn’t go with my hair and skin routine, if I’m honest.”

His mouth drops open, the gold ring through his snout jiggling. “Your hair and skin routine? Hearth Headquarters is covering up—”

“Like I said,” I interrupt, skirting past him toward BrewHaHa’s front door, “I’m just not interested in being involved in that.”

Norman snorts and stomps a foot on the floor, crossing his giant arms over his chest as he shoots me a hoity-toity, irritated look. “Well, I came all the way here to see you, but I guess I’ll be going.”

“‘Mkay, bye then,” I say brightly, grabbing the door handle. Up above us, the building ripples her ceiling tiles outward from the pretty rustic chandelier hanging from her arched ceiling. She’s laughing at this stupid situation. Silly girl.

Norman grabs his bag and throws it over his head, careful to avoid snagging it on his giant long horns.

Stalking past me without saying a word, he dips through the door and disappears up the street.

Whirling around, I drop daintily into the chair opposite Bluebell, throwing myself far enough forward to rest my chin on my forearms.

She sips her latte quietly, blue bangs curling away from her forehead to frame her heart-shaped face. “That was the worst date I’ve ever been unfortunate enough to witness,” she finally says.

Laughing wryly, I look at the beautiful blue-haired witch.

“Saint Ashbourne jinxed me,” I say with a bitter laugh.

“He called me trash, said I’d never hold down a real relationship, and I swear I’ve never been on a good date since we broke up.

I didn’t have trouble snagging normal hotties before him. ”

Eight months is quite the dry spell for me.

Bluebell reaches across the wooden tabletop over hand-painted sunflowers, resting her hand on mine.

“Saint Ashbourne is a royal asshole, Oz, and I refuse to let you think he’s anything other than that.

But the great news is you live here, and he wouldn’t be caught dead in a cowboy town.

His words, not mine. So you never have to hear him in your head again.

I love you, and you’ll find the right guy one day. ”

I reach for the notebook in my back pocket and withdraw it, thrumming my three fingers over the worn cover.

“You’re right, bestie. Lemon’s gonna comm me any moment to ask how that date went, so I’m going to grab my favorite table and lose myself in some work for a few minutes.

Maybe ask Dain to throw Goldschlager in a hot chocolate for me.

Damn, I had high hopes for that one, but wow, he was weird. ”

She rubs my hand again, smiling over the edge of her ceramic coffee cup.

I head to the very back of the building where a tiny nook is barely visible from the front. It’s my nook. It doesn’t have my name on it, but I’m there every morning from eight to ten, working on the plans for the spa I want to open on Main Street. Nobody takes that table because it’s mine.

Except when I get to the back, a giant male with pale green skin and shocking blond hair sits there, hen-pecking away on a keyboard like an old woman, using just his forefingers.

At my table. That everyone in Pine Gulch knows is my table.

Pale brows are scrunched above his eyes. A sharp, angular jawline ends in a dimpled chin that I’d find hot if he wasn’t loitering at My Table, trademark pending.

“Motherfucker,” I mutter, crossing my arms. Today is the worst, and it’s not like the table actually belongs to me and I can kick him out. Other monsters just know better than to sit at it. It’s an unspoken rule.

“Excuse me?”

I look back at the male. “Huh?”

He shifts backward, lifting his chin defiantly as he stares me down. Those scrunched brows and the harsh stare are now firmly directed at me. “You just said motherfucker, but I don’t know you. So I’m makin’ sure you were actually directin’ that insult at me before I do something about it.”

I scoff and shuffle my wings at my back. Lifting my chin, I shake my head. “I wasn’t talking to you.” Last thing I need is an altercation with a male who’s easily got a hundred pounds on me.

He looks around slowly. Nobody’s seated remotely close to us. Cocking his head to the side, he peruses me from head to toe. “You sure about that?”

I sigh and run both hands through my dark purple waves, eyeing him over the tops of my glasses. “It’s just that you’re at my table. Everyone knows it’s my table. Nobody bothers to sit there because it’s—”

“Yours. So you’ve said,” he barks, the deep timbre of his voice skating across my skin like rough, possessive hands.

He thrums his fingers on the painted tabletop.

“Except it ain’t yours, and it don’t have your name on it, pretty boy.

” He leans over the wood to rest his huge green forearms on the surface.

“Next time you think about hurlin’ an insult my way, stop a moment and consider your wellbeing instead. ”

That said, he looks back down at his computer and completely ignores me.

A mixture of emotions somewhere between fury and embarrassment rocket through me, and I debate slapping that frown off his face with the spade-shaped tip of my tail. It hurts like a bitch to get slapped with something the size of a dessert plate and just as hard.

I’m not gonna bother to give that jerk a response.

Tomorrow, I’ll just make sure to get here in time to get my table when BrewHaHa opens.

That way, this isn’t a problem again. Spinning on my heel, I stalk away from him and head back to Bluebell’s spot.

That male’s eyes follow me the whole way.

I can feel them on my back like hot coals at the base of my wings.

Ginger slinks behind me, tucking herself under Bluebell’s table when I slump back into the chair opposite my friend. The dog’s chin rests on my knee as Bluebell glances up.

“Wha……what’s up, dude?”

I wave toward the back of the café. “There’s a guy at my table.”

Bluebell spins around just as I reach for her ponytail to make sure she doesn’t immediately look in his direction. Thankfully, he’s still focused on his computer and most definitely not looking our way.

She turns to me and fans herself like she thinks he’s hot. “Damn, Oz. You shoulda just sat yourself down anyhow. He is hot like, so hot in that way only a troll really manages, ya know?”

I snort and roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. He was rude and off-putting, and I immediately hate him, which means we immediately hate him.”

She lifts both hands. “Fine. We can hate him. I hate him. What a fucking asshole.”

For a few minutes, neither of us say anything. I work on the business plan in my notebook, and she does whatever she does with her to-do list that takes so long.

It’s hard to get lost in the dreaming like I typically do at my table, but I eventually manage it. Until a shadow darkens the paper. When I look up, the troll male stands there with a smirk.

Well, I think he’s a troll. He’s got the trademark green skin and bulky frame. Missing the lower jaw tusks, though.

Unfortunately for my poor libido, he’s even hotter towering over us with that sharp jawline and those piercing green eyes. Ten out of ten for eye contact. Zero out of ten for everything else.

“Can I help you?” I manage, slapping my notebook shut. He doesn’t deserve to see my dreams. Table stealer. Maybe on another day, I wouldn’t be so out of sorts about the table, but I’m feeling dramatic this morning.

Who am I kidding? That’s any morning when I haven’t been laid.

He jerks a big green thumb at the table behind him. “Table’s free, if you still care about it.”

“Thanks,” I mutter as Ginger pokes her head out from under the table to glance up at him.

His eyes soften as he looks down at her. “Hey, sweetheart, aren’t you purdy? Will your daddy tell me your name?”

“No, he won’t,” I say snidely. “And she’s absolutely vicious, so steer clear. Maybe next time I’ll sic her on you if you try to take my table again.”

He says nothing but drops to a knee and holds out the back of his hand. Ginger leans forward and sniffs it, then gives him a tentative lick. A deep chuckle rumbles from his throat as he smiles at her, letting her snorkel all over those big beefy fingers.

“Don’t bogart my table and my pit hell in the same day, please,” I mutter.

The male stands and looks at me from beneath pale lashes that frame those shocking eyes. He says nothing else, just looks as the moment stretches long, then longer, then long enough that a desperate need to fill the silence gets the better of me.

Bluebell’s silent for the first time in her whole life, staring at me as I struggle to figure out what to say.

“Erm, well…”

He leans forward, winks, then thumps the tip of my nose. “See ya around.”

Snarling, I snap my tail at him as he goes, but he sidesteps it easily and doesn’t bother to look at me as he heads out the door. He hooks a right outside and disappears from view as I fume.

My friend Lemon walks through the door right after him, her face breaking into a big smile when she sees Bluebell and me.

The blonde vampire takes a seat on the other side of our table and clasps my hand, her smile falling even as her crimson eyes narrow to inspect me.

“Honey bear, what’s going on? You look positively feral, Oz. ”

Bluebell chuckles. “Oz is in deep doodoo, Lem, the deepest of doodoo.”

Sighing, I lean onto my forearms as I debate dishing to my girls. I moved to Pine Gulch to escape drama, and the gods know I sure don’t need more of it…

“There is nothing to discuss.” I lift my coffee cup to my mouth.

Even so, I flick my gaze toward where the big male disappeared. What a shame, because he was really, really hot.