Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
CHARLI
Teague and I leave Macklin with Andros at the hospital. Out in the parking lot, he opens the door with a flourish, then helps me into the vehicle. Once in the driver’s side, he turns to me. “This is your day. Is there anything special you’d like to do?”
“Show me your Greystone,” I tell him, interested to see where he takes me.
He studies me. “Isn’t there something special you want to do? A romantic picnic in the park? A movie?” He waggles his eyebrows. “I’ve never made out in a movie theater.”
When I shake my head, he sighs. “I wish we had something creative for you.” His eyes narrow.
“You know, you could create the first supernatural museum. Curate the contents. Bring in artists from everywhere. There are some incredibly talented individuals out there, and because they’ve lived a long life, their work has insane depth and maturity. ”
Why does that sound like so much fun? I laugh. “I’m not sure you know how to take a day off. Although it does sound intriguing.” A sudden thought occurs to me. “Who did that drawing of the church in your office? It’s amazing.”
A sad smile crosses his face. “His name was Julian, a gargoyle I met when his unit visited Spain. He served the Roman Empire. Unlike most of us, he always dreamed of something more than the service the rest of us embraced.” His eyes are distant as he thinks of his friend.
“You kind of remind me of him. He never went anywhere without a piece of charcoal or some other drawing tool, stopping whenever inspiration hit him.”
I prop my hand on my chin. “Sounds like my mother. Nothing stood in the way of her capturing a moment.” I shrug. “I really only started carrying my sketchbook when the visions hit, but in college, I realized my talent could also be a career.”
“While I love having you as my PA, I want you to find something that feeds that part of you.”
“What happened to Julian?” I ask, wondering why he looked so sad.
“He died. Killed by a vampire a long time ago,” Teague reveals. “He sent me that drawing about a week before, and I’ve carried it with me ever since.”
“I’ll have to show you my drawings sometime,” I murmur, wanting to share that piece of me with him. “So, where are you taking me?”
“Hmm, some of my favorite places can only be seen from the sky, but I’m afraid you’ll freeze, so I’ll show you one of my favorite spots on the ground,” he says, putting the car in gear. “But let me make a stop first.”
For the first time, Teague appears to be lighthearted, and I can’t help but match my grin to his. “How long has it been since you took a day off?”
His brows draw together as he thinks about it, then he looks embarrassed.
“Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I took a weekday off.
The weekends always seem to last so long; I’m eager to get to work the next week.
” He pauses. “Or I was. Somewhere along the way, I started to wonder whether that would be the only thing I’d have for the rest of my life.
Until you came along.” He picks up my hand and presses a kiss to it.
“I don’t know how you did it for so long,” I say softly. “For two years, I did nothing but move around and work, and it was starting to wear on me. Not having a friend or family to call my own. It’s lonely.”
“Never again,” he promises me, pulling the car into the small parking lot connected to a deli. “I’ll grab our lunch, then we’ll go to one of my favorite places to eat it.”
He hops out of the car and comes back five minutes later with a large wicker basket, which he sets in the backseat. “I actually built this place for Macklin as a Christmas gift one year, but it ended up being a favorite place of both his and mine.”
“There’s something about perching up high that gives you an exhilaration like no other,” he says excitedly. We head out of town, passing several ranches and meadows with horses and cows dotting the landscape. After about twenty minutes, he pulls off onto a dirt road. “Almost there.”
A few minutes later, he stops at the base of a mountain.
I wave a hand toward my flats. “Umm, I don’t think I’m dressed for climbing mountains.”
His lips twitch. “I could fly you up there.”
“I don’t even know if you’re a good flyer,” I say, only half joking. “Is there a third option?”
The corners of his mouth turn up. “If you insist.” Getting out, he comes around and helps me down, then grabs the picnic basket. Taking my hand, he pulls me into the woods and over to a…hillside tram. “Voilà!”
I smile in relief. “That I can do.”
He opens the door, and I get in and sit on one side. He puts the picnic basket on the opposite seat and sits next to me. Then he hits the button, and the tram slowly ascends the mountain. When it stops, I see a glass building.
“What is it? A tiny home?”
He laughs. “Even better. It’s a refuge.”
He pulls me over to the building, and when we step inside, I find it’s encased by nature on three sides. But the fourth is completely open; all of Greystone is spread out in front of us.
“Macklin needed a place to escape where the town couldn’t find him, but he could still feel like he was close enough to reach them if something came up,” he says, setting the picnic down on the small table.
He pulls me over to the couch. “But the moment I sat down and looked out this window, I knew it would also become a refuge for me.”
“It feels like you can breathe up here,” I tell him, catching his excitement. Turning in a circle, I note the couch and end table that serve as the living room. In the corner sits a queen-size bed. And on the other side, a kitchen stands along one wall with a small dining table. “I love it.”
He tugs me back to the small table and pulls out my chair. Once I’m seated, he opens the basket and pulls out an odd assortment of food.
When it begins to feel never-ending, I tilt my head. “What in the world?”
He smiles. “Don’t worry. Most of the portions are tiny. I asked them for an assortment of things for us to try. Like a food adventure.”
Intrigued, I study the small dishes spread out before us. “This is going to be fun.” I glance up at him. “Let’s start with your favorite, since you’ve been to the deli before.”
He picks up a small sandwich. “This one. A chicken fillet roll. Makes me think of home.” Cutting it in half, he places one on my plate and the other on his.
I bite into it and realize it’s a piece of chicken that’s been dipped into a batter and fried. But the oddest thing is it sits on a bun with butter and mayonnaise. “It’s good.”
He huffs, but I see the twinkling in his blue-grey eyes. “Hmm, okay, let’s see. You’re from the South, right? You might like this one.” He picks up a small wedge and cuts it in half, then puts one on my plate.
I take a bite and wrinkle my nose. “You’re going to think I’m picky.”
“You don’t like pimento cheese?” He sounds shocked. “Are you sure you’re southern?”
I laugh and pick through the small containers. “I know. My mother used to shake her head at that one too. Ooh, now this, I love.” I place one stuffed cabbage roll on his plate, and the other on mine.
He takes a bite and nods. “It’s good. What is it?”
“Sweet and sour cabbage rolls. They were always one of my favorites,” I tell him. “Have you ever had the potato soup at the café? Vic makes it from scratch. It reminds me of my mother’s. Well, she learned it from my grandmother.”
“I haven’t. We’ll have to eat there one night. You didn’t learn the recipe?” he asks, picking up another container. Opening it, he sets an odd-looking egg on my plate.
“I know the recipe, but I’m a terrible cook,” I admit with a sigh. “Macklin’s kitchen is safe from me.”
“Me too,” he says with a laugh. “Did you know your grandmother?”
“I did. She passed when I was seven,” I say with a smile. “She always smelled like fresh baked cookies. What about your family?”
He gives me a half smile. “I don’t remember my family. Gargoyles used to send their children to the academy to be raised by the military.”
My mouth drops open. “So, you never had a home?”
“Not until we came here,” he says with a shrug.
“But they don’t anymore, right? Send their children away?” I ask him, understanding his need to control things a little more now.
“The gargoyle army was decimated by the vampire war. There are very few gargoyles left,” he replies, then looks at me. “But even if they were still around, I’d never send my child away.” His voice is fierce with conviction.
“Good,” I reply with a sigh.
“Do you want kids?” He asks lightly as if he’s concerned his question will make me want to run.
I’d never really thought about it before but as I peer into his sterling grey-blue eyes, I know it’s not even a question. “Eventually. However they come. Birth. Adoption.”
He flashes that broad grin I love so much. “Me too.” Surprisingly, he backs off, motioning to my plate. “Try this. It’s a Scotch egg.”
I tentatively take a bite, then moan when all the flavors hit my tongue. “This is delicious. Like someone decided to roll breakfast into one bite.”
We sit there trading stories and sharing food for the next hour. Stuffed, I lean back and rub my stomach. “I think my pants are going to pop.”
He packs everything back up and reaches for my hand. “I’m not ready to share you with the world yet.” Tugging me over to the sofa, he lies down and motions for me to join him. With my back to his front, we lie there, looking out over Greystone.
My lids droop, and he tucks me under his chin. “Tired?”
“Hmm, didn’t get much sleep last night,” I mumble.
He runs a comforting hand down my body. “I know we took your mind off it last night, but if you need to talk to someone about what happened, we can make you an appointment with one of the psychologists in town.”
I nod. “It might help. I’ll think about it.” Lacing my fingers with his, I snuggle down into the couch and stare at the idyllic scene in front of us until my lids droop.
“Close your eyes. We don’t have anywhere to be,” he says, wrapping his arms around me until all I feel is him and his warmth.
I drop off to sleep a minute later.