Chapter 5
Ihad high hopes for this date with Brandon. I should have tempered my expectations. Going out with someone should be fun and carefree, at least for the first time. It shouldn't be weird. Except Brandon isn't making it easy.
He blabbers on across from me, his hands waving around.
He's almost hit his coffee cup half a dozen times while he goes on and on about his fantasy football league.
When he asked me if I knew what it was, I said I did, but apparently he heard, “tell me everything about it like I've been living in a cave for sixty years.” It's annoying and I gave up trying to steer the conversation to something else. I stopped listening twenty minutes ago.
Now I'm wondering how the hell I can get out of this disaster.
I don't have anyone to fake an emergency phone call with.
My friends are still away on another group family vacation.
I got the text about the trip right before Brandon approached me a few days ago.
I blame my distraction on why I didn't notice the red flags waving in my face.
Brandon was probably throwing them at me, and I missed every single one.
I'm loath to admit the other reason I jumped all over Brandon's offer to take me out. My thoughts have been entirely consumed with Omen and I need something to pull me out of this loop.
He's a demon. No matter how many times I remind myself of that, I can't seem to stop.
Thankfully, I've caught myself before I've summoned him again.
I could have used his help to clean the gutters, which are still clogged.
Or maybe help me with the vines covering the outside of my house.
If I let them fester, they'll destroy my foundation, at least that's what the video I saw said.
Doesn't mean he hasn't invaded every part of my brain, especially at night.
I catch myself wondering what he's doing, if he's thinking about me, whether or not he wants me. It's unhealthy.
I've successfully kept Omen's name out of my mouth.
Until today, and I didn't even mean to. My neighbor a mile down the road called about my package being delivered to her house.
She asked what I was doing for the holiday.
It took me a minute to figure out she was talking about the town festival, which is technically not a holiday.
I don't even know why I was confessing anything to her.
We're not friends, really. She keeps to herself mostly, enjoying her retirement.
Before I knew it, though, she'd pulled the details from me and I accidentally said Omen's name.
It was embarrassing even if she didn't understand.
“Have you heard of him?” Brandon's voice cuts through my thoughts and I tilt my head.
“Mhm.” I nod, forcing a polite smile on my face. I feel like a bobblehead, but I’m liable to fall asleep if I don’t move. “What do you do for work again?”
Annoyance flashes in his light eyes before he can hide it. “A club. Now, as I was saying—”
I tune him out again, making sure I nod and grunt every once in a while. My gaze wanders toward the barista behind the counter. Our eyes meet and she winces, then holds up a sign. I squint to make out the writing.
Need help?
I almost snort, then subtly shake my head.
Her brows pull low and she rolls her eyes.
At least I have one person waiting in the wings to save me if need be.
Early on, I thought about just summoning Omen here.
No one around here knows I'm a witch, though.
Even if they did, I doubt a demon showing up in their midst would go over well.
Besides, I don't need him coming in like a knight in shining armor.
I straighten my shoulders, reminding myself I'm a strong, independent woman.
“He came into one of my clubs a few weeks ago.
I'm sure you've never experienced something like that before.
I could get you in if you'd like, though you'd have to wear something a bit…sexier.” He smirks as if I'll agree with him.
Besides the fact this black shift dress is the sexiest one I have, I'm not really the club type of girl.
Maybe he's just nervous and really, really bad at flirting. I pull in a deep breath, hoping I can salvage this. It doesn't matter if I never see Omen again. I may not have a future with a demon, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't have a future at all.
“You own a club? What's that like?”
He laughs a little too loud. “I'm the one who decides who's good enough to come into the club. Plus, I get free drinks.”
“Oh, you're a bouncer?” Not that I care. Being a bouncer isn't something to be ashamed of, but Brandon seems like it's a great affront to his character.
He flushes, then puffs out his chest. “No, I'm a supervisor. Head Supervisor.”
“Wow. That must be…a lot of work.”
His eyes narrow as if he doesn't quite believe me. “I practically own the place. I just didn't want the responsibility of paperwork. Not that you'd understand that.”
“Does that work?” I blurt out, and he gives me a confused look.
“Does what work?”
Fuck it. “Insulting women. I'm just wondering if that works. Do women swoon around you or fall into your bed more if you insult them? I'm genuinely curious.”
“Listen, sweetie—”
“Not a great start,” I mumble.
He continues on as if I didn't speak. “I know this might be hard for you to grasp, but I'm doing you a favor here.
It's not an insult to recognize one’s shortcomings.
And with the right partner, one can seek their full potential.
If you let me fill in your empty spaces, the parts of your life you're lacking, then you can do the same for me.”
“What areas are you lacking, Brandon?”
He gives me a disarming grin that makes my skin crawl. “I'm not great at dishes. Or laundry. See, those are the areas you could support me.”
I set my cup down gently, resisting the urge to throw it in his face.
I slip my wallet off the table. One of these days I'll learn my lesson.
It's not often I go out. Every six months I get a bug up my butt, thinking I need something more in my life.
I put myself out there and usually regret it.
Actually, I always regret it. Doesn't matter who I meet, they all end up being duds or we don't mesh.
I should give up and resign myself to being alone.
It would free me up for a fling with Omen if I had the guts.
Which I don't. Omen is off-limits. If I keep reminding myself, maybe it'll finally sink in.
Otherwise, I'll continue imagining him sinking into me.
A flush travels down my body and settles between my legs.
“One last question, if you will,” I say, leaning forward. “Who does your dishes now?”
“I eat out mostly, which I'm sure you'll appreciate once we get together.”
I nod, pressing my lips together. “And your laundry? Or do you send out for that as well?”
He laughs, but there's a nervous tinge to it now. “I have someone to do that for me.”
“Is that someone your mother?” I raise a single eyebrow as he sputters, and I huff out a laugh. “That's what I thought. We're clearly not compatible, Brandon. Thank you for the coffee.”
I don't know why I'm thanking him. I bought my own cup when I got here since Brandon was ten minutes late.
That's about the moment I should have left.
Except I wasn't sure if Omen had actually gone back to Hell.
The last thing I wanted to do was slink home in disgrace because I couldn't pick a decent guy to go out with.
I'm doing it now, but Omen is less likely to know about it.
I can eat a pint of ice cream and mourn the loss of my dating life in peace.
“Wait, you're leaving? I think you're making a big mistake. Why don't you sit down and we can get on the same page?”
“I'd rather not. You're looking for a mother and I'm looking for a partner. It's perfectly fine to wait for someone who…meshes with you better.”
I push to my feet and catch the barista's eye. She gives me a not-so-subtle thumbs up. Hopefully I won't have to drag her into this.
“No, no. You don't get to reject me. I reject you. That's how this works. Now, why don't we go someplace we can talk privately? I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me.” He shoves his chair back and stands before reaching out for me.
Instinctively, I step back, almost tripping over my own chair. “No, thank you. I'm going home and so should you. Or go have a couple free drinks at your club.”
Rage flashes across his face, twisting his lips. As quickly as it came, his expression dissolves into the affable one he had when we first met. If it wasn’t for the barista behind the counter, I might be worried. He runs a hand through his light brown hair as he glances away.
“If you change your mind, you have my number,” he mumbles, suddenly looking contrite. Part of me feels bad. Then I remember he tried to get me to hook up with him in exchange for me doing his laundry. I don't have the best track records with washers right now, so it's probably for the best.
“Have a good night,” I say softly. I almost blurt out it was nice meeting him, but I catch myself at the last second. I make it a point not to lie if I can help it. If he turns into a misogynistic prick again, I'll do anything to get away from him.
I wave to the barista, then walk out the door without a backward glance.
I'm kicking myself for not driving. Now I'll have to walk home, looking over my shoulder every few minutes.
Brandon probably won't come after me. If he does, well, I'll just have to hex him.
I'm sure the book has something I could use if that doesn’t work.
It takes me twice as long to get home with these heels, but I let out a sigh of relief when I turn onto my gravel road.
Not the greatest footwear decision for this trek.
I pick up the pace when my vine-covered cottage comes into view.
My muscles relax and I lope up to the front door.
With a protection spell in place, I feel a lot better about how I ended my date.
The worst Brandon will be able to do is scream on my front lawn.
As soon as I'm inside, I kick off my shoes and struggle to reach the zipper on my dress. I can only get it a few inches down and I realize I might have to rip it to get it off. Summoning my demon—no, the demon—isn't an option. I have to stop seeing Omen as my backup plan.
My body flushes at the thought of him and I'm still trying to convince myself to forget about him when I stop short just inside my bedroom.
My mouth drops open at Omen sprawled across my bed.
I smother a chuckle with my hand when I spot his cat perched under his arm.
He didn't strike me as a cat person. I make a note to ask what the cat's name is, since I can't keep calling him Handsome or Sunshine or Kitty Cat.
Omen looks different in his sleep. There's a softness to his features I haven't seen before.
I wander closer until my shins brush against my comforter.
Handsome stretches and yawns, blinking dark eyes in my direction.
His squishy little face and his fluffy fur make me want to scoop him up and cuddle him.
He'd make me feel better after my disaster of a date.
He'd probably scratch the hell out of Brandon if I asked.
I wonder if he's a hellcat. It would make sense.
I sigh, shaking my head. It's not like it matters.
Omen will take the cat when he goes. From the way he was acting when he asked me for fries, he doesn't want to be here.
He doesn't want me summoning him, and I need to respect that.
Which means I definitely shouldn't touch him, no matter how much I want to.
Still, I reach out my fingers. A shout from outside has me yanking my hand back.
Omen doesn't move, and I swallow hard before I spin around.
I'm playing with fire. I slip from the room, wondering if I should wake him.
There's more yelling from outside, though I can't make out the words.
By the time I reach the living room and peek through the curtains, the noise has died down.
“Motherfucker,” I whisper harshly.
Brandon, fists on his hips and face flushed beyond recognition, is screaming at my house.
He must have followed me home. What an asshole.
I squint, trying to figure out what he's saying.
Something about owing him and demanding to be let in.
I jerk back when he rushes the door. My protection spell will keep him out. He won't even get up the stairs.
Omen's cat winds around my leg and I yelp.
Seconds later, Brandon attacks my door. Fear drenches me when the handle jiggles and I stumble back.
My arms pinwheel as I fall over the coffee table.
The cat yowls as it tangles with my feet, and I end up flipping over completely.
Brandon hasn't given up, still pounding on the door.
I groan as my hair tumbles around me, free of the clip I trapped the strands in. As I push to my feet, my dress tears at the zipper and I wince. I glance over my shoulder, trying to gauge the damage. It's in no danger of falling off, so I leave it as I stomp toward the door.
Maybe my protection spell wore off or Brandon isn't quite what he seems. Doesn't matter since I'm going to send him packing.
For all his bellyaching, I don't think he's going to hurt me.
My protection spell failing is scarier, honestly.
One man can't be that bad. By the time I reach the door, he's stopped.
Something thumps against the door and soft sobs echo through the wood. I hesitate, then turn the knob.
Brandon's tear-streaked face and disheveled hair greet me.
His gaze travels over my face, then dips to my chest before coming back to my face.
Slowly, his eyes scan behind me, and I wonder if he's about to push into my house.
I brace myself for him to attack. Despite how pathetic he looks, he could still hurt me.
Alarm flashes across his face and he tucks his chin to his chest, then glances over my head and lets out a shuddering sigh.
“Something we can help you with, Brian?” Omen's deep voice rumbles through me, making me shiver, and Brandon swallows hard. “I didn't think so.”