He turned with dinner: a pan of beautifully roasted chicken and vegetables with a sauce almost thick enough to be gravy. It smelled like heaven.
“That you know of.”
“That we know of,” I agreed.
“So you like the idea of Sedona, huh?” He settled dinner in the middle of the island, slightly to one side, then plucked serving utensils out of the drawer.
“I do like the idea of Sedona,” I said.
He dished food, and I dished food. Once our plates were full, he asked, “But?”
I took a bit of chicken then a chunk of yam, both covered in garlic, rosemary and sage sauce. “Oh, my gods,” I mumbled. “This is amazing.”
“Thank you. I got the recipe from Myra. Back to Sedona. But?”
I sighed and put my fork down, twisting my fingers in the cloth napkin I’d dropped in my lap.
“I can’t do it.”
“Sedona?” He sat back, pulling his beer with him, but not taking a drink yet.
“Yeah. Too far. I mean if Death is going to be handling all the god powers while I’m gone, I think I need to stay relatively nearby.”
He took a drink, waiting. The wind plowed over the roofing, tugging at the gutters and power lines.
“That makes sense. I’m not asking for the moon, Laney. I mean, unless we could book the moon.”
I grinned. “Terrible restaurants on the moon.”
“Oh?”
“No atmosphere at all.”
He blinked. Blinked again. Then he gulped down half his beer and pointed it at me. “That was a terrible joke.”
“No, it was perfect timing. For the gravity of our conversation. Get it? Gravity?”
He shoveled food in his mouth and just shook his head.
I followed his lead and ate dinner, enjoying every bite. I enjoyed the quiet, too, because I needed that sometimes. No questions, no demands, no conversation. Just our safe, comfy house around us. Just the two of us together.
“What about LaPine?” he finally asked. “The cabin. It’s in a little forested area overlooking a glade. Hot tub on the deck. Out in the middle of almost nowhere. All the privacy we could want.”
I sighed, picked up my beer and sipped. “Sounds like heaven. What days is it reserved for?”
“Tomorrow through Sunday.”
“Four whole days?”
“Well, I could extend the stay. I just wasn’t sure you would be willing to stay away any longer.”
“Because of my job?”
He shrugged. “That. And this is our first time vacationing together. I thought we might want to try a few days and see how it went before we booked a month cruise somewhere.”
“I am never going to cruise anywhere,” I said. “I don’t like boats nearly enough.”
He grinned. “Good to know. I’m never spelunking.”
“Good to know.”
I stood and took our plates to the sink. “This is our only chance, isn’t it?” I asked over the frothing of bubbles in the sink.
“To go on vacation?”
I nodded. He was twisted in his chair, watching me. I flicked bubbles his way and he batted them out of the air.
“We’ll have other chances.”
“But not for a long time,” I said. “Maybe not until next year.”
He finished his beer, then put both bottles in the recycle bin. “True. Plus, we have a wedding coming up. Lots to plan on top of everything else.”
I groaned. “It’s so much planning.”
He chuckled and stepped up behind me, hands landing on my hips, then stroking down my jeans before he wrapped his arms around me, pressing his warmth and his strength against my body, his mouth near my ear. “I like planning extravagant things with you,” he murmured, all sexy-like.
“A pizza tower isn’t extravagant,” I murmured back. “When I say fancy wedding, there better be some fancy stuff.”
He exhaled and the warm burst of air on my neck made me shiver. Then he leaned in a little closer and bit gently at my earlobe. “But it’s a whole tower. Made of pizza.”
“I expect you to bring your A-game to these negotiations, Mr. Bailey.”
He hummed and pressed a kiss to the base of my neck. Electricity ran through me: chest, spine, hips. Good thing I had already turned off the water or there’d have been bubbles all over the floor.
“How about a no-host bar?” he husked.
“Odin would kill me.”
“We’ll provide the fancy pretzels.”
“Pretzels aren’t fancy,” I gasped, as his hands slipped around in front of me, fingers gently tugging my sweater up just enough for his hands to slip under and stroke my heated skin.
“We can make them fancy.”
“How?”
“Chocolate-dipped pretzels.”
“Still not fancy enough. And what about the cake?”
He tugged my earlobe a little harder. “Who needs a dumb cake? Just serve everyone chocolate pretzels. Easy. Cheap. Give them a can of whipped cream and let them go nuts.” He deposited a hot, sucking kiss on my jaw.
I held my breath, so I didn’t groan. As soon as his lips lifted, I spun to face him, my hand locked and loaded with a mountain of bubbles. “No cake?”
His eyes were huge as I smashed my palm into his face, bubbles flying in all directions.
He spit and sputtered. “You did not just shove soap in my mouth.” He released me and backed up, bumping into the island.
“What’s that?” I batted my eyes innocently. “You were telling me we’re not going to have a dumb wedding cake? You want pretzels instead of a dumb wedding cake? I have been planning this wedding my whole life.”
Not true. I’d been obsessed with eloping since I first heard about it. Mostly because eloping seemed like some kind of legal crime.
“There had better be all sorts of fancy things happening at our wedding. Including cake.”
His eyes narrowed, and he tipped his head down. But that smile was all sin. “I think you better run, Delaney Reed. Or I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
I stood there, vibrating, knowing this was a game and the chase was on.
But instead of running, instead of making him chase me, I walked to him slowly, stood so close I could see his heartbeat through his shirt, could feel his need in waves radiating off him.
“I like the sound of action,” I said. “No accountability required.” Then I kissed him until the world faded and only we remained.
Chapter Eight
Two things happened at once: the knocking on the front door turned into pounding, and a brick wall fell on top of me.
“Ow,” I muttered, pushing at the brick wall. “Get off, bud.”
The brick wall grunted, then growled a very dragon-y growl. A soft piggy nose snuffled my palm, hot dragon breath washing over my skin.
I opened my eyes.
Dragon pig sat on my thighs, weighing roughly as much as a firehouse, wagging its tiny pink tail.
It oinked once, and that oink sounded very satisfied. It also smelled weirdly electric.
The pounding at the front door stopped, then started up again. This time just a knuckle rapping out the beat to a song. Sounded like the base line to “We Will Rock You.”