“Yes, I am meeting my woma—I mean I am meeting my friends here.”
“And your friends would be…?” she asked in a snotty tone.
Seriously? This woman was not going to let him in? He was a fucking god, for gods’ sake! “Tula and her tall, heinous-looking sidekick, Gol—”
“You should talk, mister.” Gola appeared in a big black tentlike frock, a frown on her drooling lips. Her long blonde hair was back in a braid, looking greasier than ever.
“He’s with you?” asked the woman.
“Yeah. So go find some Seagram’s wine coolers or blueberry hard seltzer or whatever mean skinny girls drink these days.”
The woman narrowed her eyes and disappeared into the crowd.
Gola stared down at Zac.
“Thank you for that,” he said, “and sorry about the hideous comment.”
She held up her bony hand to stop him. “Don’t want to hear it. I’m perfectly aware that I’m no prize in the looks department and that my face is a fountain of slobber. You coming in or not, Hilbert?”
He nodded and entered. “Where’s Tula?”
“Over there.” Gola jerked her head to the side. “Just don’t get your hopes up. She seems to only be interested in men who are…well, not you.”
He smiled tightly. “Like you, I am well aware that this package is no prize, but there is more to me than what you see.”
Her eyes drifted down to his nether region. “Please keep it that way. I really don’t want to see what’s under your sporran.”
“Excellent choice. Well, if you’ll excuse me?”
“Good luck.” Gola gestured toward the door leading to the jam-packed living room. Tula had been right. Everyone here was tall, tan, beautiful, and dressed in casual but expensive-looking clothes. Designer jeans, silk tops, and strappy heels for the women. Jeans and blazers for the guys.
Zac entered the living room but didn’t spot Tula. Dammit. I can’t see shit in this body. Normally, his seven-foot-tall body towered over everyone in a room. He could see if a person had a healthy scalp, needed a touch-up on their roots, or required dandruff shampoo.
Suddenly, the sound of Tula’s sweet laughter filtered through the noise, rising above everything else.
“Excuse me. Excuse me.” Zac pushed his way through the crowd, eliciting laughs and comments about his outfit:
“Never seen a turnip in a skirt before.”
“Wow. Someone got hit with the ugly stick.”
“Poor man. How does he look at himself without throwing up?”
Assholes. Zac entered the huge all-white kitchen with crimson-red cupboards. A large group congregated around the kitchen island, where Tula sat in a tight black dress, cleavage out, legs crossed. She was smiling and flirting with three men while she sipped champagne.
What the…? He pushed his way over, sliding between two of the men. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Her blue eyes drifted down, down, down to meet his. “Oh, Hilbert. You made it.” Her tone said she couldn’t be more unimpressed by his presence. “What are you wearing?”
“It’s a kilt. It says I like Scottish stuff, because everyone knows Scots are very celebratory, which makes me Mr. Fun.” He held out his hand. “I want that dance you promised.”
The guys around her chuckled.
Tula’s eyes went wide. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious.”
“A promise is a promise, Tula.” Gola appeared behind him, arms folded.
Tula stared for a moment and then rolled her eyes. “Fine. One dance, but after that, you can’t talk to me the rest of the night. You’re killing my chances of scoring.”
What the hell was the matter with his woman? “Change of plans.” Zac grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him.
“Hey! Where are you taking me?” Tula protested.
“Outside. We need to talk, woman.”
“Woman? I’m not your woman.” She jerked her hand away. “And I’m not going anywhere with you.”
The partygoers in the kitchen stopped their conversations and stared.
Zac turned, shaking a finger at her. “Tula, you either hear me out, or I will-will…” What could he do without breaking the rules? And gods only knew who was watching. He bet Maury had demon spies everywhere. Because clearly, he and the gods were mistaken in assuming that all the demon portals had been closed. “I will tell everyone your secret.”
“Secret?” Tula raised a brow.
“Yeah, that’s right. I know all your secrets. I’m…a psychic. Yep. And unless you give me two minutes of your time, I will disclose everything—all your dark, dirty secrets—to every person at this party.”
Tula shrugged. “Okey dokey. Go for it.” She turned to head back where she’d been.
“Tula, please. I know I’m not the handsomest man here, but I promise I’m the only one willing to look at you for who you are on the inside. I see more than your legs and really adorable, perky breasts. I see more than your baby-blue eyes and silky blonde hair.”
She turned and looked at him, her eyes softening. “You really mean that?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I really do.”
She walked over and took his hand, dragging him outside onto the porch. Zac felt his insides bounce with excitement. He’d gotten through to her. And it had been so easy. I knew she was good. I knew she loved me.
Once outside on the patio, which overlooked a waterfall and the pool, Tula faced him. “You’re for real? You really wouldn’t care if I looked like…well…Gola, for example?”
That was a tall order. Literally. “Would there be pus and drool involved?”
“See! I knew it. You’re like all the rest. Obsessed with looks.”
“No. That’s not true. And if you just gave me a chance, you’d see that I’m a guy who’s looking for a connection.”
Tula shook her head. “Does that connection have to do with something in your pants? I mean skirt?”
Was this a trick question? “Um…no?”
“Ugh. Even ugly men are all the same. Well, you know what, Hilbert? I don’t know you, and I don’t want to get to know you because you’re butt ugly. I wouldn’t even take a dump on your face. That’s how little I think about you, m’kay? Because I’m tired of living in a world where everyone says looks don’t matter, but they’re all lying.” She swiped a hand over her mouth, but there was nothing there. “I give up. And I’m going to be shallow like everyone else and chase after the hottest guy I can get. Then I’ll take him home and ride him like a wild pony.”
“Tula,” he gasped, “I know that’s not what you want.”
She stared suspiciously.
“I-I mean,” he stuttered, “I don’t know you or anything, but I can’t imagine a beautiful, kind soul like yours is only after meaningless sex with a random male. You deserve better than that. I mean, I suspect you do. Because I don’t really know you, but my psychic powers tell me I’m onto something.”
Tula frowned. Hard emotions churned behind her eyes. He was getting through to her.