“Come on, girl. You know I always have a plan and even a plan B.”
“Oh yeah, I do. But right now, it’s just good to hear it out loud.”
“Why?”
“Because…funny that you mention being handy with plan Bs…”
I’m done with the not-so-subtle hint, but her silence stretches on. Thankfully, not for too long.
“Ermmm…little Tigger, are you trying to say you boinged on something other than your bouncy flouncy tail last night?”
I duck my head. “More like…something else boinged on me.”
“And you need a morning-after kit for it now?” she punches in a perplexed huff. “What about the other night? Weren’t there naughty shenanigans after the Duke of Deliciousness first touched down?”
“Shenanigans, yes. But boinging, no.”
“But there was boinging last night. And things got out of hand.”
“More like out of this world. Which does not excuse the irresponsible choices.”
“Hey. Update, baby. You’re a human being, not a cartoon tiger. I understand. And, in light of how le duke keeps lighting you up, I’ll toss in some precautionary foil packets. Do you have a preference? Warming? Lubed? Glow in the dark? Double ribbed, for her pleasure?”
Her announcer voice emphasis on the old marketing line has me giggling. Leave it to Drue to ease my qualms without even knowing she is. “Basic is fine,” I answer quickly. “Because if there’s any more pleasure added to this equation, you may be cleaning my guts off the walls around here.”
“Ew. And damn,” she drawls. “That good? Seriously?”
“Let’s just say you should be calling the man king instead of duke.”
“And crank up that boy’s arrogant knob that much more? I do not think so.”
“You’re kidding me, right? Little D Train, I have never ever known a female who craves alpha-boy arrogance more than you.”
“Which has gotten me where, exactly—other than facing my thirties with an apartment for one and a nickname based on a cartoon donkey, that’s where.”
“Hey. It’s not that shitty, okay?”
“And there’s my bouncy flouncy girl, right on schedule.”
I shoot out a teasing grrr before soldiering on. “Look at the bright side. At least you’re not calling your best friend at the butt-crack of dawn and asking her to make the drug store walk of shame for you.”
“Don’t forget the delivering-across-town part. Especially because I may need to take a boat. Hey! If I look distressed enough, you think a group of hottie sailors will appear in their nifty Zodiac and give me a ride?”
Can’t help repeating my snort. “You realize most of those dudes take showers of arrogance every day, yes?”
“Then it is perfect weather for a little outing, yeah?” There’s rustling from her end, making me believe she’s stabbing her legs into blue jeans. “I’ll be there in a bit. Meet me in the little den off the lobby. It has a door that leads to the alley behind the inn. You need me to get any other essentials while I’m at it?”
“I’m scared to consider what you think of as essential, but yes. And if it’s not too much trouble, a couple dozen soup dumplings from that twenty-four-hour place around the corner from you?”
“Oh, damn. I must say, for a girl who’s just had her mind blown by His Majesty of Sexual Prowess, you’re on point with the order-in game.”
“And you’re on point with the best-friend game.” I work as hard as I can to hug her with every syllable. “Honestly, D. What would I do without you?”
“Pffft.” She sees my pretend hug and raises it by a vocal shrug. “You’re doing me the favor. We got word this morning that the shoot is likely to be delayed even longer since the storm has stalled. After it scoots, we have to wait for everything in the park to dry up. Dripping leaves really fuck with the mics.”
“So that means Bastien and I can stay put here for a bit?” I twine the cord around my finger hard enough to turn the tip white. “I mean, I hate to even ask…and if it’s not okay, I underst—”
“No. It’s cool,” she interjects. “Even gave me an excuse to text Cy because he’s been popping over there to check in on the equipment in the room we’re using for storage. I didn’t tell him the entire truth, of course, but he knows you’re there. He thinks you’re hiding out from your crazy ex and that Bastien’s your brother.”
“Oh God.” I groan-laugh. “Yeah, that’d probably make things easier, right?”
I wish it was equally easy to ignore the dread that lingers in my gut after D gives a chuckling goodbye. The apprehension that continues well after I find the den and settle in to wait on my friend. Staring out at the rain, even through the stained glass of the inn’s back door, doesn’t bring as much peace as I expected it would.
Because no matter how I project the days ahead, I’m screwed.
If Logan really decides we’re the new bone in his persistent doggy maw, I have to figure out the logistics of where to hide Bastien next. But if the detective moves on to more interesting horizons, we’ll be able to freely make our way back to Max and Allie’s place—and the portal that will take Bastien back to where he clearly belongs. The time where he doesn’t have to worry about being mauled for simply walking through doors and tossed off busses for being a decent human being. Where he can get a head start on escaping the Jacobins and relocate to some quaint German village with Magique.
A village I can practically see.
The church steeple. The rustic Bavarian buildings. The sparkling river running beneath stone bridges…
And can smell.
The dahlias along the river. Freshly baked brötchen and brezels. The new grass in the nearby meadow.
And can hear.
Carts rumbling on the cobblestones. Geese on the river. Children in that glorious meadow.
Our children…
I jolt to my feet. Violently shake my head. “No. You’ve had too much stress and too little sleep. Just no, Raegan.”
But as I fight to resettle my thoughts and form new plans, I wonder why a world without Bastien De Leon already feels like an awful, foreign place. And how I’ll ever look at this city, or this century, as home, ever again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BASTIEN
When the Almighty was molding Maximillian and me, then arrived at the moment to mix patience into the clay, somebody bumped his arm. My brother ended up with the lion’s share of the virtue, while the sprinkling that got into me is usually reserved for long nights on patrol or longer days at court.
I am fairly certain neither of those conditions apply now.
Which means I feel no compunction about casting another long glare at the digital timepiece on the table beside the bed and deciding that Raegan Tavish has used up her reasonable allotment of won’t take me long.
By the time the clock flashes another minute gone by, I have re-donned my breeches. My well of patience is approaching parched.
I march across the room, carefully pull open the door to the hallway, and peer down the corridor.