Page 23 of Never Dance with the Devils
Oh my God, am I really considering this? Am I actually doing this?
In under a minute, I get a reply.
Tomorrow at 7pm?
It’s followed by an address about an hour from my place in the city. Perfect, in that it’s somewhat anonymous, or as anonymous as I can be.
Looking forward to it.
It’s the safest answer I can come up with, true at its root but not revealing any of my panic.
Us too.
I reread the short exchange over and over, trying to decipher any hidden meaning in the few words but mostly just getting excited at the prospect of seeing them again. I also open my banking app and send a donation equal to the cost of the tickets plus some to the Harrington Foundation because these Devils tickets will not be offered at the gala. I’m keeping them for myself, though I’ll let Angeline and Jerry use them anytime they’d like.
Suddenly, I feel like I need a crash course in hockey.
RIGGS
When the doorbell rings, Maddox and I jump up from our spots on the two couches in the living room where we’ve been eyeing the front door for the last thirty minutes of impatient waiting. “She’s here,” he says.
I try not to laugh. He looks like a kid who just saw Santa Claus. “No shit.”
I’m putting up a good front of ‘couldn’t care less’, but I’m rushing for the door the same way he is, volleying for position with elbows out to get there first. Maybe we’re both trying to be first. In the end, he beats me, flashing a quick grin of victory before opening the door.
“Hello. Welcome. Howdy. How do you do?” he says, holding out an arm to invite her inside.
Has he lost the one brain cell he possesses? It’s possible. Is he nervous? That’s more likely. But that only makes me more tense. If Mr. Perpetually Optimistic thinks this has the potential to implode, chances are good to certain that it’s going to blow up in our faces.
I watch as her eyes look over Maddox and then me. “Hey,” I say by way of greeting, much cooler than Maddox’s too-eager verbal attack. Her gaze drifts past me to the house beyond.
“Is this your house? Or one of yours?” She looks confused about whom she’s asking.
“It’s both of ours,” Maddox offers.
“It’s not as weird as it sounds,” I add. “It just made financial sense.” Maddox glares at me, his lips pressed into a thin line, and I shrug, mouthing, “What?”
We definitely discussed the financial benefits of buying a home together before doing it, though we both know there’s more to it than that. But I’m trying to keep from scaring Kayla off.
Maddox seems to be taking another approach. Knowing him, it’s something like charm and bullshittery because he leans in close as he tells Kayla, “We have our own suites on opposite sides of the house. I’d be happy to give you a tour… if you’d like to come inside, said the spider to the fly.” Because yeah, she’s still standing in the doorway like she’s undecided about this.
Her answering smile is easy, unlike the woman before us. But I think her unapproachable, unattainable, arm’s length difficultness is what I like about her. I never would’ve thought I’d want a challenge and enjoy the chase. I’m more a ‘what you see is what you get’ sort, but with Kayla, I just want her. However she comes.
As she walks in the door, Maddox and I each take a moment to look her up and down while she gets her bearings. “You look beautiful,” Maddox praises.
She does. Her blonde hair is softly curled, her lips are glossy pink, and her skin glows with some sort of magic. She’s wearing a pale blue, form-fitted dress that ends a few inches shy of her knees, a pair of nude stiletto heels,gold jewelry at her ears and throat, and she’s holding a brown clutch. She looks like old money royalty, not only because of her outfit, but in the way she carries herself as she examines the foyer, setting her purse down on the table there. She’s several ranks out of our league. Hell, I don’t think she’s even in the same game as us, but here she is.
“Thank you.”
For all her manners and refined elegance, Maddox and I might as well be stray dogs sniffing around her and getting more and more riled up as the smell of her floral perfume wafts into our noses. Fuck, I’ve missed this and the few minutes in her office wasn’t nearly enough. I’m under no disillusionment that tonight will satisfy this urge toward her that’s riding me hard, but it’s a start.
If we don’t blow it.
“Come on, we’ll show you around,” I grunt. I’m trying my best here, and that’s my attempt toward politeness. I pair the effort with a respectful grasp of her hand, leading her into the living room.
Behind us, I hear Maddox mumbling under his breath. “Settle down. Charm her, don’t attack her.” Surprisingly, it sounds like he’s talking to himself, not giving me a much-needed reminder.
At least I know I’m not the only one feeling desperate to get back inside Kayla. But if he’s the charmer and struggling that much, we might be fucked. God knows, I’m not the one to act right. I’ll probably have her hair-flipping out of here before we open the wine.