Page 10 of Summoning Mr. Wrong (Hotter than Hell #1)

My phone rang as I was helping Deus wash the dishes (a domestic scene so surreal I kept expecting to wake up). It was my boss at the coffee shop.

“Julian,” she said without preamble, “I hate to do this over the phone, but we’re going to have to let you go.”

My stomach dropped. “What? Why? Is it because I was late on Tuesday? Because my alarm—”

“It’s not that,” she interrupted. “The owner’s nephew needs a job, and, well… you know how it is. Family first.”

I did know how it was. It was bullshit, is what it was.

“When’s my last day?” I asked, already mentally calculating how long I could stretch my meager savings.

“Today was, actually. I’ll mail your last check.”

And just like that, I was unemployed. I set my phone down carefully, as if it might explode.

“Bad news?” Deus asked, drying a plate with more concentration than the task required.

“I just got fired.” The words felt hollow in my mouth. “So I can’t pay rent, can’t buy food, and will probably be homeless by the end of the month. But hey, at least the owner’s nephew has a bright future in coffee art.”

Deus set down the plate and turned to face me fully. “I’m sorry, Julian.”

“Not your fault.” I leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted despite having just woken up. “Just my perpetually shitty luck.”

“What can I do?”

The question caught me off guard. I’d expected a sarcastic comment, maybe some demonic perspective on how brief human problems were in the grand scheme of things. Not this simple offer of help.

“Unless you can conjure up a new job or a pile of cash, not much,” I said, trying for humor but landing closer to bitter.

“I can, actually,” he said seriously. “The cash part, at least. I told you money for your date wasn’t an issue.”

I frowned. “Where do you get money from? Do demons have bank accounts?”

“We have our ways.” He waved dismissively. “The point is, I can help with your financial situation while you look for another job.”

Pride warred with practicality in my mind. On one hand, taking money from a demon seemed like the beginning of a very bad deal. On the other hand, eviction was a very real possibility.

“I can’t accept your money,” I said finally. “It feels too much like… I don’t know, payment.”

“For the sex?” Deus raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, if I were paying for that, I’d—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I warned, feeling my face heat up again. “I just mean it would make things weird. Weirder than they already are with the whole demon roommate situation.”

Deus considered this, then nodded. “Fair enough. What about a loan, then? You can pay me back when you’re back on your feet.”

It was a reasonable compromise. Too reasonable, which made me suspicious.

“What’s the interest rate?” I asked cautiously. “And please don’t say ‘your soul’ or something equally dramatic.”

He laughed. “No interest. Consider it part of the favor I’m still working on.”

“Speaking of which, any progress on figuring out what that favor actually is?”

A strange expression crossed his face, there and gone so quickly I almost thought I imagined it. “Some. But nothing definitive yet.”

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll accept a loan, but only enough to cover rent and basic necessities until I find another job.”

“Deal.” He held out his hand.

I hesitated. “This isn’t another contract, is it? Because I’m not signing anything else with my blood.”

“Just a handshake,” he assured me. “No binding magical properties whatsoever.”

I shook his hand, trying to ignore the now-familiar tingle of energy that passed between us at the contact. His tattoos swirled around his wrist, a few tendrils briefly crossing onto my skin before retreating.

“Great,” he said brightly. “Now that that’s settled, what do you want to do with your unexpected day off? We could watch movies, go for a walk, have mind-blowing sex… the day is young.”

I pulled my hand back, suddenly remembering he was still wearing only an apron. “I should probably update my resume and start job hunting.”

“Responsible,” he said with obvious disappointment. “Boring, but responsible.”

“Welcome to adulting,” I replied. “It’s mostly responsible and boring, with occasional moments of panic.”

He made a face. “No wonder humans are always so stressed. Come on, at least let me help with your resume. I’ve seen a lot of job applications over the centuries.”

Which is how I ended up sitting at my tiny desk with a demon peering over my shoulder, critiquing my employment history.

“‘Attention to detail’? Seriously?” Deus scoffed. “That’s what everyone puts. Be specific. ‘Developed specialized coffee preparation techniques resulting in 15% increase in regular customers.’”

“That’s a complete exaggeration,” I protested. “I just made coffee the way people ordered it.”

“It’s marketing, not lying,” he insisted. “Humans do it all the time.”

After an hour of Deus’s surprisingly effective resume advice (punctuated by his running commentary on how humans made everything needlessly complicated), I had a document that actually looked impressive. Whether it would get me a job was another question entirely.

“Now can we do something fun?” Deus asked, draping himself dramatically across my bed. Somewhere during the resume session, he’d finally put on clothes—loose sweatpants and another of my t-shirts that stretched tight across his broad chest.

“I should really start applying to jobs,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it. The thought of sending out dozens of applications only to be ignored or rejected was too depressing to face immediately after being fired.

Deus must have sensed my mood because his approach changed. “How about this,” he said, sitting up. “We take a break, do something to clear your head, and then you can come back to the job hunt with fresh eyes.”

It was sensible advice. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing elaborate,” he assured me. “Maybe a walk? Some fresh air? I’ve been told that helps humans process stress.”

The suggestion was so normal, so un-demonic, that I had to laugh. “A walk? That’s your big idea? Not, I don’t know, a bacchanalian orgy or a deal with a fortune 500 CEO?”

He shrugged. “I’m adaptable. We can do the orgy if you prefer, but I thought you might appreciate something simpler first.”

“A walk sounds perfect,” I said, still smiling. “Let me just change.”