Page 51 of Riot of Autumn

“Just the animal side?” I waggle my brows and then make an embarrassingly squeaky noise when Ezra stands up on the rung of his stool. He leans over the counter so fast I don’t have time to react. His hand wraps around the back of my neck and he tugs our faces together until his forehead is pressed against mine. Our lips brush together as he speaks.

“Every side. I’m dying to hear you make that sound while I fuck all the words right out of you.”

Oh, boy.

Heat blasts through my body. We’re both breathing a little too hard for where we’re at. My job, in public, with a smattering of customers nearby.

“I thought we were keeping things casual?”

“So? Does that mean I can’t screw you until your legs won’t work anymore?”

The only sound I get out is a choked noise that could be interpreted multiple ways.

I hear a smack and then Ezra grunts before he backs off, but not before he brushes his lips over mine. Tecia is walking past him, a devilish look in her eye. I’m pretty sure she just swatted his ass.

“It’s about damn time,” Tecia sings like she’s channeling Lizzo as she dances back to the kitchen.

I set the napkins I’m still holding down. I flatten them out and determine if they’re garbage now or if I can still shove them in the holder with no one any the wiser. I go for option number two.

“Okay. Well, I’ve totally forgotten what we were talking about,” I say, and Ezra laughs, grinning at me when I push a cream soda across the counter toward him. His face grows serious though after he takes a drink.

“Seraphina was waiting for us. She said a bunch of bullshit and then we left her there, but I feel like things are escalating. I don’t want you going anywhere alone.”

“We’ve already been over this. I’m not going to put my life on hold until this problem is dealt with.” I hiss out the wordproblemas if anyone knows that we’re talking about magic and the Fae. “Anthony’s been here for nearly thirty fucking years. What if they’re here for another thirty? I’m not going to cower in my house and let life pass me by.”

Steely determination meets my gaze as Ezra nods. “Then you should start showing your art.”

I groan and finish up with the napkins, slapping them back down into their respective places on the counter. “Do we really need to have this conversation again?”

“I’m not pressing. I’m just saying you’re right. Why waste time hiding things? You’re so bold and you take no fucking prisoners, Cube.”

For once, the nickname doesn’t sting. After he told me what it means to him, it’s a lot more endearing.

“The world is missing out. I won’t say anything else about it. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Well, now I feel all gooey inside and I can’t even think of something to argue with you about.” I bat my lashes, trying to make a joke out of the feelings rushing through me, but honestly, I’m about to launch myself over the counter and into his arms.

“I’m sure the feeling will pass,” Ezra says, and I roll my eyes at him.

“You have a good night.” A man drops his check on the counter with some cash.

I peel my gaze away from Ezra and spot the man with shiny long black hair walking away from us and heading toward the door. I hadn’t even noticed he’d been in the diner today.

“Who is that? I’ve seen him around town a few times now.” Ezra frowns at the stranger’s back as he watches him walk out the door.

“I don’t know.” Until just now, I wasn’t worried about him. It’s not like I suspect every person who drops into the diner to be a Fae spy.

Maybe I should.

* * *

“Who needs a drink?” Miri plunks down a bottle of wine and some vodka before reaching beneath the counter and pulling out tequila, rum, and some whiskey.

Zara, Lena, and I are in the back room of Miri’s store, Tonic, sitting around the massive island that serves as a workspace for Miri. Davis rehabbed the space into a kitchen area so Miri can make all her store products here instead of at the cottage. Everything in the space is white and except for the green of plants and herbs that line the shelves on one wall, and the red brick of two of the exposed walls. The tile floor, the cabinets, counters, and even the sink are all gleaming white. It should feel overly sterile, but it has a warm and clean feeling instead.

“Don’t you need to concentrate when you’re making your stuff? Won’t it blow up if you try to do it when you’re drunk?” I reach across the counter and pull the vodka closer to me. I’m going to need something to mix with this.

As if reading my mind, Miri pulls out just as many drinks to mix from the refrigerator and sets them on the counter. She grabs four glasses and slaps them down in front of us.

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