Page 39 of The Seeker
Rhys thrust the bag into her hands. “They didn’t have crawfish étouffée,” he said crossly. “I bought shrimp and grits and crawfish poutine. I hope that’s acceptable.”
Meera took the bag. “Thank you.”
Neither of them moved.
“Étouffée. And an apology.”
He took a deep breath and reminded himself he had been an arse. He’d been high on adrenaline and magic, appalled that the Grigori had been drawn to Meera so precisely, and worried far more than he expected for someone who was, at best, an intriguing new colleague.
Liar. You want to play naked chess with her.
So he’d been an arse.
“I’m sorry I underestimated you,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”
She started to say something, then stopped and took a breath. “Fine. Apology accepted.”
“Good.”
Neither of them moved.
Rhys glanced over his shoulder. “Your garden is lovely. Did you plant it?”
“No. I just enjoy it. My landlord takes care of it since both properties share the backyard.” She pointed to the narrow shotgun-style house beside her own. “I do a little bit here and there.”
Rhys nodded, having exhausted his capacity for small talk. He didn’t want to eat. Didn’t want to talk about gardens. He wanted to find out what Meera knew about the Wolf—
And play naked chess.
No. He had goals. Objectives for the evening. And the woman hadn’t moved from the front door.
She looked down at the bag, then back to Rhys. “As you might have been able to tell the other night, I’m not accustomed to having other people here.”
Her unexpected admission eased his nerves. “No one?”
“Sometimes my father visits. That’s all. I invited my mother once, but she couldn’t relax. She kept eyeing the house’s exit points and muttering under her breath.”
“I’ve met your father.”And your mother sounds equally terrifying.Rhys didn’t say that part.
Meera nodded. “Yes, he mentioned he’d met you.”
“It was an interesting experience.”
“He’s an interesting man.” She stood awkwardly in the doorway for another few seconds before she stepped aside. “Please come in.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you like beer?”
“I do.”
“Have a seat.” Meera put the food on the table, and Rhys sat down while she went to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles.
The bubbly, confident woman he’d met on the streets of the French Quarter was gone. The comforting woman who’d read his mood and coddled him in the club on the night he’d killed the Grigori in the cemetery was also gone. Her silence annoyed him, and he couldn’t understand why. He wasn’t usually one for chatter.
You like her chatter.
“Meera, stop.” Rhys caught her hand as she walked past him in the small kitchen.
