Page 14 of Hiss and Tell
Heat creeps up my neck. “I want to look nice. It’s important for… for the library situation.”
“Will Mr. Sebastian think you’re pretty?”
The innocent question makes my stomach flutter in ways that have nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the memory of the way my body responds like it’s full of static electricity when that handsome Gorgon comes close. “I hope he thinks I look… appropriate.”
“He already thinks you’re pretty,” Milo says with the confidence of someone who’s never questioned adult feelings. “I didn’t think snakes could smile, but they do when they see you.”
A soft knock at the door sends my heart racing. “That’s Miss Clair!”
“Yay! She promised to make pizza bagels!” Milo races for the door, previous interest in my wardrobe crisis forgotten.
My friend Clair sweeps in with her usual warm energy, a canvas bag of craft supplies swinging from one arm. “Go on, get ready,” she says, shooing me toward my room. “We’ve got this covered, right, Milo?”
“Right! And Mama?” His serious face appears in my doorway. “Mr. Sebastian likes green. He told us at storytime when we read about the chameleon.”
My hands freeze over the green sweater dress I’d dismissed earlier. Of course, my son would remember that detail.
Twenty minutes later, I’m walking into The Lucky Goat Farm to Table Restaurant wearing said green dress, trying not to smooth it over my hips for the tenth time. Sebastian’s already there, his massive frame making the vintage chair look positively delicate.
He stands when he sees me, and for a moment our eyes lock. The intensity in his gaze makes my stomach flip before he knocks his water glass over in the process. A blush creeps up his neck, and I find myself charmed by how someone so imposing can be so endearingly awkward.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t… the chair… you look…” His snakes writhe in apparent embarrassment as he tries to mop up the spill with tiny cocktail napkins.
“Here.” Grabbing my own napkin, I help contain the flood. “Though really, you’re doing me a favor by breaking the ice. I was worried I’d be the first one to spill something.”
His laugh comes out strangled, but it’s a start. We settle into an awkward silence as the waiter brings menus and a fresh water glass.
The candlelight flickers across his features, softening them. Each time our eyes meet over the menus, my pulse does a funny littleskip. His snakes, wearing crisp red bow ties, seem determined to behave, arranging themselves in an elegant pattern that draws my eye more than I’d like to admit.
The Lucky Goat is one of the businesses that thrived after the supernatural beings “came out” five years ago on Revelation Day. Supernatural beings tend to tip well and appreciate restaurants where staff don’t stare. Half the servers here are some variety of non-human, and the kitchen runs with the efficiency that only comes from employing a few time-manipulation pixies during rush hours.
“So,” I venture, lowering my menu slightly, “when you’re not rescuing banned library patrons or fending off matchmaking neighbors, what does Sebastian Fangborn do for fun?”
His smile emerges, transforming his entire face. “I read, obviously. Hazard of the profession.” Oh, that nonchalant shrug! Those self-deprecating shoulders look sooo good with his eager snakes bobbing above them.
“Let me guess—scholarly tomes about library science?” I tease.
“Actually…” His snakes shift in what appears to be embarrassment. “I have a weakness for fantasy novels. The more dragons, the better.”
“Really?” I lean forward, genuinely surprised. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Something about worlds where magic is normal.” His voice drops lower, more intimate, which makes all my lady bits sit up and take notice. “Where being different isn’t something to hide.”
The vulnerability of his admission catches me off guard. I find myself sharing in return. “I read romance novels. The happy-ever-after kind that everyone makes fun of.”
“No judgment here,” he says, his eyes warming. “We all need to believe in possibilities.”
“Even impossible ones?” The question slips out before I can catch it.
His gaze holds mine steadily. “Especially those.”
Something shifts between us, the air suddenly feeling charged. My fingers tremble slightly as I reach for my water glass, and Sebastian notices.
“Cold?” he asks, concern evident.
“No, I…” How do I explain that his presence affects me physically? That something about his gentle attentiveness makes my nervous system misfire in the best possible way?
“The carbonara looks good,” he offers, then immediately knocks his fork off the table as he reaches for it. When we both bend to retrieve it, our heads nearly bump. His snakes shift back just in time, one accidentally brushing my cheek in a touch so soft I might have imagined it.
