Page 84 of Seduced By the Mermen
“We’re not done,” Kade says.
“You were done before you started,” Sterling replies. “Are you ready to go?” His gray eyes glare down at me.
“No,” I say. Though I really am. I was ready to go before I got here.
“Again, Mason, back off or I’ll have to talk to the king about your interference.”
I give an inward sigh. I need to try instead of just go through the motions. I need to see if there’s any spark. “Spark.”
“Spark?” Severn asks.
“Oh, right.” Did I say that out loud? “It’s nothing.”
Sterling’s eyes burn into the side of my head, the kind of stare that makes my head turn to his from the magnetic pull. There’s a smirk on his lips. Which... I don’t get it. I would have thought he’d want this date to go well. He hasn’t told me he’s not interested in me. But he’s certainly shown some interest.
He cocks an eyebrow at me. Questioning—what? Should we leave? Is he the reason I’m feeling off around the Driftwood pod? Or is that me?
I push my glasses up my nose and square my shoulders. “I think you should wait outside the shop, Sterling.” I don’t have to have any loyalty to him. I haven’t promised him anything, and being the good girl has never gotten me anything but more trouble.
“Think?” He glares.
I give myself a kick in my confidence. “I want you to wait outside.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, over my dark graytunic. One Ophelia had delivered especially for my date with the Driftwood pod.
I turn back to Hale and Severn, a polite smile on my face as Sterling steps toward the entrance. I don’t think they understood my slip. Though Sterling clearly understood the meaning of the word spark. “What’s the difference between a bodyguard and an agent of the king?”
Kade turns to me. “Nothing.”
Torin, though, shakes his head. “An agent of the king can kill with no consequences.”
My throat is suddenly very dry. “Oh... How about we get some tea?”
Chapter 34
Clark
“He’s not here,” Delmar says, standing in my office doorway.
“I can see that.” I don’t look up from my sketch. The Tinom have narrowed the bids for their new design down to two. Hershaw and me. He’s the one who designed the swirl of a sea slug’s slime that is the new kindergarten dome for Permula. It’s pink and black and twists up from the base like frosting on a podlet’s cake. Fun, they call it—inventive, a new wave of ingenuity. It’s a blue whale carcass filled with rotten shrimp shells. Hershaw isn’t a visionary; he’s a hack. Coming up with new gimmicks. What’s next, a dome in the shape of a hedge-tot for a teenage podlet center, because they like hedge-tots?
I put down my tablet pen, glare at Delmar. “He’ll be here soon.” I cock my chin at Delmar.
“I don’t know how to bake,” he says.
“I don’t either.”
“You cook. Your papa is a chef.”
“He’s a chef, not a baker. And I’m not him. But we can follow a recipe. How hard can it be?” The waves of my papa talking to my other fathers float around me.Cooking is an art; baking is chemistry.“When is she coming?”
“An hour.”
“Has Rodgers gone?”
“An hour ago. Forrest told him to go home. I was grading essays in the living room when he left.”
“We’ll figure it out. It’s not about the end product. It’s about having fun with Blair. Letting her get to know us.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”
