Beka didn’t even care that her dragon was laughing at her, that’s how good a mood she was in.
“I’m fine,” she said, pushing him out of the way so she could go inside. “I just had a really nice afternoon, that’s all. It was a lot of fun watching Marcus teach Tito the basics of surfing. He’s great.” She plopped on the couch, noticing in passing that Chewie had actually put away all her magical supplies. It truly was a red-letter day.
“Who’s great?” Chewie asked slyly. “Marcus or Tito?”
Beka sat up straight. “Tito. I meant Tito, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Although it turns out that Marcus maybe isn’t quite as big a pain in the ass as I thought he was.” Beka fiddled with a blue-green cushion embroidered with bright orange fish. “He was really patient with Tito today.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And he kind of asked me to go into Santa Carmelita with him tomorrow night for some barbeque thing they have on the beach,” Beka added in what she hoped was a convincingly casual tone. “Some old friends of his asked him to come, and he’s apparently not too comfortable with the fireworks they’re having later in the evening and thought he’d do better if he had someone to, uh, hold his hand. Metaphorically speaking.”
“Right,” Chewie said dryly. “Metaphorical hand holding. You should be good at that. As long as there’s no actual hand holding.” He snorted, tiny flames shooting out to singe the edge of the couch. Beka extinguished the flames and repaired the damage without even thinking about it, since such things were a common occurrence when one lived with a dog who was mostly dragon.
“I think he has a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder, even though he would never admit it,” Beka explained. “Mister tough guy. But obviously he can sense my Baba nature, and realizes subconsciously that I can help him to stay more in control.” She could feel that silly grin still flitting in and out of existence like sunspots during a flare; trying to keep it off her face was as impossible as catching a rainbow. Hopefully Chewie wouldn’t notice.
Fat chance.
“Maybe he senses your great boobs and fabulous legs too,” Chewie said, leering at her.
“Oh, shut up,” Beka said. Fat chance of that too.
Chewie gave her a long, considering look. “Oh, oh,” he said.
“What?” Beka looked over her shoulder, wondering if something had somehow snuck through the hut-bus’s defenses. She had been neglecting her protective magics lately, what with everything else that had been going on.
“I don’t believe it,” Chewie said. “You’re in love with him.”
That wiped the grin off her face. “I’m what? Don’t be absurd.”
“You are,” the dragon insisted. “You’ve finally fallen in love. It’s about damned time.”
“Have you been chewing on my salvia plant again?” Beka asked. “Because I think you’re having hallucinations.”
“You wish,” Chewie said. “I saw you—you were dancing. It’s a classic symptom. You’re in love.”
“I can’t be,” Beka said in a whisper. “He’s a Human. A Human who dislikes everything I stand for.”
Chewie shrugged, knocking over a chair in the process. “Better him than that damned Selkie prince. And hey, you never know. It worked out for Barbara. She and her sheriff have settled down together and she’s happily training little Babs to be a Baba Yaga. If it can happen to her, why not you?”
Because I’m no Barbara, Beka thought. And Liam might have learned to deal with the fact that the woman he loved was a powerful witch straight out of Russian fairy tales, but somehow, she couldn’t imagine Marcus dealing with her special brand of weirdness nearly that well.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “You’re wrong. I’m not in love with Marcus. I’m not in love with anyone. I was just in a good mood. Which you have now ruined, thank you very much.”
She stalked over to the refrigerator and glared at it until it offered up a nicely chilled bottle of sauvignon blanc. Then she pulled a couple of her favorite knives down off the wall and proceeded to sharpen them until they practically glowed.
Chewie very wisely made himself scarce.
*
IF MARCUS HAD been wearing socks, they definitely would have been knocked off. As it was, his toes curled in their sturdy sandals, and he had to fight the impulse to stand up even straighter and salute.
Beka looked amazing.