Maybe I was seeing too much of Matt.
Maybe I wasn't seeing enough of him.
I drifted around the house. He'd been everywhere, and he made everything beautiful. He made my kitchen beautiful. He made my backyard radiant. He even made our hideous gaming room funny. Now the same rooms were dark and lonely.
I checked my email as I lay in bed. I was surprised to see a story installment from Matt, sent about five minutes earlier. I checked the time. 12:50 a.m. My night owl. I smiled and snuggled down to read his paragraphs.
In the whirlwind of the last two days, I had forgotten about our story. Suddenly I couldn't wait to see Cal's response to Lana bathing. My eyes skimmed over the text.
Oh, this was good.
A familiar heat spread through me as I read.
Cal stared at Lana's naked body, making no effort to conceal his interest. "He was no gentleman," Matt wrote, "and enjoyed the luxury of knowing it."
Matt wrote without reference to the setting, which worked. Cal was oblivious to his surroundings. There was only the human bathing with her back to him. I knew things were going to get good when Cal glimpsed the rounded sides of her breasts.
Cal wasn't without complexity, though. As he undressed and approached the dark river, he considered what it would mean for himself and Lana to be together. He was a demon, after all, and she was mortal. Matt made his plight sincere—and aching.
Cal walked the world in the skin of another.
He could have Lana, but he couldn't keep her. He couldn't love her.
I projected myself shamelessly onto Lana as that dangerous creature prowled toward her and slipped into the river like a snake. He extracted the soap from her hands. He began to wash her body. The roiling undercurrent bumped them together.
Hot damn.
I texted Matt.
Nice post. Thanks.
He replied instantly.
Yw. Writing it beat lying here missing you, which I'm doing now. Goodnight little bird.
Matt was lying in bed missing me. And I was lying in bed missing Matt. Okay, we were in the same boat. Now where was this boat going?
_____
My cell woke me at 7:15 a.m.
I groped for my glasses and took the call, though I didn't recognize the number.
"H—" I coughed. Crap, morning voice. "Excuse me. Hello?"
"Hi Hannah, Pam Wing. Impressive resume. Matt neglected to mention your US-UK Fulbright. Very nice. I need you in here today."
I threw off my sheets. Pamela freaking Wing needed me today. I was not about to go starry eyed and speechless for the second time.
"That sounds great," I said. "I'm excited to get started. I'll be there within the hour."
"Perfect."
Click.
Within the hour. Within forty-five minutes. Maybe I should have given myself a little latitude, but I had to make up ground with Pamela Wing.
I showered and shaved in fifteen minutes and took more time with my outfit. I wanted to look professional, and I wanted to be comfortable. I wore nude nylons, a gray pencil skirt, a white blouse, and black pumps.
I forced my mind to stay on track. That meant no thinking about Matt, because thinking about Matt meant drooly daydreaming.
I flew through the doors of the Granite Wing Agency at 7:55. Score.
The building was empty. After some cautious wandering, I found my way to Pamela Wing's office. Her door was open and she was seated at her desk, flipping through a sheaf of papers and frowning. She didn't look up when I knocked.
"Not quite within the hour, Hannah, but close enough."