“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve talked about guts tonight. And zombies haven’t once come into the conversation. I’m calling a gut armistice, at least for tonight.”
Soren smiled at the ground, waiting until the last person had climbed off before leading me in the subway car. The subway pulled away from the platform, and I found my head lolling into Soren as sleep deprivation caught up to me, now that I wasn’t moving. His arm tucked around me so I could rest my head on his shoulder. I felt his head turn toward me, his breath warming the top of my head.
“Yes.”
My eyelids fluttered but couldn’t open. “Yes what?” I said with a yawn. “Yes to the party?”
His head bobbed beside mine as his hand curled around my arm. “Yes to that, and yes to anything else you ever need from me.”
“You know what a tux is, right? Suit, jacket, bow tie?” I rambled from behind my partition as I shimmied and stretched into the gown I’d borrowed from the sample collection at the agency.
“What? The dude at the tux rental shop told me it was a speedo, top hat, and bow tie. Damn.” Soren grunted from behind his own partition. “Think anyone will notice?”
My eyes closed. With Soren, I wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious about something like that.
“Before you go searching for the sharpest heel you have in your arsenal to lob my way, let me throw out a quick ‘just messing with ya.’”
The sound of a zipper came from his side of the room. Which had a direct effect on the rate of my heartbeat. Which sucked for me, since my secret crush was under the impression I was the kid sister he never had.
“You got a black one, right?” I asked after I’d finished wrestling the long gown into place.
“Oops. Thought you said blush.”
“Soren,” I groaned, reaching for my bottle of ibuprofen. I was already stressed about tonight without his relentless quest to annoy me.
“Of course I got black. I reined my mom into tux-shopping duty with me. She’s got great taste and wouldn’t steer me wrong.”
“You took your mom with you?” I reached for the earrings I’d picked out to match the champagne-colored gown.
“There was no way I was taking lead on tux selection. She had the day free, so she offered to come into the city to help me pick something out.”
“That was nice of her.”
“Please. Any of her sons calls up and mentions tux and girl in the same sentence, and Mom would rip the cape off Superman’s back to get here lightning quick.”
“Someone excited to get four sons married off?” I asked, slipping into the T-strap heels I’d picked for tonight.
“Someone’s excited to have grandchildren. And another woman around to help even the balance.”
From the sounds of it, he was pulling on his dress shirt. Soren made a lot of noise dressing. In fact, I never knew dressing or undressing could create so much noise until I’d moved in with him.
And no, the logic that perhaps the noise level might have been attributed to how keyed in I was to his every movement was not lost on me.
“Did she know you were going out with me tonight?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded more innocent than my face looked.
“Yeah, I told her.”
“And was she still just as eager to help you pick out that tux?” My eyes clamped shut when I replayed my question to myself. Hello, Fishing For Information. Now scoot along before he figures it out.
“Well, I didn’t tell her until she’d already met me at the tux shop, so I’m not sure how to answer that.” From his voice, I could tell his face was pulled up with mild confusion. “She did say to tell you hello though, and extend an invite to their place next weekend for my brother Ben’s birthday. She makes a huge meal. We do demonstrations trying to prove who’s manlier, which usually results in some kind of verbal or physical brawl, after which Mom bribes us with more food for good behavior. That type of thing.”
I chuckled as I finished strapping on my shoes. “Sounds like a lot of testosterone.”
“That’s why Mom could really use a little extra estrogen on her side. Take your time. Think about it. I can come up with some good excuse if you don’t want to come.” The sound of his arms sliding into a jacket followed. He was almost ready. Good timing, since so was I.
“Sure. I’ve got the weekend off as of right now, though that could change in five seconds. I’d love to come meet the saint who put up with you for eighteen years.”
“Please. I’m the angel of the bunch.”
“And those two horns sprouting out of your head are there because . . .?”
“To hold up my halo. Obviously.”
Another laugh as I took a moment to check my reflection in the stand-up mirror. I had it balanced against the partition, so the image was a little distorted, but for doing my own hair and makeup, along with picking out the outfit all by myself, I’d done a pretty damn fine job.
Except for . . .
Reaching behind me, I tugged at the corseting crossing down the back. I needed it tighter or I was going to flash someone at the party tonight, guaranteed. Downside to not having much real estate in the chest department to keep a dress in place.
“Can you give me a hand with my dress?” I asked, giving up. There was no way I was going to be able to contort my arms enough to get the corseting tight enough. Moving out from behind the partition, I pulled the dress up a little higher in the front. “I can get your bow tie for you in exchange for your assistance.”
“I can give you two hands”—Soren emerged from his partition, buttoning his arm sleeves—“but I got the bow tie whipped into submission already. I think.” He glanced down at it, double-checking, before realizing I was in front of him. He stopped moving mid-step. “Jesus Christ.” He blinked a couple of times, staring at me. His hand was still frozen where it had been buttoning his sleeve.
My head tipped. “Jesus Christ . . .?”
Soren gave one more dramatic blink before blowing out an uneven breath. “Jesus Christ, I’m glad the rumor on the street is that he went and died for humanity’s sins because I just committed about fifty-four in my head right now.”
My lips pressed together to keep the illusion of a stern face. “Fifty-four?”
Soren’s gaze swept down and around me. “Fifty-five.”
“What sin is fifty-five?”
Soren gave a crooked smile. “That’s for the priest’s ears, not an innocent lamb’s like yours.”
Innocent. Was that what he thought I was? Was that how he viewed me? He wasn’t looking at me like he was thinking innocent thoughts, that was for sure. I sure as heck wasn’t thinking innocent thoughts about him either.
“You look insanely pretty, Hayden. Like, so insane, I’m an idiot for even trying to tell you how pretty you look.” Soren rubbed his face with one hand, the other indicating at me. “And that dress . . .”
“Jesus Christ?” I suggested.