Still smiling, Kal escorted her in. “This afternoon after lunch. I was scared to death you’d come out here after work and see it before our date.” His hold on her slipped away as he paced quickly to the makeshift table, his excitement infectious. “Music . . .” he said as he clicked the radio on, then winced as “I Got You Babe” drifted out. He straightened, clearly not happy as he turned to her. “Sorry. I can only get one station.”
She came in a few steps, gingerly sitting down on the white-and-red-checkered cloth covering a bale of straw. “That’s okay. I like Sonny and Cher,” she said as she put her purse down. It didn’t seem possible that she’d been here less than twenty-four hours ago summoning a demon, and she breathed deeply, testing the air for any sign of burnt amber. There was none, and her shoulders eased. Her trickery was hidden. Daniel was safe. So why do I feel so crappy?
“Ambiance . . .” Kal murmured, and Trisk jumped, startled when he flicked a tiny, aura-coated bit of energy at the dark lantern and it ignited with a whoosh.
“Impressive,” she said, smiling at his obvious satisfaction. “I didn’t know you could do anything other than break chandeliers and give bad luck to nasty, ornery witches.”
Chuckling, he shot her a glance from under a lowered brow as he moved the radio to the edge of the straw table and flipped the lid up on the cooler. “You might be surprised what I can do,” he said softly, almost a challenge as he lifted a mold of yellow gelatin from inside the box. “We have music,” he said as he set it square in the middle of the makeshift table. “Jell-O with fruit . . .” He looked up at her, the question at the back of his eyes confusing her. “Would you like white wine or cognac? I brought both.”
“Wine is fine,” she said, still feeling the effects of the glass of red she’d had with dinner. The moon was low in the sky, visible through the open barn door. Not quite full, it was still beautiful, and her mood softened. Quen loves a full moon.
“White wine it is.” Kal opened it with a pop, setting it aside as he produced two blue-and-white plates and silverware.
“I’ll do it,” she offered when he hesitated, probably never having served anything in his life, but he took up the serving spoon before she could reach it.
“My party,” he quipped, and she sat back, the straw crackling under her as she put her elbows on her knees and felt useless. Her hair drifted forward around her face, and she brushed it back, not embarrassed about its color, but maybe . . . trying to diminish its presence.
The silence stretched, broken by the sudden clinks of the silverware as Kal fought the jiggling concoction. Her feet still hurt, and she ran a finger between her boot and leg. She was loath to risk Kal seeing her demon mark on the underside of her foot, but the raised welt in the shape of a circle with a line running through it was only the size of a quarter. She hadn’t thought the demon would be so circumspect, but it still bothered her. “Do you mind if I take my boots off? My feet are killing me,” she asked, and he looked up, his ears a faint pink of embarrassment at his inept attempts to serve the Jell-O.
“Go ahead,” he said, finally managing to get an untidy slice on a plate.
His lack of polish made her smile. That he was sneaking glances at her legs as she took her boots off made her feel desired. The blanket he’d put down as a rug was surprisingly soft, and she stretched her toes, distracted as Kal set a plate before her.
“It’s kind of wiggly, isn’t it,” he said as he took his suit coat off, carefully laying it aside before sitting down across from her. On the radio, the music shifted to “Mustang Sally,” and Trisk smiled at his pained expression as he stared at the crackling speaker.
“It’s fine, really,” she said when he reached to turn it off, and he sat back, things clearly not going the way he wanted them to. “Mmmm, good,” she added as she took a spoonful, finding it had indeed been made with champagne, little bubbles bursting in her mouth.
“Nothing but the best,” he said, relieved. “I love stables. The only thing that could improve this more than better music would be an actual horse in here.”
Trisk poked through the Jell-O for the fruit, wondering at the hint of wistfulness in his voice. “That’s one of the reasons I bought it,” she said, glancing over the dusty box stalls and empty tack pegs. “But I don’t get enough free time these days to have a cat, much less a horse.”
Kal reached for the wine, the shadow of his arm showing through his white shirt as he poured it out and handed her a half-full glass before dropping the bottle back into the cooler. “There’s a stable within a ten-minute drive from my house in Florida,” he hinted.
“That sounds nice,” she murmured, wondering where this was going.
“It is.” He took a sip and set his glass aside, eyes roving over the barn as if he were seeing it alive with the scents of horse and leather. “Believe it or not, some of my happiest hours were in the stables.”