“What . . .” Jenks complained. “I like a woman who eats.” Wings clattering, he went to the sink to check on his kids in the garden. “None of this prissy ‘Oh, just a salad. I’m watching my waistline.’ Hot dogs and milkshakes, baby! Give you energy for more important stuff.”
I shot Jenks a look to shut up before he could enumerate, and when he took a deep breath, I threw the dishcloth at him. Trent looked up at the noise, and I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “What looks good?” I said, trying for nonchalant as I went to stand at the fridge beside him. His stubble was reddish blond. Cool.
Trent’s eyes met mine, and suddenly unsure, I backed up, deciding to get some coffee. From the counter, the radio was running a list of closings. There were a lot, from social events to entire businesses. “I was thinking about French toast, but it has eggs in it,” Trent said, and I poured myself a cup of long-brewed coffee.
“Most days I can handle that much without a problem.” I leaned against the counter, a safe five feet between us. The mug was warm, and the coffee tasted as good as it smelled. I let a swallow slip down, waking me up. It was a good day, bright and sunny. It didn’t jibe with the serious tone of the announcer talking about the riots at the closed borders, and I wondered if Trent might go running with me sometime. He had the build for it. Then I frowned. Why would he want to go running with me? He had an entire private woods to run in where he wouldn’t have to dodge strollers or dog crap.
“Good coffee,” I said, and he came out of the fridge with a carton of eggs and milk.
“Jenks said you liked it dark,” he said, and then my head snapped up as Edden’s voice came over the radio.
“Hey, listen!” I said as I reached for the knob, and Jenks got over his dishcloth-induced sulk, coming to sit on my shoulder as we stared at the radio as if it were a TV.
“Let me say again,” Edden’s smooth voice said over the click of cameras. “The rumor that Cincinnati and the Hollows are closed due to a biological threat is false. After expert analysis of data gained last night, we can definitively say that the magic misfires and the inability of the undead to wake is not biological, but a calculated attack on the undead by a fringe organization called the Free Vampires. Outside help is being obtained, but until we resolve this, Cincinnati and the Hollows will remain locked down with no entry or exit. We don’t want those responsible for this getting out of our jurisdiction.”
The reporters shouted questions, and I looked at Trent, knowing Inderlanders would respond badly to being fenced in no matter what the reason.
“Listen to me!” Edden shouted, and they all shut up. “I know this isn’t popular, but we are confident that the people responsible are still in Cincinnati or the Hollows. I’m asking everyone to calm down and be cooperative, and for God’s sake, don’t go targeting your neighbors because they have fangs. We’ve got a hotline set up if you think you have something we need to know, and I’m confident—”
I turned the radio off, arms around my middle. And the day had started so nice, too. “Edden told them,” I said, surprised. “They must be out of leads.”
“Either that or they were worried about a panic that a new virus was killing the undead. You know how sensitive everyone is about that.” Catching back a snort, I nodded. He was looking at my bare feet, and I tried to hide one under the other. “It was Bancroft’s idea to break the news,” he said as his gaze rose to my spelling pots hanging over the center island counter. “I phoned the data to him last night. He says thank you.”
Bancroft? My suspicion rose. “Always glad to help,” I said, watching how Trent’s hand entirely encompassed the bottom of my smallest spelling pot as he gently lifted it free of the hook, but my notion to tell him not to cook with it slipped away as I remembered seeing him last year, wet from the shower, a towel around his hips and his hair clinging to his face. His abs had been beautiful, his waist trim, and his skin taut as he moved. “And?” I said, hiding behind my cup.
“Moving you to the ever-after won’t solve anything.”
“Oh, thank all that is holy,” I said, slumping. “Ah, not that I wouldn’t have.”
He smiled, and I slid to the side so he could throw the shells away. Jenks was using both hands to work the twist tie on the bread bag, and I belatedly got a plate down, feeling like a fifth wheel.
“Thanks,” Trent said. “I hope you don’t mind me using your exercise bike. I needed to stretch out after last night. I’ve not ridden like that in a long time.”
I dropped my eyes before they caught his. His mood was pinging on my subconscious. Something was on his mind other than breakfast. I had a feeling I knew what it was, and I didn’t want to talk about it. “You used Ivy’s machine? It’s a good one, isn’t it.”
From the sink Jenks’s wings hummed in discontent. His kids must be up to mischief. “Hey, I owe you, cookie man,” Jenks said as Trent found a fork to beat the eggs with. “It would have taken me all summer to move those rocks.”
“I said I’d help you with that,” I said, and Jenks’s dust shifted to an annoyed orange.
“Like I said, all summer,” he said to make me feel guilty. Trent, though, was all smiles.
“My pleasure. I don’t count us even, yet. Moving rocks isn’t payment enough for your help last year.”
Stealing his daughter, I thought, wondering if it had really only been a year. “Can I help with anything?” I asked, needing something to do so I’d stop thinking about stuff.
“No, I’ve got it,” he said as he took a pan from under the counter and set it on the stove.
“I’m not used to people making me breakfast,” I said as I sat at the table. Jenks was watching me as if I was doing something wrong, and I made a what? face, switching back to a bland smile when Trent came up from eyeing the flame under the pan.
“I hope you don’t mind I just hung out here this morning. Ivy wasn’t back yet and you were sleeping. I didn’t want to simply leave.” He touched the inside of the pan once, then again, clearly dissatisfied with the temp. “I like your church. It’s quiet, but in a good way. Not lonely.”
Jenks frowned at me, and I had no idea why. “Excuse me,” he said, his tone almost caustic as he flew out the kitchen.
Whatever. “Thanks,” I said as Trent crossed his arms and stifled a yawn. It was nearing noon. Time for all good pixies and elves to siesta. I wasn’t all that rested myself. Sleep had been hard to find, and fleeting. There was an unfamiliar laptop and a mug of coffee beside me, and I glanced at Ivy’s spot at the table. The laptop was shiny enough to be hers, but she’d just gotten a new one. “Yours?” I asked.