Not Her Gargoyle Page 12

  She chuckled. “Yes, and it’s all mine.” She squirmed out from under him and patted his ass with an appreciative noise. “You’re going to be late.” Then she closed herself behind the bedroom door.

  Taking deep breaths, he fought for control. That woman would be the death of him. They’d gone through so much trouble for him to gain this job. He couldn’t throw it away for a few moments—hours—of pleasure. No matter how tempting.

  Nick adjusted the crotch of his pants to allow his hard cock some circulation and left before he changed his mind. Living a straight life was different. It had its own problems like keeping a schedule and a good appearance. As he marched off to the coffee shop, he pictured himself making breakfast for Ruby every morning.

  Routine and structure were strangers to both of them. Something the average person took for granted. He’d spent his whole life in chaos. Con after con, never really knowing where he would be living in a few weeks. One day rich, the next poor. It was exciting. From what he had gleaned from Ruby’s story, she’d led the same kind of life. Without wings.

  Breathless, Ruby leaned against the bedroom door and listened as Nick left the apartment. What was happening? The ache between her legs didn’t subside. Better yet, what hadn’t just happened? She glanced down at her half naked form. Well, what had she expected, jumping out in lingerie?

  Nick had seemed to double in size as he had stormed toward her. She hadn’t felt afraid though. Even when he had pinned her to the wall, deep down inside, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Ever. Hell, he’d made her breakfast. If that gargoyle thought he would ever escape her clutches, he was sorely mistaken. She touched her damp panties at the memory and groaned. There was no time for that.

  Ruby hadn’t thought twice about what she was wearing. He had been leaving the apartment and she’d needed to be sure of the time she was supposed to distract Seymour. It was all Nick had told her of his plan. Saying if she knew more, she might not act genuine, and tip her landlord’s already suspicious nature.

  The gargoyle had so little faith in her. She had been conning and stealing and…whatever else she’d needed to do to feed her and Trixie for as long as she could remember. Ruby still remembered the day she’d turned eighteen and was legally allowed to sign a real apartment lease. It felt like yesterday. Obtaining this apartment had been her proudest moment.

  That was sad.

  Why was she staying here? Why was she still fighting to keep it? Trixie was on her own now and doing better than Ruby. There was no reason not to move on.

  It was going to be a long day.

  She pulled on her skinny jeans and a dark green, form fitting blouse. Not too sleazy, but enough to give men pause. Hopefully she’d make enough tips to buy Nick supper.

  Ruby rode the city bus to her destination and got off at Cathedral Park. Peter’s coffee shop was across the street. He’d said he was training a new barista and it would be helpful if he taught both of them at the same time. She had once joked with Betty, Trixie’s best friend, that she wanted to be a barista, and here she was.

  Inside the coffee shop, a line of women waited to be served at the counter. Well, shit. Looked like she wouldn’t be making any tips today. A familiar man handed a customer her drink. A wicked smile on his handsome face. The kind that promised all sorts of naughty things.

  Nick.

  She never had asked him about his new job. Her pity party of one had consumed her attention lately. Gaze wandering back to the line, Ruby noted all the women watched him and no one seemed in any hurry to leave. She ground her teeth and resisted the urge to grab the sharpie on the counter and scrawl mine on his forehead.

  “Ruby.” Peter waved from the other side of the coffee shop.

  She wove her way through the crowd. “Morning, boss. Reporting for duty.”

  He took a quick glance at her blouse. At least someone would appreciate her outfit. “Once the renovations are done at the diner, I plan to have the coffee bar fully functional.”

  “Renovations?”

  “Yeah, I just received the permits this morning. I’m anxious to complete the project as soon as possible, so you need training. Linda will come in a few days, then Suzy Q. Let me introduce you to my other new employee.”

  Ruby chewed her bottom lip as she followed him behind the counter.

  Nick wiped his hands on a dishcloth as he turned toward them. His jaw dropped.

  Peter didn’t seem to notice. “Ruby, this is Nick. Nick, Ruby is from the diner I just purchased. I’m going to combine both diner and coffee shop together. She’s going to be training with you.”

  She winked at the silent gargoyle. “So, you’re the reason for the small riot of women.” She nodded to the line.

  Peter laughed. “He’s a crowd pleaser.” He slapped Nick on the shoulder. “Show her what you can until the crowd thins. Nancy”—he nodded to the woman manning the cappuccino machine—“will show you the ropes with the equipment and recipes.”

  Ruby shook Nick’s hand. “You seem familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” Her grin grew bigger as he remained speechless and turned to take the next customer’s order.

  Paying attention to Nancy’s instructions was near impossible with Ruby present. Nick managed to burn himself twice while steaming milk and confused three orders.

  Nancy patted him on the shoulder. “I know she’s cute but get your shit together. Why don’t you take a break?”

  He nodded, poured himself a cup of coffee then took possession of the small table on the far side of the wall, considering all the possibilities of why Ruby was pretending not to know him. His best guess was working with a boyfriend was frowned upon, and she didn’t want to jeopardize their jobs.

  Ruby carried a drink over to a businessman sitting nearby. They chatted and she threw back her head with a laugh. He pulled out his wallet and handed her a business card.

  The cup in his hand cracked. Shit. He drained it before the contents slowly leaked out. Scalding liquid flowed down his throat and filled his empty stomach, which growled in protest.

  Ruby spotted him and sauntered over, stuffing the fucking card in her bra. “You would think this place is a pick-up bar instead of a coffee shop.”

  Nick narrowed his gaze, ignoring his heartburn. “Will you call him?”

  She tilted her head with a coy smile. “Why would I when I have the perfect boyfriend at home? Are you jealous?”

  He harrumphed as his chest swelled. The heat burned his cheeks. “You know I am.” Gargoyles didn’t blush. He touched his face. That was an odd sensation. What would sex in this form be like?

  She set her hands on her hips. “I wouldn’t talk.” She pointed to a group of young girls watching him from outside as they sipped their drinks.

  “It’s only my second day here.”

  “Word spreads fast in this part of the city. Just to let you know, bosses tend not to like you sleeping with their clientele.” She leaned in closer her smile fading. “Neither do girlfriends.”

  “What about sleeping with coworkers?” he whispered.

  “I’m not sure on Peter’s policy so let’s play it cool until we know.”

  “Not a problem.” Nick rose from the table. “I can be cool as a cucumber.” And brushed past her as if she were a shrub instead of the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Peter released Ruby from her barista training at three, which was when her regular shift at the diner would have finished. Nick stayed behind to chat with her—their—shifter boss and meet his brother. How had this happened? She and Nick had played at not knowing each other all day. However, Peter would eventually figure out they lived together. Hiding the truth was a reflex. Maybe their boss wouldn’t care that they were a couple who kissed. And, if she had it her way, that benefit package would expand.

  They were trying to go straight. Be normal people—well, after they conned her landlord out of rent. Ruby sighed. Maybe being honest wasn’t possible for them? She glanced o
ver her shoulder through the bus window, back at the coffee shop. There was no way she was walking home in these heels.

  Even though this was Nick’s plan, he couldn’t risk being seen by Seymour. It would give everything away if he recognized Nick later, and since the gargoyle was living in her apartment, the chances were high her landlord would run into Nick’s human form at some point in the future. According to Nick, if the plan worked, Seymour shouldn’t suspect them of any foul play. If it didn’t, they’d be packing their bags and moving in with the fox shifters.

  She spent the next couple of hours calming the butterflies in her stomach while waiting for Seymour to come home from his day job. She even changed her outfit just to stay busy. Most of her experience with cons had been small time stuff. Like the Good Samaritan, where Ruby would swipe someone’s wallet and run, then Trixie, as an innocent bystander, would chase her down for the stolen goods. Ruby would miraculously escape, of course. If Trixie used her sad puppy dog eyes, she’d usually get a reward from their mark when she graciously returned the wallet.

  Ruby suspected this would be more complicated. Nick called it a modified Fiddle Game. She was the bait since they needed Seymour at a specific time and place. That was all the details Nick would give her since he had two other people in on the con. They needed her to be the innocent bystander.

  Nothing about Ruby was innocent. Not for a long time. It made her nervous.

  At the appointed time, she sat on the bench in front of the liquor store and, like clockwork, watched Seymour approach. Every day after his shift at the metal work factory, he would buy himself a bottle. “Hi, Seymour.” She leaned forward, squishing the girls together to slow his pace and stop.

  It worked like a charm. Always did. “What are you doing here?” He scanned the sidewalk as if expecting ninjas to jump out.

  She held up a half-empty bottle of bourbon. “Thinking.” She pretended to take a swig.

  When nobody accosted Seymour from the shadows, he returned his attention on her. “About what?” He leaned forward as if trying to meet her gaze, but he kept glancing at her low-cut blouse instead.

  A tall man sauntered past them, a pair of drumsticks sticking out of his low-slung jeans back pocket. He waited at the bus stop within earshot.

  “Taking you up on that deal.” She purposefully slurred her words.

  Seymour settled his large bulk onto the bench next to her. “Really?” Sounding pleased. He rested his arm behind her and leaned closer. The scent of-day-old sweat mixed with cheap cologne enveloped her. “Tonight, I hope.”

  She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and clutched her bourbon bottle harder. The anxiety was real because if Seymour didn’t fall for whatever Nick had organized, then she just might have to follow through with what she’d promised. Ruby nodded, not trusting her voice.

  His grin was full of yellow teeth. “Let me just get another bottle for us.” He tapped the one she was holding.

  Across the street, she spotted Ms. O’Leary carrying, of all things, an electric guitar. She marched toward Seymour like a woman on a mission. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you. Knew I should have started here.”

  Their landlord crossed his arms and leaned back against the liquor store. “Well, you found me. Did your son send you money to pay your rent yet?”

  “That’s what I’m here about.” She held out the immaculate looking guitar that someone had signed with a sharpie marker. “This belonged to my grandson.”

  “The one who overdosed and died last year?” Seymour—AKA, Mr. Sensitive. It took all of Ruby’s willpower not to twist around and punch him in the nose.

  Mrs. O’Leary dropped her gaze and nodded. “It’s very dear to me.” She wiped away a tear.

  Ruby jumped to her feet and pulled her into a hug. “There, there.” She rubbed her back and shot Seymour a daggered look.

  “I know I still owe you rent but my son can’t send me money until next Monday. I was hoping you would take the guitar as collateral until then.”

  Seymour frowned. “Do I look like a pawn shop? That thing isn’t worth what you owe me.”

  She bit her tongue to stop the flow of acid words. The con would have to wait. Ms. O’Leary lived by herself with her little dog. She didn’t have any family in New Port. They had all moved east of here to Sea Side Bay. Ruby could barely afford to feed herself, however she had managed to organize Meals on Wheels for Ms. O’Leary over last winter. “She’s just asking for a few more days, Seymour. It’s not like she’s in any shape to skip town.”

  Ms. O’Leary’s legs chose that moment to tremble as if she were carrying a great weight.

  “Here.” Ruby guided her to the bench. “Sit down.” She noted the stranger at the bus stop staring at the guitar and gave him the stink eye, warning off any ideas of stealing it.

  Seymour took the instrument from Ms. O’Leary and gave it a cursory look. “Fine.” He sounded reluctant. Ruby suspected if she hadn’t been there to bear witness, he wouldn’t have accepted the deal. “By Monday or I’ll take it to the closest pawnshop.”

  She patted his hand. “Take good care of it. My grandson used to call it his retirement plan. Whatever that means. These kids nowadays and their strange slang.” She rose onto her weak legs.

  “Do you want me to walk you back?” Ruby asked.

  She waved her away. “I don’t need a caregiver, Ruby. You stay and get acquainted with your beau.”

  Ruby fought back a gag. The ick factor of her comment reminded her of the promise to Seymour. Shit, how was she going to talk her way out of this? She wiped her sweaty palms on her tight pencil skirt. Where was Nick and his fucking con?

  The stranger at the bus stop approached them. He pointed to the guitar. “Can I take a closer look at that, man?”

  Seymour clutched it to his chest. “Get the fuck away from me.” That was their neighborhood motto. A person wouldn’t find block parties or community picnics in this part of town. They were more of a riot squad or murder scene kind of crowd. When her neighbors saw yellow police tape, they pulled out the popcorn and unfolded the lawn chairs.

  The stranger raised his hands in the air. “Dude, I recognize that jam.” He pointed to the symbol on the back of the guitar, then gasped. “Is that a motherfucking signature?” He bounced on his feet.

  Seymour stared at the instrument in his hands with renewed interest. “What about it?”

  “Uh…” He gave Seymour the side eye. “It’s cool.” The guy pulled a pen out of his pocket and tore a flyer off the side of the liquor store, then wrote a phone number. “Give this to the old lady and tell her I’m interested in buying it.” He jerked the paper away from Seymour’s outstretched hand and handed it to Ruby. “Maybe it will cover the money she owes you.”

  The stranger’s bus arrived and he looked torn.

  Ruby held up his phone number. “Don’t worry I’ll go tell her right away.” And escape Seymour in the process. She hadn’t accepted his offer of paying him tonight yet.

  The stranger grinned and hurried onto the bus.

  As soon as the vehicle pulled away, Seymour grabbed the slip of paper out of Ruby’s hand. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about this guitar, Ruby. I’ll tell Ms.O’Leary. About tonight… I’ll have to take a rain check.” He turned his back on her and returned to their apartment building without even buying his liquor.

  Ruby blinked at his retreating back. She was saved. For now. There was no way she was sleeping with Seymour. She would just have to tell Nick that they had failed, and start hunting for an abandoned building.

  How was she going to hide being homeless from her sister?

  She glanced at the half empty bottle of bourbon, wishing she hadn’t poured the other half into the sewer. She suspected she would need a few stiff drinks to get through the night.

  Nick, in gargoyle form, was waiting for her in their apartment. She hadn’t seen him on the street while she’d waited for Seymour. He must have arrived by wing and climb
ed through the window.

  She sighed and leaned against him, resting her forehead on his bare, wonderfully broad chest.

  He curled his arms and wings around her. “What’s wrong?”

  Before she could answer, the bathroom door opened and the stranger at the bus stop strolled out. He wore a chain around his neck and held the charm in his hand while examining it. “How can you stand wearing this all day? I feel like I’m stuffed in a shoebox.” He glanced up and noticed her presence. “Ruby, how can you get mixed up with somebody like my brother?” He removed the charm and changed form in front of her eyes. His clothes tore as he doubled in size. One wing ripped through the back of his shirt and the other remained awkwardly folded inside. “Ow,ow. You should have reminded me about the clothes.” He glared at Nick.

  “And miss this?” Nick laughed as he helped untangle his brother from the body sized Chinese finger trap of the gargoyle’s own making.

  “You’re part of the con?” She pressed her hand to her lips, hiding her amusement as the two gargoyles struggled with the jean’s button fly. She hadn’t even known they made those anymore.

  “This is my brother, Norm,” Nick said, his hands on his hips. He stared at his brother’s crotch. “I think you’re trapped in those forever.”

  Norm grabbed the waistband and with a roar ripped them open.

  “Whoa.” Nick unfurled a wing, blocking her view of his brother. “Where are your shorts?”

  Norm chuckled and hurried to Nick’s bedroom.

  He twisted to face her. “My brother met me at the coffee shop after work. That’s where we exchanged the charm. We needed somebody that Seymour wouldn’t recognize as our expert musician.”

  A knock at the door interrupted Nick.

  Ruby jumped. What if that was Seymour changing his mind about tonight? She clutched her hands to her chest, refusing to move.

  Nick placed the charm around his neck and clutched his shorts to his hips before answering.