“You mean like crushing on a daemon prince?”
A groan poured out of me, and I shut my eyes. “Why did it have to be him?”
“The hair.” He smoothed a hand over his curls. “I blame myself.” He struck a pose. “I gave you unrealistic expectations. I was too fabulous. It clearly sank into your tender, young mind and forced a bar to be set that only Asa’s flowing locks have reached thus far. He’s the only guy I know who spends as much time in front of a mirror as me. Obviously, you find men who take care with their appearance attractive.”
“Why does it have to be so complicated?”
“Good hair doesn’t just happen…” His lecture on product, which I had heard before, stalled. “Oh.” He sat upright. “You mean Ace.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I notice you’re not in there, hand-holding.”
“He was in my room when I woke, back home.” I picked at the covers. “How long did he wait for me?”
“The whole time you were out,” he admitted. “He knitted, mostly, but he read the grimoire too.”
“Do you think he expects me to return the favor?”
“He wouldn’t take it personally if you didn’t.” He grunted as he stood. “There’s no rush, Rue. Take all the time you need to be sure. He would rather you come to him when you’re ready than out of obligation.”
“Thanks.” I stared at the ceiling. “I’m going to check in with the girls, see how the shop is coming along.”
“You do that.” He paused on the threshold. “I’ll keep an eye on Ace.”
“Thanks.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Again.”
With a nod, Clay shut the door behind him and set off down the hall.
Phone in hand, I texted Arden rather than call on the slight chance she might be sleeping. Most times, she and Camber spent their off days together, on a couch, watching horror flicks that lulled me to sleep.
>How are you? How is Camber? How’s the shop?
>>Okay. Hungry. Good.
>Are you two not eating while I’m gone?
>>Unlike some people, we don’t have boyfriends who send us mountains of daily cupcakes.
>He’s not my boyfriend.
And he was lying in his bed, across the hall, recovering from gunshot wounds.
Alone.
>>It’s okay to care about a guy, Rue. They’re not all dick weasels.
>I don’t know what a dick weasel is, and I’m not going to ask. You can’t make me.
>>Camber is sleeping over, which is how I know she’s hungry. Her stomach is growling. We’re watching a Leprechaun marathon. Can you believe someone thought making eight of those was a good idea?
>Order pizza on the shop card.
>>For real?
>No, for fake. What do you think?
>>Thank you!
>I would tell you not to stay up all night, but you pretty much have, so don’t stay up all day too.
>>What good are off days if you sleep through them?