Saturday Afternoon
Jason shook his head and made himself stare at his computer screen. He had work to do, and he needed to ignore that prickly feeling creeping into his subconscious.
Every cop he knew had some form of sixth sense. None would ever claim to be psychic or anything like that, but police officers and detectives listened to their guts.
And his screamed he wasn’t alone. The difference between this particular feeling and the ones he’d experienced on the force was it wasn’t threatening.
“Feel like I’m being watched again,” Jason muttered. He’d felt it off and on the last couple days. He thought he knew what it was, but hadn’t had any confirmation.
“Ava,” he said, hopefully loud enough to get her attention.
He still hadn’t completely come to terms with her being a fairy. That just opened a whole other realm of existence he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge. If there were fairies, would there be other mythical creatures?
A poof of sparkly, reddish smoke manifested, and from that, Ava appeared.
Confirmed his suspicions.
“I am impressed that you can tell when I’m here.”
“Latent cop tendency.” He didn’t look at her. He really didn’t want to.
Really.
As gorgeous as any other time he’d seen her, she framed that gorgeous today in a dark-leather bodysuit reminiscent of Marvel’s Black Widow.
Yeah, he didn’t need to be looking at her. Really, he didn’t.
Ava grabbed a chair, spun it around and straddled it. Jason had to make himself focus on his computer screen and the panels of photos he’d taken. Otherwise, he’d be staring at those legs and fighting a chubby.
Hell, he already was.
Shit.
“Is this the real you?” Jason asked, noticing that her wings were folded neatly against her back, her red hair falling over her shoulders in a tangled wavy mess that he just wanted to stick his hands in and—
Holy shit.
“Yep.” She shifted, and the leather squeaked against the chair.
Not exactly how he imagined a fairy to look. Hell, his wet dreams had nothing on that bodysuit. He tried to keep his tone light. “F-f-figured fairies would be all sparkles and glitter and shit.”
She smirked. “Most are. I’m an anomaly.” She stroked her hair out of her face. “Whatcha workin’ on?”
“Job,” Jason said.
Ava nodded. “Did you tell your client about the stripper guy?”
He smirked. “Yes, I did. She didn’t believe me. Fired me.”
“Oh geez, that sucks,” Ava said. “I’m sorry.”
Jason shrugged. “That’s the way it goes.”
Not going to look at her. No.
Work. Must work.
Ava gestured at the monitor, her fingers—and those red claw-nails—swept into his line of sight. “So what is all this you’re working on?”
Jason let out a sigh. Damn. He was going to have to look at her. “Job for Bruce.”
Ava tipped her head to the side, staring at the screen. “Who is she? And what happened to her face?”
Jason’s gut roiled, and not out of desire. The job he was trying to make himself do left a nasty taste in his mouth. “Bruce hired me to get pics of her because she never put her pictures on her social stuff. The girl has her reasons for not putting pictures on Facebook.”
“But you did it anyway,” Ava said, her tone very condescending and accusatory.
Jason didn’t like her tone, but he wasn’t sure if he didn’t like it because she directed it at him, or because he felt so shitty about doing the job. He scrolled through the pictures, seeing which ones best showed the woman. “Trying to decide…”
Ava waved her hand. “I can help you with that…” Red sparkles started swimming around the computer monitor. They danced and swirled, then slipped inside the machine.
Then the screen was blank.
“What the hell?” Jason started clicking and opening and closing the screens, trying to find the pictures.
Now his gut really was having a nauseated party, accompanied by anxiety—all flipping quickly into frustration.
“You can’t give him any if there aren’t any,” Ava said.
Jason growled. “That was fucking rude.”
She shrugged. “Fairy Godmother prerogative. I’m like a conscience and gift giver all in one.”
Jason clenched his mouse, squeezing so hard it cracked. “I know Bruce, and he’d never do anything malicious, which is the only reason I agreed to do this. Anyone else, I would have told them to fuck off.”
“So why’d you do it for him?”
“Bring them back. I don’t renege on a contract.”
“No,” Ava said, crossing her arms. “I think it’s sick and wrong of you to do it. So I won’t help you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. I’m not. It’s not right, Jason.”
“Fuck you! Get out of here,” Jason snapped. “You can’t come in here, pretend to be m-my moral compass and run my life. I-I-I release you from your job, or whatever.”
She put her hands on her hips. “It doesn’t work that way. You’re stuck with me, bub. Whether you like it or not.”
“If all you’re going to do is push your will on me, then maybe I don’t want a fucking Fairy Godmother. Maybe I just want to be by myself.”
They were nose to nose. Her breath mingled with his.
“You don’t like being called out on your shit.” Ava’s glare narrowed.
“I didn’t ask for your help!” Jason fired back.
“Too late, you’re stuck with me.”
Jason growled. Grabbed that red hair he’d been trying not to think about and jerked her against him, the back of the chair the only thing separating them as he crushed her lips against his.
She leaned into him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tight against her. He wove an arm around her back and got caught on the wings.
He let out a growl. Then he felt her wings start whooshing past his fingers, so fast the air gave him a chill. He broke away from their kiss just long enough to see the last of the wings fold inside her shoulders.
“Whoa,” he whispered, running his finger over the spot. Even through her suit, he could feel the ridge on her back—it wasn’t large, but it ran down her back from shoulder to waist, a stripe about an inch wide that just felt like puckered skin.
“Yeah. Convenient,” she said and grabbed his face, redirecting him back to her mouth. The kiss got deeper, and all parts of Jason felt it—his chubby was now hard as a rock and wanted out of his jeans.
Ava leaned in closer, tipping the chair she’d straddled. Jason caught her just before the chair fell. Ava climbed on his lap and started kissing his neck, her leather-covered legs wrapped around him.
He ran his hand over her ass, feeling every curve as she kissed his throat.
“Oh God,” Jason whispered.
Ava’s hips started to rock against him, and he pulled her back to him. His hands ran over her back, and there—in the middle—he felt a zipper. Before it even registered, he had it dragged down and his hands were all over her skin. She groaned as he started kissing her neck. One of his hands slid over the leather, cupping her breast and she cried out.
He pulled at the leather, trying to open it more.
Ava leaned back, waved her hand, and the leather bodysuit vanished. The skintight suit was replaced by little more than a thin-strapped sheer thing that fell to her knees. Rather, their laps. And concealed nothing.
Hell…
This woman was going to kill his resolve. He ran his hands over her sides, cupping the gauzy material as he slid up to her breasts.
She groaned when he stroked her and moaned softly as he pinched her breasts through the fabric. He made a point of making sure the material brushed over her nipples and she let out a shuddering breath.
He moved his hands lower, stroking the legs that straddled him—the now-bare legs—and felt the sweet, soft smoothness of her skin, sliding over to her hips as they met in a powerful kiss. Their tongues fought one another, a heady dance that had him rocking his own hips into hers.
He kissed her neck again, loving how she swayed against him while he stroked her back.
“Oh, Jason… Jason I—” Her whole body stiffened in his arms.
She jerked out of his grip, falling backwards off his lap. He tried to stop her, keep her where she was, but she moved too fast—she vanished in a burst of red glitter.
“Son of a—”
“Jason, I’m sorry,” Ava said as she reappeared across the room. Fully clothed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Ava.” He stood and moved toward her.
“Don’t come any closer.”
“Afraid?”
Ava nodded.
“Of me?”
She shook her head. “Of me.” And she disappeared again.
He rubbed his face, then stared at the floor.
Wondered if he should just dump an ice bucket in his pants. Because a cold shower wasn’t going to be enough.
Saturday Night
One cold shower and a call from his hard-of-hearing grandmother had not stifled the longing Jason had for Ava.
When he walked into the bar later, with the envelope for Bruce burning in his fingers, he considered dropping it and taking off. He wasn’t in the mood.
Because, beyond the desire, the fight they’d gotten into before hung in his mind.
He still was furious at her for deleting all the photos. At least she hadn’t gotten the backups. If she had known, she probably would have “magicked” those away as well.
He’d even considered not going to the usual Saturday night get-together with his friends. But he had to get this job off his hands as fast as he could. So he’d come and cut a deal with Bruce about it—though it had nothing to do with saving his friend’s conscience, as much as realizing that Ava was right.
He shouldn’t have taken the job.
And he didn’t trust Bruce to not open the packet until he got home, so Jason made Bruce take it outside to his car while he and Roark secured a pool table.
Roark picked out pool cues. Jason got quarters from a waitress and lined them up on the edge of the pool table to reserve it.
“What’s her name?” Roark asked.
“Who?” Jason asked as he put in the first round of quarters. The loud clatter of the pool balls falling out of the table for use punctuated his words.
“The girl you’re hosed down in that shitty department-store toilet water for,” Roark replied as he handed him a pool cue.
“Do you have any idea how gay that sounded?” Jason said, wishing he hadn’t bothered with the cologne. Roark had that damn nose and always could tell. But Jason had only wanted to mask the scent of Ava. He could still smell her—even after the shower and cologne.
“Screw off, asshat,” Roark said, leaning the cue reserved for Bruce—or so Jason assumed—against the wall. “If you’d come by the shop, I would—”
“Even gayer,” Jason said as he started racking the balls.
Roark smirked. “Nice avoidance.”
“Of what?” He slowly removed the triangle. The balls lay perfectly on the table, ready to be struck, and he rested his hands on the pool table, on either side of the balls.
“Who is she?” Roark asked. “And it better not be Tessa. I will take you out back and remind you why she’s no good for you.”
“Who’s no good for him?” Bruce asked as he picked up his cue and laid it on the table to inspect its straightness.
“Tessa,” Roark said, setting the cue ball on the far end of the table.
Bruce smacked Jason on the back of the head. “Dude!”
The jarring action made Jason mess up the balls, and he growled at his friend. “I never said anything!”
“You two were awful chummy at the wedding,” Roark said.
“She didn’t want to be alone if Lucas had a date.”
“Uh-huh,” Roark said. “You got some wedding bliss sex?”
Jason stared at Roark. “Dude, I may have an intervention.”
“What the fuck is wedding bliss sex?” Bruce asked. “And how do I get some?”
Roark took a sip of his beer. “When people hook up after weddings.”
“That’s a thing?” Jason asked, attempting the second perfect racking of the balls.
“You’d know,” Bruce said. “You go to weddings almost every friggin’ weekend.”
“Hey,” Roark said. “Stephanie told me about it.”
Bruce smirked. “I know there’s something going on between you and her.”
“Not discussing it,” Roark said and crossed his arms.
“Ah-ha! There is!” Bruce grinned at Roark.
“Can it, Bruce,” Jason said. “No g-g-girls tonight.” He stared at the floor, pissed at himself for his fucking broken voice.
Both Roark and Bruce stared at him.
Jason forced himself to cough. “Frog in my throat.”
“Thought you had a handle on that,” Roark said after a minute.
“I do,” Jason said. “M-most days.”
Bruce slapped him on the shoulder. “He’s like a good old car. Takes a couple of good bursts, and then that engine runs smooth.” Bruce waved his arm as he spoke.
Jason nodded. “Yeah, that’s it, man.” He picked up his bourbon and took a sip.
Maybe the liquor would relax him so he wouldn’t stutter like a stupid kid. And maybe he could make sure he didn’t talk about girls. That would help a lot.
“Let’s play pool,” Jason said.