he . . . smokes.”
“I could feel the disturbance in the air,” the guide said.
I looked back at Diesel. “Can Wulf disturb the air?”
Diesel did a palms-up. “Hard to say what Wulf can do.”
I retreated into my house with Diesel, closed the door, and threw the bolt. “I’m resigning. I’m turning in my special ability that we’re not even sure I possess.”
Diesel stretched and scratched his stomach. “I’m hungry,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have any of those cupcakes laying around.”
“Are you listening to me?”
“You can’t resign,” Diesel said, ambling off to the kitchen. “It would be irresponsible. Wulf could do really bad things with the Stones.”
“Not my problem.”
Diesel pulled the tray of lasagna out of the refrigerator. “Unfortunately, it is your problem. Wulf knows you have the ability to recognize a Stone. You won’t be safe until all the Stones are turned over to the BUM.”
“All the Stones? I have to find all the Stones?”
“That’s the plan.”
“What about my life?”
“We’ll work around it.” He tugged at my ponytail. “It’ll be fun. You can make the cupcakes, and I’ll eat the cupcakes. Play your cards right, and I might even be able to get you a date.”
“I don’t want you to get me a date. I can get my own dates.”
Diesel got a fork from the silverware drawer. “When was the last time you went out on a date?”
“None of your business.”
“Hah!” Diesel said, forking a noodle off the lasagna.
I took the lasagna from Diesel and sliced off a piece. I spooned some red sauce onto a plate, placed the lasagna on top of the red sauce, and nuked it. When it was done, I added fresh grated cheese and a sprig of fresh basil, and handed it to him.
“I could get used to this,” Diesel said, digging in.
Oh jeez.
That got a smile from Diesel. “It was meant as a compliment, not a marriage proposal.”
“How do I know you’re not worse than Wulf?”
“Listen to your instincts.”
I raised an eyebrow. My instincts weren’t comfy with any of this.
“Okay,” Diesel said. “Then listen to the cat’s instincts. He likes me.”
“How can you tell?”
“He hasn’t bitten me or peed on my shoe.” Diesel finished his lasagna, rinsed his plate, put it in the dishwasher, and headed for the living room. “We should be able to catch the end of the Red Sox game.”
“Pass. I’m going to bed. I have to be at the bakery at five A.M.”
Diesel remoted the television on. “Too bad. The Sox are playing the Yankees.”
I was making an effort to be a Red Sox fan, but I hadn’t yet achieved total rapture. So far, baseball for me was all about the hot dogs and peanuts at the ballpark.
“I don’t suppose I could convince you to leave?” I said to Diesel.
“I don’t suppose you could.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I woke up in a panic. The room was black as pitch, and I was having difficulty breathing. My eyes adjusted to the minimal light, and I realized a cat was sleeping on my chest . . . my cat.
I rolled Cat to one side, and I bumped into Diesel. He was tucked in next to me, warming the bed, his breathing even, his expression softened by sleep. My first reaction should have been more panic, but the truth is, Diesel felt comfortable next to me. Go figure that. This big, handsome, probably insane, wiseass guy was in bed with me, and not only wasn’t I screaming in terror, I was actually hugely attracted to him. Not a healthy situation.
I looked at my bedside clock. It was 4:10, and my alarm was set for 4:15.
“Hey!” I said to Diesel.
“Mmmm.”
“You have a lot of nerve, sneaking into my bed like that.”
He half opened his eyes. “I didn’t sneak. I asked if you were awake, you didn’t answer, so I took my clothes off and got into bed.”
“You took your clothes off?”
“You didn’t notice?”
“No! Jeez Louise, I don’t even know you.”
“If you look under the covers, you’ll know me better.”
“I don’t want to know you better!”
“That’s a big fib,” Diesel said. The alarm buzzed, Diesel reached across me, and shut it off. “Do you get up this early every morning?”
“Five days out of seven.”
“Bummer.”
I scooted Cat away and crawled out of bed. When the weather turned colder, I’d sleep in flannel jammies. For now, I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt.
“Cute,” Diesel said, taking in my outfit, “but they’re not exactly sex goddess clothes.”
“I could be a sex goddess if I wanted.”
“Good to know,” Diesel said.