He returned downstairs about fifteen minutes later looking (as Marvin said) fabulous. Admittedly, he’d needed to hold Marvin back. “Maybe next time we have an event, you’ll let me go all out?” the merman pressed hopefully. And because Colin felt so pretty, (and because he was Marvin, and Marvin was so flipping cool), and because he was Alpha-mate and paying Colin attention and wanting to spend time with him (young, geeky Colin), Colin had replied, “Okay, maybe for the barbecue?” Rather injudiciously. He felt his stomach flip with nerves, and his throat close in fear. Because at the barbecue would be all their friends, seeing him trying to be beautiful for a man who really wanted him. Until Marvin had clapped his hands in an excess of joy at the very idea, and Colin had felt he would at least make somebody happy.
He looked in the mirror near the front door, waiting for Judd to join him, and studied what Marvin had done. It was subtle but his lids sparkled faint purple, causing the green of his eyes to pop. He thought he actually looked sexy. Maybe he held himself just a little bit taller because of it.
Judd noticed, of course. Judd walked right over to him, cupped his face, and stroked a thumb down his cheek. “You look really hot, Gingersnap.”
And all Colin’s worries were gone, just like that.
“Café?” Colin said, like it was his idea.
“You got the photos to show Trick?” Judd looked around as if expecting a stack of printed images.
Colin nodded. “On my phone.”
“Oh, right, of course.”
Colin was reminded again how old Judd really was. He’d been alive at the dawn of photography, how cool was that? Of course, he’d be slow to acclimatize to the digital age.
Trick was bouncing about happily behind his counter when they arrived. He displayed admirable cheer for a man under threat of imminent blubber bozoing. He was wearing a big yellow rose behind one ear and a pink peasant shirt with floaty sleeves and matching lipstick. Trick was not the type to let anything affect his fashion choices, even possible death. If anything, his attitude was: If I die, I better be wearing the good stuff.
As if sensing Colin’s line of thought, Judd explained, “Dratsies really are ridiculous creatures.”
“But so colorful.” Colin looked up at Judd. “You like him.”
“I like you. He’s okay,” replied Judd, without a second thought.
Colin tried not to be thrilled or read too much into it.
Max was on guard duty today. He was lounging in one of the comfy chairs at the back, looking arrogant and lazy and deadly, as was his wont. Colin had grown accustomed to the way the Magistar smelled – acrid coolant and hard cinnamon candy – pack mate and power. He didn’t love it, but he didn’t loathe it like he had before Max and Bryan mated.
The mage was eating something sticky and saccharine, and no doubt drinking the same. The man had a sweet tooth the size of an Alpha’s canine – massive, and if applied frequently enough, liable to convert any normal man into an insane monster.
It amused Colin to note that Max, unlike the werewolves of the pack (or any decent bodyguard for that matter), hadn’t bothered to sit at the front of the café near the door. He didn’t need to. Max could do serious damage from a distance, even without his familiar. People thought the worst thing about Max was that the man could tear apart the fabric of reality. But that wasn’t it. No, if bad guys came into his café, Max would simply stand up, saunter over and activate his true power – sublime, capital Q, Queeniest Cattiest Bitchiness. He might not actually be a werewolf bitch, but Max had a beastly tongue, and admirable skill at applying it. He was a weapon of mass discussion. Colin lived in fear and awe.
There was a small line at the counter, which they joined. Judd slung his arm around Colin’s shoulders and tucked him hard against his side. Colin adored it, leaned into him, pretended they belonged together, and tried not to care how bony he was compared to Judd’s big frame.
Trick twinkled up at them. “What can I get you boys? The usual, Colin darling?”
Colin nodded. Why break with tradition? “And Floyd’s next as well.”
Floyd gave him a salute of gratitude with his knitting needles.
Trick winked at Colin. “You look sexy as fuck, sweetie, love the war paint.