Loving and Loathing Vegas (6 page)

Okay
, Jackson thought. She doesn’t approve of him either. Jackson stepped back, and she resumed her normal volume of shrill baby cries. He gnawed on his bottom lip. Cillian was trying to be helpful, but he couldn’t shake the pride of not wanting outside help. He had his moments where he could let his walls down, but then they went right back up. Jeshebet had become his baby, and she went from an awkward surprise burden to someone he cared for.

He felt Jeshebet’s forehead. “She does feel a little warm.”

“Are you sure?”

Jackson felt his own forehead. “Nope. She’s fine.”

In a corner booth, a pretty young tourist raised her water glass.

Jackson pointed at her with his chin. “Table four needs a refill. Check if table seven needs more fries.”

Cillian nodded, grabbing the pitcher from under the counter. “Thanks. For letting me be here.”

Jackson mustered a pleasant smile, able to keep his emotions in check.

Jeshebet quieted, and he sighed in relief as his ears rang.

Only she started in again.

“Please. Please. Please stop crying,” he whispered to her. “Do you want your baby block? You like your baby block.” He stooped slightly to reach under the counter, then blindly felt through the tote bag for her toy. He brightened when he found it, and then presented it to her. “Look, look—” He shook the squishy vinyl block and let her listen to the jingling bells inside. “—we like the block. We like the block a lot.”

She smacked it out of his hand, sending it bouncing across the counter and into a woman’s slice of candy cane chocolate silk pie.

Jackson withered as the woman gave him a dour look. He swept forward, reaching for her plate. “Would you like me to get you another? On the house,” he said as Jeshebet’s face bled from red to purple with all her wailing.

The woman’s face softened just the slightest bit. “We were all that age once. I’ll pray for you that it passes soon.”

Jackson pasted on a quick smile. “Mmm-hmm,” he said as he took her plate and set it in the dirty dish tray under the counter. “I’ll go see about getting you another slice.” It was the easiest polite response he could muster. He turned to the pass-through and called into the kitchen. “Need another slice of the holiday pie!”

Vegas didn’t answer as he worked the grill. Sweat soaked his tank top and his bandanna, as he seasoned chicken with one hand and flipped a burger with the other. Twirling his spatula through his fingers, he then pocketed it in his apron and moved on to the ovens. As he opened the oven door, the light traced the hard lines of his face. Vegas was focused down to the second. He couldn’t make words when Eaven was at their busiest. Jackson knew he went from one place mentally to an entirely different one, where his brain shut off everything that seemed superficial.

He had seen that same intense glare many times during their days of raucous orgies when Vegas had gotten serious about his boy of the moment. Silent, all of his concentration locked on the pleasure of the other instead of tending to his own. Vegas expressed that same need to please with his food.

Jackson swallowed. It seemed like a joke with Vegas’s frequent Sisyphus analogies, but it was the truth. Vegas focused on the pleasure of their customers instead of tending to his own.

The door dinged with another steady stream of hungry customers. Jackson was somewhat pleased they didn’t have enough tables at the moment and had to form a waitlist.

The waitlist meant extra income and more reviews on TripAdvisor.

But with Jeshebet’s infernal wailing, some of the customers muttered to each other in concern. And if there’s anything Jackson knew, it was
true
infernal wailing. Jeshebet came dangerously close to outdoing herself.

Jackson turned to the pass-through and found Vegas looming directly on the other side, only inches away.

Vegas’s green eyes crackled with hidden demonic energies he had long locked away. Stoically, he nudged the slice of pie across the pass-through shelf. “Pie,” he managed to say.

Jackson knitted his brows, concerned. “You okay? I think your seal is breaking….”

Vegas shook his head and blinked, but his eyes remained bright and sparking. “I cracked the seal a few days ago,” he said sternly.

“How did you manage that?” Jackson felt playing dumb was the wisest choice. Could it have been because Vegas pleasured himself and felt a climax for the first time in centuries? It couldn’t be something as simple as that. Why would he compromise his pride for a fleeting moment?

“I needed it for the edge,” Vegas said, and seemed to expect Jackson to understand.

But Jackson read between the lines. “Are you cheating on our bet?” He scowled at Vegas.

“Nope. The night’s not over yet,” Vegas said, and offered a toothy grin.

Jackson gasped. “Your fangs are showing.”

Vegas ran his tongue over his elongated canines. “So they are.”

“Be serious,” Jackson said. “No one can see you like this. Hell, no humans can be near you. They’ll convulse in bone-shattering orgasms just from you standing next to them.” He patted Jeshebet as her cries became white noise. “Can we focus? There’s a waitlist going. Maybe bring out more pies?”

“We’re already half through the stock. The candy cane chocolate silk is going fast,” Vegas said. “This is four times the size of our usual holiday crowd. Push the white chocolate truffle cake. I can put a marshmallow snowman on it or something.”

Jackson nodded, and Jeshebet screeched and grimaced.

Vegas leaned back, knocking his knuckles to the threshold of the pass-through. “Bah humbug to you too, smooshy-face,” he told Jeshebet.

“Smooshy-face?” Jackson asked, offended. “She has a perfectly good cherub face.”

“But when she cries, she smooshes her face up like a rotten pomelo. Hence, smooshy-face,” Vegas said. Over his shoulder, the kitchen timer chimed above the deep fryers. “Fish and chips are ready. Back in two.”

Jackson snorted in derision as he took the pie dish. Balancing the screeching baby on his arm and the dish in his hand, Jackson set it down in front of the woman. “I’ll take it off your bill, ma’am.”

At first she maintained her sour face, but slowly smiled. “I wish I had the grace to stay as calm under pressure.”

Jackson nodded, then stroked through Jeshebet’s peach fuzz of hair. She quieted, and Jackson eased the knots in his stomach.

And then there she went again.

“Are you sleepy?” he asked her. “Do you need a nap?”

Cillian scuttled about the diner, refilling water glasses and smiling sweetly. For a guy who ran a quirky charms and talisman shop that reeked of patchouli, he really had taken to customer service.

The door chimed, but this time a single customer entered.

Ennis.

Jeshebet laughed.

Jackson blinked as she babbled happily and kicked her tiny feet.

The customers erupted into collective applause at Jeshebet’s sudden positive mood shift.

Jackson swept a bow as best he could while holding a baby. “Parenting, am I right?”

“Damn right,” a mother shouted out from one table. Her teenage children shook their heads in embarrassment.

“Free white chocolate truffle cake for you,” Jackson said, smiling bright.

Behind him in the kitchen, he could hear Vegas slap his tongs to the grill. Jackson glanced back and caught the disapproving glare. It wasn’t a matter of the cake stock. It was the giving it away for free.

“Customer service?” Jackson mouthed with an apologetic expression.

Vegas continued to glare from his place over the grill. His eyes filled with green arcs of energy, and his aura visibly flared. The licks of pale green aural flames danced over his body, and his hidden demonic tattoos drew over his skin in ornate swirls.

Not good.
Not good
.

Cillian returned to the counter and set about refilling the water pitcher. He smiled at Jackson. “She stopped crying.”

“Huh?” he asked, distracted by Vegas’s escalating power. He cleared his throat. “Oh. Right. Right.” He snuck a quick look into the kitchen again and then back to Cillian. “Hey. Um. There’s a guy over in the waiting pool. We have a single seat here at the counter. Think you can bring him over?”

Cillian came closer to him, and Jackson slid in front of the pass-through window, trying to block the view. “You told me we don’t seat incomplete parties,” he said, concerned.

“Oh no, he’s meeting someone who’s already here,” Jackson said as Jeshebet muttered to herself. “See him? Blond guy with the glasses.”

Cillian turned just as Ennis made eye contact with him.

Jackson congratulated himself; he couldn’t have timed it better.

Cillian gripped his ordering pad and clutched his pen as his eyes widened.

Jackson arched a brow as they held each other’s gazes, but Ennis was the first to break it, as if he were just staring into space. Jackson leaned in to whisper in Cillian’s ear. “You know him?”

Cillian nodded mutely. His cheeks flooded with blush. “It’s been a… very long time,” he finally managed to say.

“Do you want to bring him over?” Jackson asked as Cillian trembled. The poor guy’s expression was a mixture of nerves and fear. “It’s okay, right?” He had to check, just in case.

Cillian nodded as his grip tightened on his pen.

What would they talk about? How it was too little too late? How Cillian had moved on from… wherever he came from. How Ennis was so desperate to leave it all behind, buy a rusted-out VW Beetle, and take a chance on a hunch.

That love could endure time and space.

Jackson snorted. Space. He had a lot of work to do on getting over how bizarre Cillian could be.

Or
Jackson could have misconstrued Ennis’s feelings for Cillian as actually obsessive stalking. Oops? He hoped he was right about the first, because the second would prove incredibly awkward for a Christmas party with an incubus hulking out in the kitchen.

He took the initiative and nodded to Cillian. “Follow me.”

Cillian obeyed, shyly walking along behind him. Jeshebet’s infectious giggles grew into belly laughs as they neared the waiting customers.

A portly woman wearing a hoodie stitched with gaudy patches spelling out Albuquerque stepped in Jackson’s path. “How much longer?” she asked. “I saw you guys on TripAdvisor. They said the pie is worth the detour.”

Jackson put on his best smile while Jeshebet gave her best resting bitch face. “Just a few more minutes, ma’am. I can arrange a pie sample for your party.”

Vegas would kill him for it for sure. Jackson would add the cost back on in gratuity.

Instead of being entitled, the woman flushed bright red and stumbled against her husband. Her knees trembled. Her husband muttered, asking if she was all right. She nodded, grinning as bright as a prom queen popping her cherry.

Uh-oh.

Jackson glanced to Cillian, and Ennis slipped through the crowd to the two of them.

“Are you okay?” Ennis asked. “Your eyes are kind of bright.”

Jackson looked helplessly between Cillian and Ennis. This wasn’t really how he’d planned it in his head. He grimaced. “Guys. Odd question time.”

“Shoot,” Cillian said.

“Are they glowing? Give it to me straight. I trust you two.”

Ennis arched a brow. “Are you sure? I’m a journalist, y’know.”

Jackson scowled. “If you’re looking for him”—he gestured to Cillian—“I know you know about weird shit.”

Cillian stood straighter, affronted. “Excuse you?”

Jackson waved him off. “Never mind. Are my eyes freaking glowing?”

Ennis nodded. “And turning silver.”

“Dammit,” Jackson bit out. With Vegas breaking his seal, somehow Jackson’s power was siphoning off the energy. He gave each of them a pained look. “This is really not the way I wanted reuniting you guys to go, but… things are cool between you, right?”

“Yeah?” Ennis said, glancing to Cillian. “Right?”

Jackson nodded to Cillian. “He’s not a stalker, right?”

“
No
!” Cillian snapped, seeming to take offense on Ennis’s behalf.

In Jackson’s arms, Jeshebet squealed and reached for Ennis. She wiggled against Jackson, trying to get out. If anything, Jeshebet had some strong opinions about a lot of things. Vegas had said at the start of this month-long cock-up that it wasn’t that babies can’t talk, just adults don’t speak their language. Jackson had begun to pick up Jeshebet’s lingo.

“Can you take the baby for a bit?” he asked Ennis. “She likes you, and I need to head to the back to help out Vegas.”

“Sure?” Ennis said, uncertain, as he reached out for her.

Jackson settled her into Ennis’s arms, and she cackled and kicked her feet.

“Who knew you’d be good with kids,” Cillian said softly.

Jackson nodded to the empty seat at the counter. “Cillian will take care of you. Right? You guys can… um… talk.” He hated how awkward it came out.

“Of course,” Cillian said with a bright smile. Jackson would forever call it the Tweety Bird Smile for how he swore birds were going to start chirping around his head.

“Thanks,” Jackson said as he made his quick escape. He knew it was going to become extremely awkward for Ennis, a guy saddled with baby duty and finding out his boyfriend/whatever had moved on to the hottest demon chef in town. Well. There was only one chef in town, regardless of if he was a demon or not.

Jackson slipped into the kitchen, the door almost swatting him in the rear as he nearly doubled over from the lustful heat filling the kitchen. His lashes fluttered as he clutched the doorjamb when Vegas’s raw sexual energy punched him in the gut.

But Vegas didn’t pay him any mind. He continued his dance of manning the grill and deep fryer, and plating cakes and pies. The kitchen reeked of greasy burgers and aroused man. And Vegas was at the epicenter of it all.

Jackson struggled for coherent thought as he checked the back of his own hand. He gritted his teeth at the swirling tattoo drawing itself over his skin. He never suspected Vegas breaking his seal would assault his own. Jackson felt coherent, just rock hard and ready to fuck a tree if he had to. His seal hadn’t broken, but Vegas was well on his way to smashing it with a sledgehammer.