Accidentally…Over? (Accidentally Yours #5)(41)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

He turned to start cleaning up the mess they’d made and stubbed his toe on the leg of the kitchen table.

“Ow. Matrem fututor.” Gods, I miss clothing. Especially shoes. Of course, his feet would be getting a long, long rest once his brethren got a hold of him. They would show zero mercy now that they knew he’d brought Ashli forward against Cimil’s instruction. Of course, Cimil’s prophecy made absolutely no sense. It had been impossible to keep Ashli alive in her time. Cimil’s prophecy was useless. Or a trick. Maybe.

Yet somehow, he didn’t give a damn. Given the opportunity, he’d do it all over again. Sure, he wanted to throw himself at Ashli’s feet like a giant sappy mortal and beg for mercy. Not for immortalizing her without her permission, mind you, but for being such a colossal prick. Not that he could help it. After all, he was who he was. A deity. Ergo, prick.

But what was the point to ask forgiveness: (a) He was a god. Gods did not ask for forgiveness. (Yes. Giant pricks, the whole lot of them.) And (b) there was absolutely nothing—not her anger, not his impending punishment, nothing—that could possibly inspire regret for what he’d done. He’d gotten her out of immediate danger.

Great. So I ask again, now what?

He rubbed his unshaved jaw. Damn, he needed a shave. Where was a unicorn when you needed one?

Ashli burst into the kitchen through the back door, tears staining her exquisite face: pert nose, catlike eyes, and a mouth that held one of those permanent pouts. Just looking at her lips made him harder than a diamond wheel.

“Máax! Máax?” she screamed.

He rushed to her side. “Sanctum sanctorum cacas. Please don’t tell me you almost died again?”

“More Latin? Really?” She wiped the tears from under her eyes, eyes that were once a gorgeous hazel but now had the mark of the gods. Turquoise, just like his. A small price to pay, he supposed.

“Forget it,” she said. “Just send me back. Right now! I don’t care if I die; I can’t stay here.”

“Hell no.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“That was English so I know you understood, but let me repeat it. Hell. No.”

Ashli knew that the words coming from her mouth might seem outlandish and rash, but who cared? It was her life, and she didn’t want to live it in this place. There was nothing left for her. Nothing but goddamned Monkeyccino’s!

“What do you mean, ‘Hell. No’?”

“Ashli.” Máax’s hand slid down her arm. “I realize things are different here, but give it some time, I’m sure—”

“Monkeyccino’s? You turned my café into a twig and berries buffet! No. Take me back right now so I can undo it.” She found his hand and attempted to tug him toward the door.

“Ashli.” He stood firm. And dammit, with his enormous size, making him go anywhere he didn’t want to go would be like moving a tree stump with a pair of tweezers.

Maybe he’s ticklish. She jabbed for his armpit and missed.

“What are you doing, woman?” he asked as she attempted to locate the strategic spot.

Bingo! She slid her hand under his arm and began wiggling her fingers.

“Ashli? Why are you molesting my underarm? While I admit I enjoy it, the behavior is a bit peculiar.”

Ugh! It wasn’t working. She dropped her hand. Of course! Why would gods be ticklish? They were too powerful for that!

“Ashli?”

She made a little snarl. “You have to take me back.”

“I do not want to do that, and even if I did, I cannot. The tablet I use to access the portal in this time is currently located in Arizona.”

Grrrrr. “You’re lying again, aren’t you?”

“Why have you taken up growling?” he asked. “You do realize that is my move, yes?”

“Don’t you change subjects, you lying sonofabitch.”

“Perhaps I deserved that,” he replied, “but I promise you—”

“Prove it.” She pointed outside. She wanted to see the truth with her own eyes. Trust was a fragile thing, and he’d broken hers.

“Very well,” he grumbled.

They went outside to the spot where he’d buried the tablet twenty years ago. He dug down a few feet and sure enough, nothing.

“I’m certain the tablet washed into the ocean during one of the many hurricanes,” he said.

“Then take me to Arizona.” She didn’t want to stay a moment longer.

“Your request makes absolutely no sense, which means that either you are not telling me everything or you have gone mad. Or you are drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. Or mad.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes, and she turned away. She didn’t want him to see her cry. She was stronger than this.

Okay. No she wasn’t, but she really, really wanted to pretend.

“Ashli,” Máax said with a sweet, sympathetic boyfriendy kind of voice, “tell me what is troubling you.”

“That house,” she sniffled, “and that café were the only things I had left of my parents, Máax. And now they’re gone. It feels like I lost my family all over again.” She turned toward him. “Why didn’t you tell me everything would change?”

“If I had known how much they meant to you, I would have explained that things may be different twenty years ahead. But I am unused to thinking that way. After living tens of thousands of years, I no longer attach myself to material things. I barely notice them.” Máax’s hand cradled her cheek and sparked tingles all over her face. “I am sorry. I did not understand.” He pulled her into his body and held her close. That might have felt comforting except for the fact he was buck naked. Somehow those two didn’t go together.

She pulled back and cleared away her tears. Máax was silent for several moments, but she heard the faint sound of his beard being scratched. When would that man shave?

“I will take you to Arizona on one condition,” he said.

“What?” she asked quietly.

“You take a swim with me. And you do more of that thing with your fingers. Okay. Those are two conditions, but so be it. I am a god, and this is my prerogative.”

Was he out of his mind? A swim? At a time like this? And he wanted to be tickled? “Hell. No,” she said, to use his own words.

He laughed in an arrogant, pleased sort of way.

“I don’t see what’s so funn—”