The Last Guy
“I think so . . . but I mix those guys up with the Orcs.”
His enthusiasm dims only slightly. “They’re actually part of the Tolkien mythology.”
“That’s Game of Thrones?” I take another, longer sip.
“Game of Thrones is George R.R. Martin.” Phil shakes his head. “Lord of the Rings is J. R. R. Tolkien.”
“So many Rs. Are they related?”
“Not that I’m aware . . .” Phil clears his throat and forges on. “As far as fantasy humanoids go, Orcs are possibly the most sophisticated, with their base of operations in the Misty Mountains, Morder and Isengard . . .”
Holy space balls. I look around and catch Cade’s eyes staring right at us. It’s like a lightening strike to my core, and I snap back to Phil.
“Oh, my goodness!” I say loudly, reaching across to cover his hand with mine. “That’s so funny!”
He pulls back, confused. “Sauron and Saruman are actually the worst villains in the entire trilogy.”
“Their names are sour!” I smile bigger, giving his hand a slow, affectionate stroke.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true . . .” He takes a slow sip of his beer and watches me as if I’m the one saying a bunch of crazy shit.
I’m about to ask about Klingon villains when I feel the heat of bodies near the table. I look up to see Cade and his Amazonian princess standing right beside us. The look in Cade’s eyes could laser-decapitate Phil the Fantasy Nerd.
“Hello, Stone, funny seeing you here.” A definite edge is in his voice, and it pisses me off. He’s got a lot of nerve.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I say, meeting his tone and raising it. “I thought you were visiting your mother.”
“You know him, too?” Phil’s eyebrows rise.
“We work together,” Cade and I answer simultaneously.
“You’re Rebecca Fieldstone!” The impossibly beautiful woman at Cade’s side says, and I brace myself for a boob comment. She shakes my hand. “I’m Sissy. I just loved the report you did last year on the fossilized remains of the ichthyosaur they found in Del Rio! It was a huge part of the reason I wanted to move here.”
“Is that so . . .” My eyes drift to Cade’s.
“Sissy is a vermiculturist,” he says in a superior tone, as if everybody knows what the hell that is.
“Ah!” my date interjects. “You study the conversion of waste and dead tissue into organic material by earthworms. Very specialized work!”
“That’s right!” Sissy moves closer to Phil.
Cade pulls my attention right back to him. “I thought you were eating tacos and going to bed early.”
Again, my face flames red. I never should have told him that.
“You like tacos?” Phil cries. “I know the best place for tacos in all of Houston!”
“What?”
He’s up and digging in his jeans, and I’m looking from my half-finished martini to him as he takes Cade’s hand and pumps it. “I’m Phil Byars.”
“Cade Hill.”
Phil puts a wad of twenties on the table and grins at me. “Let’s split.”
“What about dinner?” I’m confused.
“Forget all this superficiality. If you love tacos, you’re having tacos.”
“I want to go!” Sissy takes another step closer to my date.
“Didn’t you just eat?”
“There’s always room for a taco,” she laughs, and I can’t decide if I like this girl or if I want to punch her for being a size zero and saying something like that.
“Sure, we can join you,” Cade’s voice is still irritated, and it fans my own irritation.
“We don’t want to spoil your evening.” I slug the rest of my martini and go to Phil’s side, putting my hand in the crook of his arm.
“I don’t mind!” Sissy looks expectantly at Phil. “So you know about vermiculture?”
“Only a little.” My date steps forward, out of my grasp.
Wonder Woman saunters off with Fantasy Phil, and I’m left following them at Cade’s side. The tension vibrating between us is like heat on my skin.
We pause as Cade tosses a few hundred-dollar bills on his table. I take in small appetizer plates and several shot glasses and raise an eyebrow at him. “Doing shots with all the girls?”
His lips tighten. “Only you, Stone. Only you.”
I half-snort as we pass quickly through the foyer and out into the cool night. It’s actually a perfect night, not too cold, no wind, and a sky full of stars.
Phil looks around and calls to us. “We can walk from here. It’s two blocks up and to the left.”
I fumble through my memory. The only thing in that direction is White Oak Park. “It’s in the park?”
“Trust me,” Phil says, returning to his conversation with Sissy.
Cade and I follow, and the tightness in my shoulders is almost unbearable. After the amazing day we had today, I can’t believe he just flat-out lied to me about going to his mother’s. Five more steps, and I can’t take it anymore.
“You said you were going to your mother’s.” My voice is way poutier than I’d intended, but I don’t care. I am a woman wronged.
“You wanted space.” His voice is simmering with anger. He looks at me and then glares at Phil’s back. “Is that what space looks like to you?”
As a matter of fact . . . I consider my ridiculous conversation with Phil. I think of my recurring dream of the handsome man who blasts off to Mars shortly after giving me the greatest O of my life. Looking ahead, I see Phil and Sissy have stopped at a silver food truck right at the entrance to the park. Of course, Mr. Mortal Shell would take us to a food truck. Still, they’re laughing and talking like old friends.
My chest sinks, and I realize everything is wrong.
“I hate space,” I say softly.
Cade steps in front of me and puts both hands on my shoulders, stopping me. “What do you really want, Stone?”
I blink up, our eyes meet, and I can’t deny the heat flooding my core. I think I know what I want . . . I know for sure what I don’t want.
Giving up the fight, I confess. “I want you.”
His anger melts into a smile. “Let’s get rid of these guys.”
“But we’re on dates.” My gaze flickers to the couple now munching on Mexican and sitting on a park bench.
“I have an idea to fix that.”
“Does it involve you and me alone?”
His eyes sweep over me, and I shiver at the lick of fire that moves up my spine. “Yes.”
Cade
MY IDEA IS simple: I pretend like I’ve gotten a call from the station about an incident at a college football game and they want me to come in. I inform Sissy—who doesn’t seem all that interested.
She glances from her taco to Phil. “Do you mind if I hang out here with these guys?”
Yes, sweet baby Jesus. “Absolutely not. Enjoy yourself.” I shoot a quick look to Stone. “Good to see you tonight, Stone. I’ll see you back at the office on Monday.”
The next second she pretends to get a text from Chas who suddenly needs a ride to the ER because she isn’t feeling well.
“Poor Chas,” Stone says with a hand over her heart. “She’s too weak to drive. I should go.”