Demons Prefer Blondes (Demons Unleashed #1)(11)

Once Victoria Gregory got started, there was no stopping her. “But you could’ve done so much more with your life.”

“For the five-millionth time, I enjoy it.” Lucy annunciated the sentence with slow deliberateness, making sure she caught every last word.

“You know,” she continued, now that she had her mother’s attention. “I’d rather butcher someone’s bangs than butcher their insides. ‘Oh dear, Mr. Johnson,’” she said in a mock-concerned voice. “‘I’m sorry, but I cut a little too deep. Don’t worry. It’s only your liver; it’ll grow back.’”

Then again there were women like her mother, who’d rather get their liver cut out than live with a hack-job haircut.

“Lucia Anne Gregory!” Her mom chided. “That wasn’t funny at all.”

Lucy shrugged, pushing the empty glass to the side. Too bad it was a work night. She wouldn’t have minded slamming a few more of them down. “I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was making a point. The point went sailing over your head.”

Her mom opened her mouth to speak, but at that precise time the waitress appeared with their order. Thank goodness for talented waiters and waitresses. The young woman pulled out a stand and set the tray down. An array of different concoctions, from entrees to desserts to a rainbow of beverages, blanketed it. It always amazed her how they could balance such a large tray with a single hand. Lucy wouldn’t have survived the first day on the job. She would have been feeding the floor more than the customers.

“Who ordered the tequila-lime roasted chicken?” the young girl asked with a cheery smile, her light blonde ponytail bouncing behind her.

She held the plate out and Lucy’s mouth watered. A huge golden brown chicken breast surrounded by myriad gold, blue, and red tortilla strips. If arranging a plate were an art form, the chef would have given da Vinci a run for his money. If she wasn’t hungry earlier, she was now.

“Me!” Lucy said with eager excitement. She drooled. Steam rose from the succulent chicken as the waitress placed the order in front of Lucy. “Here you are.” Then she placed Mrs. Gregory’s grilled dijon-crusted salmon in front of her. Picking up the empty glass, she asked, “Would you like another?”

“No, but I wouldn’t mind just a straight Diet Coke this time. The captain tells me I need to drink responsibly.”

The waitress giggled and nodded. “Sure thing.” After seeing to Mrs. Gregory’s coffee, she scurried off.

This was the time Lucy most enjoyed with Mom. Stuffing food in their mouths, so they didn’t have to talk much, and limiting that bit of conversation to the food on the plates. “How’s the salmon?” Lucy asked as she cut into her succulent chicken.

Pulling a tiny piece of bone from her mouth, her mom shrugged. “Dry and bony. And this rice pilaf needs some more flavor.” Maybe she should be happy she wasn’t the only thing her mom disapproved of.

“That’s too bad,” Lucy said, picking a piece of chicken with her fork. With as much gusto as she could muster, she took a bite. Mmm. Her favorite. Tangy bursts of tequila, lime, cilantro, and spices exploded in her mouth. Closing her eyes, Lucy savored each bite.

“If chicken is sex, then this is the best orgasm ever.” Dang. Did I just say that out loud? Hearing her mom’s soft gasp, she held back the urge to chuckle. Yep, I did.

What was the deal with the sudden hormone rush? First Serah’s chest? Now the chicken at McIntosh’s? She wasn’t even a food-and-sex kind of gal. With a sheepish blush, Lucy set down her fork. “Sorry. It’s really good.”

“Hush. We’re in public,” her mom huffed, then plucked a steamed carrot from her plate. “At least the carrots are palatable.”

Bet you wished you ordered the chicken. Chuckling, Lucy dipped her fork into some pico de gallo.

Mom threw her napkin down on the table. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Let’s just eat.” Sighing, Lucy picked at the festive display of tortilla strips and dipped them into a side of spicy black bean dip. This was the life. With a sigh of deep contentment, she sat back and enjoyed the meal. If this is what dinner did to her, she didn’t want to know what dessert would do.

Heck, she’d have that dessert. Besides, it would be fun to give Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally a run for her money and freak the crap out of her mom. Lucy turned to scan the restaurant for the waitress when something caught the corner of her eye. What the heck?

Across the restaurant stood a solitary figure draped in a long billowing black robe, with a hood covering most its face. The hairs rose on the back of her neck and her pulse raced. Stomach clenching in knots, she continued to stare. People bustled about, chatting, drinking, and eating while this thing just stood there in the shadows. Didn’t anyone see him? Blinking, she rubbed her eyes and turned to her mom. “Whoa! Look at that.”

Her mom arched a brow and set down her coffee cup. “At what?”

“That!” She pointed and turned back to the shadowy figure. But, lo and behold, it was gone. Mom was right about one thing. She needed rest.

The blonde bouncy waitress appeared with dessert menus. Instantly, Lucy’s salivary glands—along with her stupid hormones—kicked into overdrive.

She would rest after a huge helping of chocolate lava cake.