One Grave at a Time (Night Huntress #6)(13)

I wish I had half his confidence in my abilities, but there wasn’t time for me to wallow in uncertainties. For now, I’d follow the sage mantra of fake it ’til you make it. I smiled and changed the subject.

“There’s a man inside the florist’s shop thinking you’re way too hot to be straight. Think he’s our medium?”

Bones’s mouth curled, but he didn’t bother looking over my shoulder at the shop behind me. No doubt he’d picked up on those same thoughts himself, but was too polite to admit it.

“Let’s find out.”

The plethora of scents inside Helen of Troy’s Garden had me breathing almost as often as I had before I became a full vampire. Fresh floral fragrances washed away the acridness of oil, exhaust, and chemicals from my occasional breaths on the drive over, making me feel like my lungs had just gone through a quick cleaning. For practicality’s sake, it also gave me a chance to scent out any potential dangers. Undead Masters might be able to cloak their auras, but no one could fully erase their scent. A couple sniffs told me that no other vampires were in the store but me and Bones, and I didn’t catch the earthy scent of any ghouls, either. Sure, we were here on Spade’s referral, but waltzing in without our guard up was akin to asking Fate to send us an unpleasant surprise, in my opinion.

Once I established that the only danger the florist shop represented would be to someone with allergies, I turned my attention to the chicly dressed, smiling African-American man who continued to check Bones out as if he was an orgasm for the eyes.

In fairness, he was, but it still raised my instinctive vampire territorialism even though Bones was faithful, not to mention he didn’t swing that way.

“You Tyler?” Bones asked at the same time that I loudly cleared my throat. Both served to cut off the beginnings of a mental fantasy the man was having about Bones that would take days to scrub from my mind.

“That’s me,” Tyler replied with a quick, engaging grin.

“We have an appointment,” I said, fighting my urge to grip Bones’s arm while hissing and flashing fang. “I’m Cat, and this is my husband, Bones.”

Amusement wafted over my subconscious, but Bones’s expression didn’t change from its mask of cool inscrutability as he regarded Tyler.

“Just my luck you couldn’t be a brother and sister shopping for some flowers for Mom,” Tyler said in a disappointed tone. Then he winked at me. “That’s right, honey, state your claim on Mr. Yummy Pants. I’d do the same if I were you.”

A grin ticked at my mouth. I swept my gaze over the muscled roundness of Bones’s ass, which his black jeans only highlighted. Then I gazed at the snug fit of the front that had nothing to do with the cut of the denim. Finally, I met Tyler’s chocolate-colored eyes and winked back.

He laughed.

“Nice shop,” I said to change the subject. “Everything’s so fresh and beautiful.”

Tyler waved a hand. “Being a medium might sound glamorous, but creditors are only impressed with one thing, sweetness. Payments. Besides”—he shuddered dramatically—“when they find out about my other job, they always want proof that I’m not faking, and telling someone their dead Aunt Tilly hates their skanky new girlfriend just leads to your power getting shut off.”

I couldn’t stop my laugh at that. Bones’s mouth quirked. “Indeed. Now, mate, you know why we’ve come. Shall we chat here, or elsewhere?”

“Here. Just let me close up.”

Tyler bustled over to the entrance, flipping the sign from OPEN to SORRY WE MISSED YOU! before locking the door. On his way back, he gave another open leer at Bones’s ass before meeting my gaze and fanning himself.

“Rawr!” he stage-whispered.

My initial spurt of territorialism had changed to humor. Tyler reminded me of another affable pervert—my friend, Juan. If it was female, Juan was attracted to it. Aside from a switch in gender, Tyler seemed to be the same way. From his thoughts, I knew he had no serious interest in hitting on Bones now that he knew he was married. He just couldn’t seem to help himself. Tyler’s thoughts bounced around between wondering what sort of ghost was giving us trouble, to pondering whether we were human, to guessing that Bones tasted like vanilla frosting.

Two out of the three musings weren’t slutty, at least.

“All set now. Follow me,” Tyler said.

We headed toward the back room of the shop. Another heartbeat came from there, making me wonder if Tyler had a partner. I wasn’t worried that he hadn’t mentioned anyone else being here, though. If one human proved too much for Bones and me to handle, we didn’t deserve to have fangs. More plants and boxes were stacked along the short, narrow hallway, as well as bags of fertilizer and other greenery accessories. As predicated, this clutter ended in a small office with no windows and walls that had seen better days. It was also empty of anyone that I could see, but from the rapid heartbeat—and some nasally grunting—an animal was in here.

Bones and I sat in the two folding chairs opposite a desk that had duct tape wrapped around one corner. Tyler pulled a comfier-looking chair out from behind the desk to sit closer to us.

“Sorry for the surroundings,” he said, still in that same cheery way. “Have to make it pretty in front for customers, but that means skimping back here where it’s just me and Dexter.”