Fantastical (Fantasyland #3)(87)

“Go on,” Tor urged when I stopped.

“The worst case scenario, and the one I’m thinking it is, is that he’s undercover and he’s either investigating her activities or using her as an in to bring down some illegal gambling racket.”

“This would be bad,” Tor muttered.

He had that right.

“But I would like to know why you think it’s the worst case scenario,” Tor stated.

I moved so I could see his face (kind of) and explained, “Well, you said she was cold. He even said she was cold. And you said that, um… she was not much to write home about in the bed frolicking department.”

I felt his body shake with laughter and heard his voice shake with it when he confirmed, “Indeed, she’s not much to write home about in the bed frolicking department.”

I slapped his arm. “Tor, this is serious!”

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice still shaking, “talk on.”

I sucked in an annoyed breath and then I told him, “We have no way of knowing, since she’s so different from me, what he’s like. I was only around him a few minutes but he seemed, I don’t know, sweet.”

His arms tensed around me and I quickly forged ahead.

“Anyway, she is who she is so my guess would be, she thinks she’s playing him. He said she was a wildcat. If she was a wildcat and he was into her, and he’s even a little bit like you, then no way that a few missed phone calls and Cora not opening the door would mean he’d give up and tell her to pack his clothes in a suitcase and put them out in the hall. That’s saying it’s over and he’s fine with that. If she’s giving it to him like he likes it and he’s into her, he’s not going to give up that easy. Unless she’s not giving it to him like he likes it, he’s pretending he likes it as a means to an end, she’s giving him the heave ho and he’s sensing trouble which, as a cop he would do, so he’s cutting his losses and taking off.”

“This would make sense,” Tor replied.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“This would also mean trouble,” he remarked and my head tilted.

“Trouble?”

“Love, we have no way of knowing how much time he invested in this… situation. What I know from experience is that it is highly unlikely Cora of my world could play that kind of game, especially if she took him to her bed, and be convincing. Perhaps to a normal man but not one who is trained to scrutinize human behavior and is on the alert for the sake of his own safety and the success of his endeavors. I don’t think, after he devoted time and energy to his inquiry at the same time enduring her… limited charms… that he would be willing to cut his losses, as you put it.”

This made sense but I didn’t get it.

“I don’t get it.”

“He won’t be conceding. He’ll be watching you.”

Oh shit.

“Which means,” Tor carried on, “if we aren’t careful, me.”

Oh shit!

“Tor,” I whispered.

“Therefore, we must be careful,” Tor concluded.

“What if he’s already watching and he’s seen you?” I asked.

“Considering the uncomfortable feeling seeing another me gave me, and I knew he existed, I would surmise that we would know if this was the case already.”

I sucked in breath. Then I nodded.

“So what do we do?” I enquired.

“I don’t know. I need to think on it.”

I stared at his shadowed face. Then I nodded again.

He started righting both of us in the bed. “But to think clearly, I need sleep.”

I gently pulled away from his efforts to right me in bed.

He might need sleep but he wasn’t going to get it. At least, not for awhile.

“Cora?” he called.

I shoved my hand under the pillow and pulled out my nightie, saying softly, “Just a minute.”

Luckily, with only a searching look at me, he let it go. I pulled the nightie on while he rolled off the bed to disrobe. Then I sat on the side of the bed, took off my sandals and dashed to the bathroom to grab the white stick with the pink plus sign on it. Then I dashed out of the bathroom to the kitchen being certain not to look at him on the way and also trying not to hyperventilate because I was nervous. In the kitchen, I lit the two birthday candles on the top (one pink, one blue – he wanted a son but Lord knew, at this point, it was a fifty-fifty shot). Then I walked the cake slowly back to my room.

When I got close to the bed, I saw Tor was sitting up in it, his eyes I could see by the minimal candlelight were not on the cake. They were on me.

And they were burning.

“Love,” he whispered, his deep voice strange, like there was an ache in it.

I sat on the bed and held the cake between us. His eyes finally went to the cake.

Then they came back to mine and there it was. Definitely an ache.

“You did not need to do this to apologize,” he said softly then his eyes went back to the cake and I understood the ache. He was remembering the last time I walked into a room with one. “Especially not this,” he finished.

“Honey,” I replied quietly, “I didn’t make it as an apology. I made it for a celebration.”

He looked at me. “Pardon?”