Just His Taste by Candice Gilmer Page B

part, very unsure about it.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œIt’s Tessa,” she said, her voice low.
    â€œWhat is going on?”
    â€œI need another date.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    She sighed. “You have a tux?”
    â€œUh—” He had one. He thought. Maybe.
    â€œIt’s black tie.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œWell, do you or not? I need this,” she snapped.
    â€œYeah, I have a tux. What’s going on?”
    â€œFundraiser for the mayor. I can’t go to the fundraiser without a date.”
    â€œKinda late, isn’t it?”
    â€œLook, I just…the thing is—”
    â€œIs what?”
    â€œLucas will be there. I just can’t go alone, when I know he’s going to be bringing some floozy to the fundraiser.”
    Jason sighed. “You know, maybe it’s time you moved on. Let him see how awesome you are without him.”
    â€œYou think I’m awesome?”
    â€œSure. Anyone would.”
    â€œThank you.” Clattering through the phone told Jason she’d switched sides, and must have been wearing big earrings. “Now, about tonight.”
    â€œYes, I’ll come. When and where?”
    â€œCan I pick you up at five?”
    â€œThat early?”
    â€œThere’s a dinner.”
    â€œOh.”

Chapter Twelve
    Ava watched her charge from a distance. She still wasn’t allowed to leave the healers’ ward. They said maybe she could today, but so far no one had come in and dismissed her. She was anxious to get down there and really see if her charge was okay.
    Yeah, that was what she told herself. It didn’t have anything to do with him personally, and wondering if he…
    Well, if he thought about their little moment together.
    â€œStop it,” she muttered to herself, and focused on her crocheting. Six unfinished stocking caps hung in midair, crochet hooks paused in the hats, waiting for her to continue with the one in her lap. It resembled the dancing brooms in Fantasia —as she worked, the hats making themselves, all mimicking what she did.
    But it passed the time.
    So she had a weird hobby. Everyone did. Ava crocheted. But one of the bonuses of being a fairy was she could make seven stocking caps at a time, instead of one. It was awesome when she was making an afghan with different pieces. She could crochet a bunch of pieces at once, and it took no time to finish the blanket.
    Over the centuries, she’d mastered the art of tackling multiple projects. Even now, the simple stocking hats would all be adorable, but she didn’t give them to her friends.
    They’d probably never believe that she rode motorcycles, wore leather bodysuits and crocheted hats.
    How’d that song go?
    One of these things doesn’t match the other…
    Something like that, anyway.
    So, as Ava resumed her shell pattern—chain one, double stitch, half stich, double stitch, chain—the other needles moved, and each stocking cap continued. So adept at this, she could crochet and watch her charge on the little screen she’d opened. At least she’d know if Cupid had started shooting arrows at Jason.
    So far, no arrows that she’d seen.
    Didn’t help she was about to go nuts, stuck in here. She wouldn’t put it past Cupid to take advantage of her being unavailable.
    Why did I spend any time with that jerk? It didn’t make sense. She would be mad at him, and wind up still going back to his place, or him to hers.
    He was the God of Love, but still, that didn’t explain why he would have such a pull on her. She needed to get back to her job. Do what she was supposed to be doing instead of worrying about Cupid’s shit.
    â€œI need to get back at it,” she muttered as she watched Jason’s day. He’d gotten an early phone call from Tessa. Then he’d gone out, taken pictures of a young lady and headed over to his office—a little suite he shared with another private