Lila soon understood where Chef had led her. When Lila’s shoulders slumped in recognition, Chef stopped giving her directions at all.
“I hate you,” Lila grumbled. While the Adessi bobbled and bounced down the pock-marked road, she couldn’t help but feel as though Chef’s insistence about the trip was awfully convenient.
“Maybe you hate me now, but soon you’ll have your cookies, and you’ll forget all about the rest.”
“Not likely.”
“Fudge too?”
Lila considered the offer. “How much fudge?”
The pair soon found themselves in the middle of nowhere, the horizon obscured by thick patches of cedar and ash. Wild, dry undergrowth lurked below the trees.
Lila parked on a disjointed, broken slab of cement marked with faded yellow paint, her Adessi sandwiched among several dozen other cars. The engine spat and hissed in the quiet as she took out the key.
She grabbed a bag of baked goods and followed Chef toward the trailhead past a sign that read Home of the New Bristol Oracle. A pair of wings attached to an eye had been painted above it, serving as the coat of arms for all American oracles.
They’d have to hike a kilometer before they even reached the temple.
“I have a High Council meeting this evening. I’ll come back for you later,” Lila said, hoping the reminder would work. She didn’t know what was happening, but she didn’t like it.
“It’ll only be a moment, dear. I just need to drop a few things off.”
“I’ll wait back at the car, then.”
Chef stopped and narrowed her eyes. “Elizabeth Victoria Lemaire-Randolph, you’ll help me carry these offerings to the temple, or you’ll get your lunch from the security office from now on. Do you hear me?”
Lila frowned. It wasn’t often the good-natured Chef threatened her, especially when her threats were empty. “Insufferable woman,” she grunted, not sure which woman she meant.
“I know what you and your mother think of the oracles, but don’t you dare embarrass me in there. Just think of the cookies and fudge.”
Lila clutched her bag and hiked over mismatched and uneven stones in the muggy heat. She’d always hated the hike, not because it was particularly hard, but because she thought it was horribly unfair to people like Sergeant Jenkins. Though she heard the oracles sometimes made house calls, Lila suspected they only did it for a generous donation.
Soon, the pair reached the dock.
They weren’t the only ones waiting for the rowboat this afternoon. A young couple sat on the end of the dock, their shoeless feet skimming the water. They’d intertwined their fingers, murmuring softly to one another, stealing la
nguid kisses before they glimpsed Lila and Chef.
Soon to be married, by the looks of them.
For a brief moment, Lila wished that she were back in Tristan’s apartment, just so she could lie on his bed again, stealing kisses, stealing more. When would things begin for them? Why were things taking so long?
Why hadn’t she just taken what she wanted?
Because he was workborn? Because she didn’t know what he wanted? Because she was too used to reaching for someone who reached for her as well? Because he might want more from her than she could give?
It wasn’t just about sex with Tristan, and it had frozen her.
Perhaps they needed to have a talk, a long talk, about why she kept going over to his place and spending the night with no climax to the evening, a talk about what he actually wanted.
Tonight. When she went over to his place after the council meeting, they’d have it out.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, Lila realized that the thought of not going to see him had never entered her mind. Things were moving too quickly and too slowly with Tristan all at the same time. She’d never let someone get under skin like this before.
She didn’t like the feeling. She didn’t like it one bit.
Her palm vibrated, and she swiped the screen. How’s your day going, Prolix?