The Undead Pool by Kim Harrison Page B

were closing them down, and it felt good. “My brother belonged to a young bowlers’ league. When my mom worked weekends, he had to watch me. If I promised to leave him and his friends alone, he’d buy me a lane at the outskirts where I could mess around.”
    Trent’s gaze went behind me to the last of the bowlers finishing their games. The cleaning staff was making inroads, but they wouldn’t shut the door for almost an hour. “Sounds lonely,” he said, dipping a fry.
    â€œNot really.” But it had been. He was looking at my mouth again, and I wondered if he wanted to kiss me.
    I dropped my head, and he shifted on the bar stool, the motion holding frustration.
    â€œThat was the best burger I’ve ever had to pay for,” he said to fill the silence. “I’m going to have to stop in the next time I’m in the area.”
    â€œWhen do you ever get out here?” I could look at him now that he wasn’t looking at me.
    â€œNever,” he admitted, his attention falling from the TV. “But I’d drive for this. Mmmm. The fries are good, too.”
    â€œYou should try them with ketchup,” I said, and then not knowing why, I pushed my basket toward him. There were a few fries in it, but it was the puddle of ketchup I was offering.
    â€œI have,” he blurted, eyes wide to look charming. “I mean, I do, but not in public.”
    I looked at his pointy ears, and he actually blushed.
    â€œRight,” he said, then dragged his fry through my ketchup, not meeting my gaze as he chewed.
    He used my ketchup, I thought, and something in me seemed to catch. “The good with the bad, yes?” I said, and when I lifted my pop, we clinked bottles. “Hey, I’m sorry about losing it today at the golf course. I should have handled that better. Bullies get the best of me.”
    Absorbed with his fries, he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It surprised me when he brought up my background. I’ll do better next time. I’ve got a response now and everything.”
    I took a swig of my drink and set it down. “Good luck remembering it. I always forget.” I wasn’t hungry, but I liked the idea of sharing a puddle of ketchup with him, and I ate one last fry. “It’s worth it, though, don’t you think? Not hiding?”
    â€œGod yes. I’ve not had to make any ugly decisions since Lucy came home.”
    His voice had softened, and it was easy to see the love for his child. I knew he loved Ray just as much even though she didn’t have a drop of his blood. Ray was Quen and Ceri’s child. Trent had only repaired her damaged DNA, but the girls were being raised as sisters, especially now that Ceri was gone.
    â€œSo they come back tomorrow,” I prompted, wanting to see more of that soft look.
    Trent nodded, the beer he’d nursed the last hour hanging between two fingers an inch above the bar. There was only one couple left at the lanes, the cook scraping the grill, and the guy at the shoe counter cleaning each pair before calling it a night. I liked Trent like this, relaxed and thinking of his kids, and I quashed a fleeting daydream. I couldn’t picture him in my church, living with the pixies, waking up in my bed. Stop it, Rachel.
    A siren wailed in the distance. It felt like a warning, one I needed to heed. I wasn’t attracted to Trent because Al told me to leave him alone. I liked Trent because he understood who I was and would still sit at a bar with me and eat french fries. And it ends tomorrow.
    â€œI’ll be glad when Quen gets back,” I said, eyes down.
    â€œOh? Has watching my back been that onerous?”
    â€œNo. It’s just that you take up a lot of my time.” And after tonight, I’m not going to have a damn thing to do.
    Trent set my basket atop his and pushed them both to the side, making no move to leave. “You definitely have a different style