Dreamwalker, p.12
DreamWalker, page 12
Luke had looked at her like she was out of her freakin' mind. Clearly things were not okay. And she hadn't once mentioned live-in security. But he was smart enough not to butt in while she was talking. That would not have gone well.
She'd had to explain that her mother would have showed up and shooed Luke out of the house. It was bad enough that Yasmin lived by herself—her parents considered themselves fully born into the new age that they came around to the thought that it was acceptable for Yasmin to live in a house with other single women. But live by herself? It was shameful. It reflected badly, that she didn't have friends or wasn't able to keep a roommate. Who would want her?
Her continued unmarried state only bore out their dire predictions.
That Luke was staying here? Well, her mother might have had a heart attack.
Yasmin's police protection would have been shoved out the door and his soul prayed for. Then she wouldn't have been able to cast any protection spells because her mother wouldn't let her go anywhere alone—including work. In fact, her mother wouldn't let her work. They would have been praying to Allah for the souls of the gang members and for Yasmin's safety.
Yasmin had no doubt that her mother would take a bullet for her. But that wasn't at all what she wanted. And having her mother here would only make things worse. So she told them all she was fine. Which meant lying to Shori because Shori was such a bad liar that even just telling her sister would mean that her mother would turn up, prayer mat and a spare rolled and ready, armed with a bedrock belief that Allah would save her daughter.
Luke nodded and responded that there was a lot of that in his mother, too. Though apparently his had grown to accept his decisions and his belief that bullets stopped gang members maybe a little better than prayer.
Yasmin was grateful for his acceptance and even ended up defending her mother. "I believe in prayer. But I don't want her ways forced on me. I know she believes that I'm a lost soul in need of pressure to rejoin the herd, but I'm not."
There was something in the way he looked at her, the way he absorbed what she said—that made her think he understood on some fundamental level.
It was a good start to a good day. Now she soaked up the sunshine, safe behind her SPF, and picked up her dry cleaning, visited the library for an audiobook—hoping she might get the chance to go running one day again. At each stop, she let people move in line in front of her. She was in no hurry, just filling up her morning.
She could go to the shop and get ready for her class, but there would be plenty of time for that even after lunch. Given the big breakfast Luke had made her, she wasn't anywhere near hungry yet.
Traffic was as non-existent as it could be in L.A. and she had three hours to kill. She hit Target for supplies and before she knew it she was sitting outside the Humane Society building wondering if she was actually going to do this.
When she considered it, Yasmin had to admit that—though she could still back out and no one would be the wiser—she'd just spent too much money on a litter box, a collar, food, treats and too much paraphernalia. The decision was really already made.
She walked out an hour and a half later with her wallet lighter and her arms full of two small, black kittens, mewing at her and squirming.
"Babies! You have to go in the box."
The unnamed kittens did not agree. No wonder. They'd previously been neutered and gone home with someone only to be returned. As small as they were, Yasmin had to wonder at the center's policy that no animal went out the door without first being fixed. She understood it, but these guys were far too young.
It turned out that stuffing kittens into a box—even a box designed to hold much larger cats—was as hard as everyone said it was.
The woman at the shelter had expressed concern that these two wouldn't get adopted and Yasmin's heart had cracked. She not only now had a kitten, she had two of them. Somehow, in the process she'd become borderline late for work.
Driving through a burger place turned out to be harder when you had kittens caterwauling in the seat beside you. But she made it into her parking space and hauled her stuff inside ten minutes before she was due.
Libby looked up from a sale she was ringing and her mouth dropped into a perfect "Awwwww" at the sound and the sight of the house-shaped box with regular holes punched in the side.
Grinning, Yasmin set down both the bag with her lunch and the box and waited for the customers to leave before she released her new little sidekicks. But the customers waited for her, and Yasmin opened the box to much oooooh-ing and ahhhhh-ing over her new pets.
Even Tristan wandered out and checked out the scene. Kittens were climbing all over the customers in his store. Where Yasmin had been sure even fifteen minutes ago that he wouldn't mind—many L.A. stores had resident animals—she wasn't so certain now.
It turned out as long as the customers were happy, Tristan was fine with it and he went back into his office only coming out just before they got busy.
By the time six p.m. rolled around, Yasmin was wondering whether the kittens would even know to come home with her. They were handled by so many people that day how would they even know she was their "forever home"? She still had to teach her class and she was beginning to wonder if she'd need to hire a kitten-sitter or—God forbid—try to keep them in the box during class. Focus was the primary concern of new witches and focus would not be possible with her two adorable little distractors around.
She wasn't surprised by the nearly constant chime of the door as her students showed up. Many came relatively early and shopped a bit. While traffic and parking were always a concern, she taught them tricks early on and valued promptness. It became almost a weekly challenge to get the good parking spots in front of the shop.
Yasmin smelled him first. He was standing behind her and she was surprised that he was in her store. She turned, trying to find something to say and cataloging that it wasn't a cologne or anything specific, just a blend of all things Luke—a smell her brain had filed away some time before and pulled out last night in her dream. Forcing a smile, she tried to find words.
Her expression alone must have worked because he said, "I'm here to take the beginner's class."
Startled, she blurted, "Really?" Had he signed up? She vaguely remembered him commenting on it. Hadn’t she told him no? But when she looked at the clipboard in her hand and the list that Libby had printed up from in-store and website sign-ins there was the name Luke Salzone at number seven. She couldn't very well turn him down so she said, "Yes you are" and marked him present.
Then she had her hands full with students checking in and trying to play with her kittens. It was seven-thirty before she gave up trying to wrangle people and animals. She wasn't sure which was making more noise: the mewing kittens, the cooing students, or the few who were grumbling that they wanted to get started.
It was Luke who stepped up and said he'd take care of them. It took only seconds for him to leave his spot in the class and scoop a tiny kitten into each big hand and head out the door. While they had been crawling all over everyone and everything and begging for attention, they were disturbingly docile in Luke's grip. She wasn't sure if they were feeling safe or resigned, but they went quietly with him and she taught the class until fifteen minutes after time to make up for the late start.
It took another fifteen minutes to say goodnight and answer all the questions. Libby stayed, even though they officially closed at nine, ringing up sales. Yasmin knew that the extra sales showing after nine p.m. would make Tristan happy and she waited for her heart to twist at the thought.
It didn't—which only further solidified her theory that she was an idiot. She'd been in love with an idea with Tristan's face. The real Tristan was someone she wouldn't know what to do with.
Searching the store for Luke, she finally heard a tiny mew and followed the noise around behind the counter. She'd expected to find a wayward kitten having escaped from its box, instead she found Luke, sitting on the floor, nice work slacks covered in black hair. One kitten slept on his shoulder, head burrowed into his neck. The other rested on its back in his hand, Luke's other hand was giving the tiny kitten a belly rub.
Yasmin clamped down on her heart where it wanted to roll over in her chest. No, she was not falling for another guy that she didn't really know. A few nice facts and she stitched together a make-believe perfect man. Not again.
"Luke, thank you. It's time to go though."
"Okay." He looked up at her and smiled, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like he'd been on a three-day bender until he scrambled suddenly.
Yasmin was too late putting it all together. He'd grabbed a tissue he stashed at his side and sneezed.
"Oh Luke!" What a fool she'd been. "You're allergic."
"Just a touch."
Chapter 11
Luke's dreams had wandered into Yasmin's bedroom the night before for a second time. He'd had stable, steady relationships before and he had to admit he liked the camaraderie that went with it. He liked watching TV together and talking about anything and everything. Except he hadn't quite found a real 'anything and everything' yet.
Nicole hadn't liked anything he liked. Except in bed. And Reese had been completely compatible in everything and too competitive at all of it. She applied to be a police officer because he was and lorded every test score she beat him at and fumed or sulked when she didn't. Those had been his longest term relationships.
Though he and Yasmin had started out on shaky ground, they were settling into a rhythm. He was becoming much more at ease with the witchcraft and she was becoming more at ease talking to him about it. He figured it had just taken a handful of days for him to be confident that she wasn't going to give him a tail or turn him into a toad. Though he wasn't at the point where he would lay money on her ability to actually turn him into something else, he wouldn't lay money against it either.
She listened to him when he talked. She took it to heart when he'd scared her about the Del Surs and he felt bad about that still, but staying alive was more important than ignorant bliss.
Her apologies last night about bringing home animals he was allergic to were incredibly sincere. She even volunteered to take them back to the shelter and berated herself for being thoughtless.
He'd grabbed her by her upper arms when she'd about worked herself into tears and made her face him. "It's your house, you can bring in any animals you want. They make medicine for this. I'll just take something."
"I have Benadryl."
He was already grinning but too late he had to fight off another sneeze. Good thing he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with her—this was not manly. "Can't take it, my job is to be alert."
"I'm so sorry, Luke." Her shoulders sagged and so did her smile.
"I'll be fine by morning." Had she been his girlfriend he would have held her. Kissed her to reassure her. Had she been his girlfriend she probably would have known that he was allergic. So he settled for helping her find a place for the cat litter—the laundry room—and training the cats where it was—not as simple as he would have thought.
Then he sat on the living room rug and played with them regardless of how much his eyes watered.
Yasmin was grinning at him. "You like cats?"
"I like the ones that are friendly. I think if you get them little you can kindof make them that way. Then they're good pets."
She nodded before saying what she'd clearly been thinking. "I figured you for a dog guy. Aren't dogs manlier?"
"Real men don't like cats?"
She nodded. And he reminded himself that she was not his girlfriend, despite the way he'd touched her in his dreams. Despite the way he wanted her even when he was awake.
"Would you rather I ignored them? They're small creatures." He shrugged. "Any creature that needs help defending itself should have someone watching out for it."
As he watched, she seemed to absorb the words. "Like a woman who has a gang after her?"
He couldn't fight the sigh. "Yes. But one day it might be me. Maybe you’ll have to make a forcefield around me and stop a bullet. But while I have the opportunity, I try to stand up where I can." He held the kitten in front of him. It dangled there, looking him in the eyes but not looking uncomfortable.
"That's why you're a cop."
He nodded but changed the subject quickly. "I didn't see this coming. Two kittens. What prompted it?"
She laughed. "I had to stay out of the house this morning. And it was something I always toyed with. You know, 'one day when I get a cat'—that kind of thing." She stroked the silky fur of the still unnamed kitten in her lap. "Then I got there and these two had been returned. They said they didn't know in this case but it happened a lot because someone turned out to be allergic." She looked sheepish at the thought.
"I'll be fine tomorrow." He waved her off. "You don't think it's because they're black?"
Both kittens were inky from their ears to the tip of their tails. "What does that have to do with it?"
Luke stared. How did she not know this? "Black cats are harder to adopt out and more likely to suffer abuse. They are three times as likely to be the victims of violent death at the hand of a sick human."
Her jaw was open. "Why?"
His was almost open, too. He spoke slowly. "Because of their known associations with witches. You're really embracing the stereotype here, Yasmin."
As he watched, she realized what she'd done, and he couldn't help throwing his head back and laughing. Then he couldn't help the sneezing fit that overtook him.
By the time he got himself together, she was laughing, too. And feeling bad for him. He'd taken some medication the second he walked in the door, but it wasn't helping yet. It didn't make things better that he was holding and petting the little fuzzy kittens then rubbing his face every time he sneezed, it was a self-perpetuating cycle. Until Yasmin grabbed both the kittens and put them in her room with the little bed she'd bought. The cat bed held both of them with room to spare.
She found him in the bathroom washing his hands and face and his hands again. As he dried himself off and she apologized yet again for not asking if he was allergic, he thought again that if she was his girlfriend, he'd kiss her now. He would tell her he'd always be allergic to cats, but he'd acclimate to these two and that it would be all right. So when actually she told him he had to take his shirt off his thoughts were somewhere else.
For a second or two he really thought she was starting something. Though his brain told him it was a bad idea, he wasn't able to say no. He started with the top button, working slowly while he tried to figure out what was going on when he hit yet another hiccup with her next words.
"Pants, too. In fact, you should just get out of everything."
He turned away because her words were turning him on. But the next time she spoke it was like cold water.
"I'll grab you something else to put on, and you can just hand all this out to me. I'll de-lint it and get it to the dry-cleaners for you."
Ah, cat hair. She was taking care of him.
That was all.
He reminded himself again that last night had been only a dream, regardless of how clear the memory was. The doorstop had been exactly at the same pencil mark where he'd wedged it again—a block of wood as his protection against witchcraft. Silly though it was, it offered peace of mind.
Yasmin showed up in the doorway once more, this time having changed into tiny sweatpants shorts and a loose top. "I'm trying not to get any cat hair in your room, so I changed before I went in." She laid out his pair of drawstring pajama pants across the sink then closed the door, telling him to just leave his clothing where it fell.
It was an elaborate dance that didn't leave him with any rights he didn't have before. It did leave him shirtless walking past her down the hallway, but her smile was kind, not hot, and the kittens were wailing behind her bedroom door.
In the past, the women he slept with liked his physique, but he was never overly self-confident. Some women liked really buff, ripped guys and he was never going to have the time to achieve that. He was in good shape, but not arrogant—who knew what Yasmin thought was most attractive in a man? He was never going to be that guy that bragged how he was God's gift all the time.
Besides, he was here in a professional capacity. He reminded himself that again. And again. Ignoring what he wanted to do, he put a shirt on. It was harder to ignore the kittens.
She was behind him in the bathroom doorway, carefully rolling one of those tape-thingies over his clothing and picking up enough black kitten fur to make him want to sneeze just looking at it. She caught him staring at her bedroom door, listening to the plaintive wails coming from behind it. "They have to calm down and rest. The lady at the shelter told me they'd likely cry and they could do it early or they could do it while I was trying to get to sleep."
He only nodded. It wasn't the only reason he was looking at her bedroom door.
"Pick something on TV and I'll be out in a minute."
It sounded so domestic that while he waited he imagined it was more than it was. Then he played into it. "I've got that dinner at my Mom's this Sunday night. You should come. You've been forced out of your house enough while I'm out. And my mom's a great cook."
"She won't mind a random person just showing up?"
"You're not random, you're my guest, and trust me, no one will notice an extra mouth. There are so many of us."
Her face scrunched up for a minute and the thought she was going to refuse, instead she asked, "You're all Catholic, right? How big are they on that whole 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live' thing?"
He laughed. "It has never come up before. But my mother hasn't got a mean bone in her body. It's up to you what you tell her, but worst case scenario, she'll fear for your eternal soul and light a candle for you every day. Then she'll ask me if I've converted. All this will be very dramatic. But that's about it."
"I generally don't bring it up if people don't ask, but if they do, I answer honestly." She looked at him, clearly wondering if this would fly in his big Italian family.
