A Deal with the Devil (The Grumpy Devils, #1)

by Elizabeth O'Roark

“Are you...are you wearing my date’s dress?” he asks, horrified. The silver lining to having nothing left to lose is that...I have nothing left to lose. “Do you like it?” I whisper, raising nervous, hopeful eyes to him. “I disposed of her, just like you asked.”

“Why can’t I just want to be an assistant?” I ask. “Or a bartender?” “Because you seem like someone destined for more,” he says quietly.

“Well, I hope he didn’t tell you too much. I’d like to sustain the illusion of having my shit together a little longer.” “Have you seen the car you drive?” he asks. “I never thought you had your shit together.” I laugh. He’s awful, and I like that about him.

“I’m sorry. You can spit in my coffee tomorrow if it’ll make you feel better.” I smile. “I spit in your coffee every day. It’s not as exciting as you’d think.”

Under that beautiful, careless exterior of his lies a heart far larger than anyone out back realizes, and it’s been a very long time since someone has offered to take care of me, hasn’t simply assumed I’d figure it out.

“Because,” I say, unable to meet his eyes, “everyone in your life seems to take something from you, and that’s not what friends do. I guess I’d rather be your friend.”

“Tada!” I cry, arms wide as we walk beneath the faux-stone entry to Harry Potter World. “We’re here. Doesn’t it remind you of home?” His teeth sink into his lip as he takes in the rides and shops. “Ah, yes, Ye Olde Butterbeer Kiosk. There was one on every corner growing up.” I roll my eyes. “Fine. Don’t show your gratitude. And here I was about to selflessly convince you to buy us both a wand and golden snitch. Which would also remind you of home. I know how you Brits love wands and quidditch.”

“I wish my husband would look at me the way he looks at you,” Linda whispers. “Like he could be completely content if he never had to look at anything else.”

I hand him his coffee. “I didn’t spit in it today. To thank you for taking care of me.” He laughs. “You’ve made that joke enough times that I’m forced to assume there’s some truth to it.”

“I saw her photo on Jonathan’s desk and started looking for her all the time, because she worked at this bar I’d pass on my way home,” he says. Weirdly…it doesn’t sound like a lie. “I saw her reading while she was walking in, even though it was raining. And I thought she was the loveliest thing I’d ever seen in my life, so I followed her.”

“Have you expressed these feelings to everyone before?” asks Dr. Shriner. “I didn’t think I had to!” I cry. “I thought maybe they already knew I’m a human being with wants and needs of my own, but apparently that has to be pointed out. And I also thought things would eventually sort themselves out. But they don’t seem to be.”

“You’re sure?” he asks. “You haven’t even seen the ring yet.” “It doesn’t matter what the ring looks like,” I reply. “Jonathan said the diamond was too big,” he says. “I suggested you quite like big things.” I laugh shakily. “Did you really just allude to your dick in a marriage proposal?” “You already said yes,” he says with a quick grin, as he pulls my mouth to his. “You can’t take it back.”