With that in mind, he grabbed the bottle of wine, still beautifully dressed up with ribbons, and carried it downstairs. When he saw Harry, Simon walked over, put the expensive bottle of wine on the desk in front of him. “Harry, this is for you and your wife. Happy anniversary to you both.”
Harry looked at him in shock, staring at the wine in awe. “Oh, my God, that’s got to be a couple hundred bucks.”
Simon snorted. “It’s a hell of a lot more than that, but wine is only good for drinking. Please don’t just put it in the cupboard and admire it. I want you and your wife to enjoy it, every last drop.” And, with that, Simon lifted his hand in a wave and headed out. In the distance, he could still hear Harry’s profuse thanks ringing in his ears, which was a nice change compared to the noise that had been driving him batty earlier. But thankfully that seemed to have stopped, and he felt so much better.
As he raced outside, he picked up the pace and dashed off into the night. Almost immediately his sense of smell came alive, like a wave of some strong sweat or body odor slamming into his brain. Shuddering, he ran faster and faster, and the smell just seemed to chase him down the street. He ran until the demons could no longer get him.
Chapter 9
Kate went forjudo practice after work. It’s almost as if her instructor had seen that she had been playing it safe each and every time, and tonight he decided to kick it up a notch. But he hadn’t forewarned her, and, by the time she was done, she laid on the mat, gasping for air.
He reached a hand down and pulled her to her feet. “That was much better.”
She shook her head. “That was deadly.”
But she felt like a million bucks by the time she’d made it home. Exhausted, worn out, and basically brain-dead, but her heart hummed with joy, her muscles were pumped with power, and even her skin had cooled down and felt enlivened. She didn’t know how the hell it worked, but she felt better than she had in a very long time. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but she’d take it because, dammit, something good must be found in all this.
As she walked in, she headed straight for the shower and, when she came back out with a towel wrapped around her, she was hungry. Except she had yet to go grocery shopping. No food was in her house, and, although she could pick up food, the last thing she wanted to do was even get dressed, much less leave again. So ordering in was her only option.
When her phone buzzed, she groaned, then looked at it to see a message from Simon, saying he was on his way over.
She shook her head at that. “What if I don’t want to see you?”
The trouble was, she did want to see him. She hated to say it—but she had this fear of starting something she would end up getting hurt over. A fear of starting something she couldn’t even begin to open up enough to complete. And he had the ability to affect her on a very deep level.
Grabbing a sports bra, a pair of leggings, and a sweatshirt, she dressed quickly. That was as far as she would go. She put her hair into a braid. She padded barefoot to the door, opening it just as he arrived there, preparing to knock. He looked at her attire in surprise. “I just came back from a workout. I’d barely gotten out of the shower when you texted.”
“Good, at leastyougot a shower. I feel like I’m running from demons.”
“You and me both.” She shook her head at not only the synchronicity of his visit but of his wording. “Come on in.” Then she stopped, sniffed the air. “Oh, my God, food. What is that?”
“I’m not even sure,” he said half apologetically. She frowned at him. He shrugged. “My doorman said that a new Portuguese restaurant had opened around the corner, just a few blocks from my place. So I went for a run and stopped to pick up some takeout, and somehow I ended up here.”
She smiled. “And you know what?Somehowyou ending up here works for me too. After my workout, I needed to eat, but I still haven’t bought groceries—and the last thing I wanted to do was go shopping tonight. So takeout delivered by you is perfect.”
“It seems so, but, in this case, I had no idea what to order, so it will be an experience,” he said, stepping in. “Grab the plates. I’m starving.”
She laughed and raced into the kitchen and pulled out a couple plates, while he put the bag on the counter. As he opened it, she watched him rear back. “Is it hot?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, it’s hot, but I’ve had the weirdest set of symptoms these last few days.”
“Are you sick?” She stopped where she was.
He looked over at her. “No, and I’m not contagious.”
She shrugged. “It’s probably too damn late if you are anyway,” she muttered. “That night was probably still within your infectious period, if it’s a contagious thing…”
He snorted at that. “If that’s what you call it.”
“It is what I call it, but, if you’re not sick, all the better.”
“I’m not sick at all. When I saidsymptoms, I just meant—” He stopped, hesitated. “Never mind. Just more weirdness.”
“So normal for you, so go ahead,” she said, bugging him good-naturedly.
He just rolled his eyes at her.
“Come on. Tell me what’s up.” She pulled out the containers. They had cardboard tops on them, so she had no idea what was inside, and, when she pulled out more, she sniffed the air appreciatively. “Whoa, what an aroma. So what is this anyway?”