KEEPER?
Almost to the door, herding the Lord of the Dead up the stairs in front of her, Claire paused. “What?”
IF WE WERE CAPABLE OF GRATITUDE…
“I didn’t do it for you.”
NEVERTHELESS.
Backed up against the dishwasher, the goddess of love so close he could see her image in the reflection of his glasses in her eyes, Dean had no easy out. The room started to spin, beads of sweat formed along his spine, and he knew that in a moment he’d do something he’d be embarrassed about for the rest of his life. He wasn’t entirely sure what that was likely to be, but it certainly appeared that Aphrodite had a very good idea. Taking a deep breath, he dropped his shoulder, faked right, and moved left.
Fortunately, Aphrodite’s corseting insured that her reach impeded her grasp.
Distance helped. With the length of the kitchen between them, he began to regain his equilibrium although his jeans were still uncomfortably tight “The decaf’s in the pot on the counter there, ma’am. Help yourself.”
Tipping her cleavage forward, the goddess smiled. “You going to sweeten it for me, sugar?”
He pushed the sugar bowl toward her.
Her fingers lingered on his as she picked it up, and her expression segued from seductive to delighted. “Why, you’re just a big old…”
“Dytie!” Even from the second floor landing, Hephaestus’ voice carried. “Are you bothering that boy?”
“Why, yes, I do believe I am.”
“Well, stop it and come to bed!”
To Dean’s relief, she picked up her cup and turned to go, tossing a provocative, “Pleasant dreams, honeycake,” in his general direction. He had an uncomfortable feeling it wasn’t merely a suggestion.
Coming back downstairs from returning Hades to his wife, Claire stepped aside to let Aphrodite pass.
“You know, Keeper,” the goddess said, leaning close, “that boy of yours is a treasure.”
“Dean’s not mine.”
“Sure he is. Or he could be if you gave him a little bitsy bit of encouragement.”
“Encouragement?”
“You’re right.” She patted Claire on the shoulder with one plump hand. “He won’t understand subtle. Kick his feet out from under him and beat him to the floor.”
“Dytie! You coming?”
“Not yet darlin’, and don’t you start without me.” Adding a quiet “You remember what I said,” she sashayed on past and Claire descended the rest of the way to the lobby.
Hearing noises in the kitchen, she hurried down the hall. It could be a god getting a late night snack, but on the other hand, it could also be a god attempting a senile manifestation of ancient eldritch powers with catastrophic results. The odds were about equal.
“Oh. It’s you.”
Dean closed the dishwasher and straightened. “I couldn’t sleep without putting the dishes away.”
“Kick his feet out from under him and beat him to the floor.”
“Boss? You okay?”
She blinked and started breathing again. “Sorry. Just thinking of something Aphrodite said.”
His ears turned scarlet.
“That boy of yours is a treasure.”
“Are you okay? She didn’t…well, you know.”
To her surprise, his blush faded. “Would you care?” he asked, meeting her gaze.
“Of course I’d care. While you’re under this roof, you’re my responsibility and she’s…well, she’s a little overpowering. You wouldn’t have much choice. Any choice.”
“I’m not a kid,” he said quietly, squaring his shoulders.
“I know that.”
“Okay.” Eyes on his shoes, Dean moved toward the basement stairs. “I’m done here.”
“Lock your door.”
He paused and stared back at her, his expression unreadable. “Sure.”
Confused, Claire went to her own rooms, hoping that Jacques had been released from his attendance on Persephone. The way she was feeling, if he pushed her tonight…
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately since she knew she’d regret it in the morning, Jacques’ nightly petition had been preempted by a goddess.
Dean had a suspicion that a locked door would stop no one in the hotel except him. He locked his anyway.
Right about now, down at the Portsmouth, Bobby would be attempting to wrest control of the jukebox away from the inevitable crowd of country-western types. He’d be unsuccessful, and Karen would have to go over. They’d have finished talking about the news from home and begun making plans to go back. Mike would be suggesting Colin’d had enough to drink and Colin’d be telling Mike to mind his own business.
The same thing happened every Saturday night.
Lying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, Dean realized Claire hadn’t actually asked him to stay and cook dinner. They’d both simply assumed he would because it needed to be done.
That seemed to make him more than a mere employee.
What would Aphrodite have done if he hadn’t moved?
As more than a mere employee, did that give him…
Would she have done it right there in the kitchen?
…a chance to talk with Claire as an equal or would that whole Keeper thing…
So she was a bit older, but she was a goddess. She was probably a lot more flexible than she looked.
Claire was a bit older, too….
“Okay. That’s it.” That was as far as those trains of thought were merging. Closing his eyes, he resolutely counted sheep until sleep claimed him.
Next door, in the furnace room, Hell sighed.
“Claire. Claire, wake up.”
Pushing Austin’s paw away from her face, Claire grunted, “What is it?” without actually opening her eyes.
“I just thought you ought to know there’s a swan in your bathroom.”
“A swan?”
“A really old swan.”
“I am not going to sleep with you for a multitude of reasons, but for now, let’s just deal with the first two.” She flicked a finger into the air. “One, I am not even slightly attracted to poultry.” A second finger rose. “And two, you’re married.”
“Hera’s sound asleep.” Shaking off his feathers, Zeus stepped out of the bathtub; chest out, stomach sucked in over skinny legs. “We’re perfectly safe if no one wakes her up, and no one’s going to wake her up.”
Eyes closed, Claire missed seeing an orange something with yellow highlights speed out from under the sink and disappear through the open bathroom door. She groped for a towel and held a terry cloth bath sheet out in Zeus’ general direction. “Here. Cover up.”
When she felt him take it, she opened her eyes. Wrapped around his waist, the towel was a small improvement.
Leaning toward her, Zeus leered. “Would you prefer a shower of gold?”
“No.”
“An eagle?”
“No.”
“A satyr?”
“No.”
“A white bull?”
“I said no.”
“An ant?”
“You’re kidding.”
“Eurymedusa, daughter of Cleitus, bore me a son named Myrmidon when I seduced her in the form of an ant.”
“Must’ve been some ant.”
“Ant it is, then.” Before Claire could stop him, his features twisted, his eyes briefly faceted, and a hair from each eyebrow grew about three feet. Panting, he collapsed against the vanity. “On second thought…” His right clutching his chest, he flung out his left arm, the flesh between elbow and armpit swaying gently. “…take me as I am.”
Claire sighed. “Out of respect for your age and your mythology, I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t get out of my bathroom and go back to your own bed, you’re going to be very sorry.”
“I could call down the lightning for you,” Zeus offered, continuing to support his weight on the sink. “And with any luck it’ll strike more than once. Wink, wink, nudge…” The second nudge remained unvoiced as a violent banging on the door to Claire’s suite cut him off.