Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(15)
Rose chuckled. “Magic, huh?”
“Yeah … because the only time Damian’s not a complete grump is when he’s here working.” Terrance laughed, laughing harder when Damian grabbed a nearby horse blanket and threw it at his head.
Damian watched Rose walk away, wearing the dingy overalls and those too-big rubber boots as she followed the teen out toward the back paddock. Once that problem was out of sight, it was time to focus on the one made even more dire with their new cantankerous addition.
Money.
He’d already revamped the sanctuary’s budget more times than he could count and still came up empty. No solution. No plan. Even if a second job dropped in his lap and he found the time to work it, they were all out of luck.
And funds.
As he performed a visual—and distant—physical assessment of Jasper, Damian couldn’t help dwelling on the fact that in all the years he’d Hunted, he’d never had difficulty scraping two nickels together. The money had poured in, especially when he’d made a name for himself by bringing in the difficult cases. The upper-level demons. The high-caste warlocks. Feral shifters. Targets most Hunters wouldn’t dare take on unless they had a death wish.
Teenage Damian hadn’t only loved the challenge. He’d devoured it until Hunting became his thing … the only thing he was good at and the only thing that gained him even an ounce of his demon father’s approval. Rules didn’t stop him. What few relationships Damian had had outside of the Hunting world suffered … but none more than the one he’d had with his Norm side.
The more he embraced his inner demon, the less Damian saw of Damian. He hadn’t been fully aware of precisely how off-track his life had gotten until he faced the wrath of a pissed-off teenage witch and earned himself his very own hex.
That was his wake-up call. And finally, after years of Hunting, he realized he had two choices: give up his humanity to become one of the volatile lowlifes he Hunted, or hold on to it with everything he had. Thanks to Miguel coming into his life, he’d chosen option number two.
“Don’t know exactly what’s going through that head of yours, but we’ll find another way.” Miguel’s callused hand landed on his shoulder in a supportive squeeze. “We always do.”
“I’m not so sure we’ll be as lucky this time.” Damian scrubbed a hand over his face, so tired he could sleep sitting upright and with his eyes open.
“Something will come our way. You just have to make sure you don’t overlook opportunities as they arise.”
A soft chuckle sounded behind Miguel.
Rose stood, dressed in her barn-chic overalls, and grabbed the nearby wheelbarrow they used for stall-mucking. “That sounds suspiciously like my grandma’s life motto.”
“I think I’d like your grandma.” Miguel smiled.
“Most people do … or they’re too scared of her to act otherwise.” Rose glanced between them. “But I couldn’t help but overhear a little bit, and I think I could help.”
Damian bristled. “We don’t need the brand of help you’re offering.”
Spine stiffening, she threw her gloved hands onto her hips. “And exactly what help do you think I’m offering?”
“The kind that comes with strings attached to wealthy people with deep pockets.” He shot her a knowing look that had her frown deepening. “That’s what you were about to suggest, right? Begging.”
“It’s not begging. It’s fundraising. And I’ve done it before for charities all over the city … including Vi’s children’s center. I’m sure I could design a plan to help the sanctuary.”
“We’ll be fine without peddling our sob story around town. Sorry, little witch, but your friends will have to find someone else to help make themselves feel better about themselves. We don’t need charity.”
Rose glanced at a too-quiet Miguel. “Is he always this stubborn?”
“I’d like to say no, but I can’t.” Miguel turned his frown on Damian. “It couldn’t hurt to hear her ideas.”
“I don’t need—or have the time—to hear anything. Animals need tending to.” Damian ran his gaze over her from head to toe, and tugged his inner asshole to the surface. “Besides, I doubt you’ll be here long enough to see a plan through.”
Needing to be anywhere that wasn’t right there in the middle of the barn, Damian brushed by Miguel and Rose, and headed out into the open air.
He was a jerk. A big one. And nothing made that more evident than when he felt vulnerable and there was someone around to witness it.
Especially if that someone was Rose Maxwell.
Besides … if she hated him, she’d keep her distance. And that was definitely best for them both.
5
Save a Cowboy, Ride a Broomstick
Windows down, music blasting, Rose navigated the Belt Parkway at a speed that would make an Indy racer proud, but so was everyone else on the road. It was keep up or get mowed over on the massive highway that went from Sunset Park in Brooklyn to Cambria Heights.
She glanced at the dashboard clock and cursed, picking it up another five miles per hour and praying the state police had fulfilled their monthly ticket quota.
James, her supervisor at Ryde, was already on her case about taking too long to pick up her last two clients. A third time might send him into an actual tizzy.