The Dirt on Ninth Grave by Darynda Jones

A supernatural arsonist.īy the time Cookie turned for a look-see, her arms full of plates, he’d shifted and put his hand down. Still, I had to be sure we weren’t all about to be burned alive. His touch left a trail of soft flames in its wake, as though he were igniting the wood beneath his hand. While he scanned his phone with one hand, the other rested absently beside his plate, his fingertips drawing lazily on the smooth surface. “Do you see that?” I asked her, nodding toward Reyes.Ī velvety fire licked over his skin, the undulating waves mesmerizing. Other than the occasional hiccup, however, we performed like a pit crew at the Indianapolis 500 despite our differences.Ĭookie walked up to grab a couple of plates off the pass-out shelf. A well-oiled machine with one tiny clink: a loose cog named Cookie. Erin, the server who despised the fact that I dared to breathe air, and Francie, the server who pretended not to despise the fact that I dared to breathe air but who I suspected was right there with Erin, hurried past me for this or that, and the lunch crew behaved like a well-oiled machine. Far too dangerous to approach.Ĭookie took off to do God knew what. All that was more of a… a caveat for something I most definitely did not want to happen. Of him following me to the storeroom, pressing his body into mine, pulling my skirt up and my panties down so he could bury himself inside me.

I would never entertain the idea of us hooking up. I couldn’t blame any of them, but it did up the competition. Even a businessman sitting alone pretending not to be interested in tall, dark, and delicious. There were a lot of customers in general, and they all seemed exclusively focused on one customer. “Is it just me, or are there a lot of women in here?” Cookie asked, closing out her order. I would’ve thought December a far cry from tourist season. And they seemed to be getting doozier every day. As far as rush hours went, this was a doozy. Cookie was busy tapping in orders, too, her nails clicking on the screen. I wound my way back to the server’s station to put their orders in and ran into my oldest and dearest friend.

The Dirt on Ninth Grave by Darynda Jones