3. Ward

Istopped in the lobby restroom to clean up before approaching the front desk of the hotel, but there was only so much paper towels and plain water could do for the blood staining my upper lip. I thought about using the hand soap to help, but no. That shit was nasty. I was a fucking international agent—if anyone had a problem with my appearance, they could bite me.

The clerk's eyes widened as I rejoined Devlin at the desk, but she quickly masked her reaction with a fake smile. "Welcome to the Howard. How can I help you?"

"Ward Sullivan, checking in." Was it me, or had the crowd in the lobby gotten larger since my foray into the restroom? The noise had certainly increased, which did nothing to help my lingering headache. Of course it was my luck that there'd be a convention or something happening the same time I was here.

"One moment, sir." She checked her monitor and the fake smile dropped. "Oh."

"What?"

"Well…" The smile was back, faker than ever. "Unfortunately, we don't have a room for you, sir."

I narrowed my eyes. "What does that mean?"

She gestured at the crowd behind me. "We're hosting an environmental science conference, starting tomorrow, and extra rooms were needed. So—"

"You gave my room away?"

"You won't be charged."

"I better fucking not be!"

A hand patted my arm and Devlin inserted himself into the conversation. He pulled off his beanie, revealing a messy dark brown fauxhawk. I wouldn't have thought that was his style, but it wasn't like I made a habit of evaluating that kind of shit.

"Hi, Tabitha," he said with a smile. It took me a second of thinking damn, it really was a small town if he knew her, before I realized she was wearing a name badge. "It must be super stressful today."

She melted. That was the only word for it. All the tension left her shoulders and for the first time, I saw a real smile on her lips that showed her crooked front tooth. "Unbelievably stressful. It's so nice of you to notice that."

"Mr. Sullivan is here on government business, and he needs a room. Is there anything you can do?"

She looked back at her computer screen, biting her lower lip. "I wish I could. I want to. I hate it when management decides this sort of stuff and then leaves it to us to break the bad news." When she looked up again, her eyes were swimming. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, none of that," Devlin said kindly. "We know it's not your fault. Would it help if I spoke to the manager?"

She shook her head, her lips quivering. "No. There truly aren't any rooms." Suddenly, her expression took on some hope. "I could call around for you? See if any other hotels have rooms? Or…he could stay with me?"

What the fuck? "No," I said flatly.

"But thank you," Devlin added. "I appreciate it."

"I want to fix this for you. What can I do?"

Devlin smiled kindly. "It's okay, Tabitha. It's not your fault. Good luck with the rest of the evening." With that, Dev grabbed my arm again and guided me toward the exit to the parking lot.

I glanced over my shoulder, noting Tabitha was watching us leave with a puzzled expression that echoed my own. Once we were outside, I jerked my arm out of Dev's grasp. "What the fuck was that? Was that a Canadian thing, offering up her own place?"

"No. That was a ‘me' thing." Dev grimaced, then sighed as he hopped up into his truck. I followed him. "People have to be nice to me when I talk to them."

"Bullshit." I certainly hadn't felt any urge to be nice to Dev for any reason.

My curse made him grin. "You're the one and only exception I've ever met."

Huh. I wondered if it had something to do with my messed-up, formerly fire-powered brain. "So she offered up her place because she wanted to be nice to you?" I wrinkled my nose. "That's dangerous shit, man."

"I know. I have to be careful when I'm interacting with people because they'll bend over backwards for me, even if I don't want them to."

"So why the hell are you up here in the middle of nowhere instead of being in a more active hub? Your talent…damn, it could've been extremely useful on some of the assignments I've been on."

Dev grimaced. "I don't think the veeps at headquarters like me much."

"I thought you said I'm the only one your mojo doesn't work on."

"Oh no, it works on them. That's why they don't like me."

Understanding dawned. "Got it. They have to be nice to you when they talk to you—does it work over the phone? Video call?"

He shook his head. "Only in person."

"So if you're up here and they assign you something, they don't fall under your spell. They can give you the shit jobs."

"Or ignore me. Which is what they usually do." He shrugged as he put his truck in gear, then checked over his shoulder before pulling out of the hotel's driveway, which had only gotten busier. "It's all right. I get it. My ability doesn't make someone actually like me, and usually afterward they're pissed off that they were so nice to me, especially if it's out of character. So it leads to resentment and dislike—"

"Which gets washed away the next time you speak to them in person." It was my turn to grimace. "Talk about a double-edged sword."

"Right?" He shot me a quick, self-deprecating grin. "I've got a guest room that's all yours if you want it. Or I could try to find you another hotel room, but I'll be honest, the Howard was the best of the bunch."

I leaned my head back on the seat, suddenly swamped with fatigue. It shouldn't have been surprising—I'd had a full day of travel, then used my weak-ass talent on top of it, plus the change in plans about the hotel. I hated when my plans changed so thoroughly. Staying with Dev wasn't ideal, but at this point, the thought of any bed, even a cot, was enough to make me whimper.

In my head, at least.

"So where's your place?"

"Outside of town, on Helen Lake." For the first time since I'd met him, Dev looked unsure. "It's nothing fancy."

"As long as it's got indoor plumbing and a bed for me, I'm good."

Suddenly his grin was back. "Watch out, Ward. You'll start to make me think you're actually easygoing."

I scoffed. "Fuck that noise. A comfy bed. With extra pillows."

Dev laughed, hearty and open, like he was used to laughing often. For an instant, the sound reverberated in my chest, as though it struck a chord of some sort. I wasn't sure if it was just me appreciating the male timbre…or something else. Envy?

Whatever the moment was, I pushed it aside. I was too damn tired to deal with it.

Oblivious to how his laugh had affected me, Dev said, "One comfy bed with extra pillows coming up. I've even got hot water for a shower."

"Well, now you're spoiling me," I grumbled, crossing my arms.

He laughed again, and I suspected that getting him to make that noise as often as possible was going to be a bit of an addiction.

Dev's place was a literal log cabin on the shore of Helen Lake, a few miles north of Nipigon. The final stretch of road leading to it was unpaved, and his laneway was little more than two well-packed ruts in the snow. He'd casually turned on 4x4 mode at some point, and the truck powered through the snow like it was on dry pavement instead.

My first look at his cabin took my breath away. It was the most picturesque thing I'd seen in real life. The rough-hewn logs, the snow-topped roof, the pine trees all around with their own snowy covering, a fire pit in a clearing near the lake, surrounded by Adirondack chairs bearing a few inches of snow themselves, and what looked like a well-used area for wood chopping in the front yard. Honestly, a marketing guru couldn't have staged a better picture for a tourism campaign. All that was missing was Dev himself, dressed in his lumberjack flannel, or maybe shirtless—

I rolled my eyes at the direction my brain went in. I was more tired than I thought if I'd gone there.

The interior of the cabin was as rustic as the outside, with one main room for the living, dining and kitchen areas, with a short hallway at the rear of the house leading to what I assumed were two bedrooms and a bathroom. Four large, paned windows—two on either side of the front door and one each on the side walls—let in an enormous amount of natural light, making the cabin bright and cheery instead of dark and den-like. The place was neat, but lived-in, showing signs of someone who'd left in a rush—there were a couple of plates and a coffee mug in the sink, unwashed, and another flannel shirt in royal blue and black was draped across the arm of the couch. The dining table had a map of the Nipigon area laid out on it, bearing a few marks in bright red ink. Given that one of them was roughly in the area of the Canadian Tire, I assumed these were locations of suspicious fires. Either Dev had been tracking things for awhile, or he'd worked his way backward when the snowbank was set on fire.

Dev gestured with one arm as he held the door open for me. "Come on in, make yourself at home."

"Thanks." It did feel homey, due to the comfortable-looking furniture and pictures decorating the wall. I spotted one with a younger Dev and a white-haired woman, shorter than him, in front of a sign sporting a dinosaur and Welcome to Drumheller, wherever that was. Another featured Dev with other equally fit-looking people his age on a ski trip, all of them wearing wide, joyous smiles. Family and friends, I guessed. There were also pictures of the scenery surrounding the cabin—one of a sunrise peeking through the trees over the cabin's roof, and another peaceful shot of mist rising off the lake.. Other than the overstuffed green-and-red plaid sofa and armchair, the furniture looked handmade—the coffee table, end table, and dining table, along with the two stools at the kitchen peninsula. There were a few knickknacks scattered here and there, from a plate with a candle and two massive pinecones to a couple of sandstone carvings.

The place had good vibes, I'd give him that.

"Guest room's the first door on the left, across from the bathroom. Go ahead and get yourself set up, if you like. Want a snack?" Dev toed off his winter boots, revealing super warm-looking wool socks, and padded over to the kitchen.

"Something easy would be great." I followed his example and took off my poor, sodden shoes. New gear was definitely on the agenda first thing tomorrow. "Okay if I have a shower?"

"Sure, go for it."

The guest room shared the same vibes as the living space—rustic, homey, lived-in. There was a desk with a laptop against one wall and the bed was only a double, so I guessed Dev didn't have many guests and probably used the space as a home office. Whatever. It was mine for the time being.

A shower to remove the travel grime and remainders of my nosebleed did wonders for my mood. That was to say, I was still as annoyed by the world as always, but less hateful of it for the moment. I pulled on a pair of sweats, a T-shirt and a sweater, and came out to the living area feeling clean, if not fully restored. A plate of cheese, crackers, rolled-up cold cuts and pickles was on the kitchen peninsula, along with a glass of water.

Dev grimaced when he saw my bare feet. "Ugh, no, that's not going to work."

I looked down automatically and wiggled my toes. "You got something against bare feet?"

"No," he said, brushing past me on his way down the hall. "But they're going to freeze. Let me get you some slippers."

"No, I'm—"

He returned, brandishing a pair of cozy-looking moccasins, and interrupting me with a gesture. "In this house, we wear slippers."

I crossed my arms. "Oh, do we."

He put them on the floor in front of me. "We do. Because we're in northern freaking Ontario, and no matter how much I stoke the woodstove, the floor is always cold."

He…wasn't wrong. I was already feeling the chill sneaking through the floorboards and throw rugs into my feet. I let out a disapproving breath and said, "Fine." As though the bit of care was a hardship for me to bear.

In a way, it was. It was so much easier to be pissed at the world rather than feeling kindly toward it, even if it was only one person in particular encouraging these soft, annoying feelings.

So I shoved my feet in the slippers and scowled at Dev, who was grinning widely from his stool.

"Better?" he asked.

I grunted rather than admit that yes, it was moderately better.

He made himself a bite-sized sandwich with a pair of crackers, a slice of what looked like sharp cheddar, and a cold cut of undetermined origin, and waved me over to join him. "There's beer too," he said. "I wasn't sure if you'd like one or not."

"Hell yes." Though the water was definitely needed too. I downed the glass in a few gulps, just in time for Dev to put an opened bottle of beer in its place. I set the drained glass on the counter, out of the way, and picked up the beer, which I held out for him to tap the neck with his own. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

We both drank, and the hoppy, wheaty taste soothed something in me. I grabbed a cracker and some cheese, and before I knew it, half the plate of snacks had disappeared into my gut, along with most of my beer, and I was feeling mighty mellow for a change.

Dev got up from his stool and replenished the plate. After a couple of awkward looks, he huffed out a breath. "Okay, look. I've gotta ask. Why did you stop being Firefox?"

I froze. I should have anticipated the question, especially since Dev had known who I was from the start. The only truly surprising thing was that he'd waited this long to ask. My pissed-offness warred with the guy I used to be—the one who'd been easygoing, eager to converse and share stories, and, above all, kind.

That wasn't me anymore.

I swallowed the rest of my beer. "Because," I snapped once I was sure my voice would come out without trembling.

Dev flinched like I'd slapped him. "Sorry. I guess it's a touchy subject?"

"One I don't owe anyone. Even if you're letting me stay in your guest room." I put the beer bottle back on the counter, harder than I needed to, and got up from the stool. "I need a nap."

It took effort to ignore Dev's kicked-puppy expression as I retreated to my room, but I managed it.