Loving and Loathing Vegas (2 page)

Vegas patted Jackson’s hair like a kitten. “But I’d miss you,” he said, pouting his lips.

Jackson peeled himself off the pristine checkerboard tile floors. He pointed a finger, nearly touching the tip of Vegas’s nose. “You know that isn’t the slightest bit attractive.” Jackson scowled and scuffed his feet on the floor. His black Crocs looked just as spotless as the empty diner. “So. About falling in love… with each other?” Jackson asked shyly. Timidity wasn’t in incubi nature, but where Vegas was concerned, Jackson couldn’t help going weak in the knees.

“No, no, of course not.” Vegas laughed.

A shot of anguish hit Jackson directly in the heart. He shivered as Vegas thoughtlessly destroyed any chance they had at love.

“With others.” Vegas smiled. “You need a date and I need a date, by Christmas.”

“Christmas?” Jackson asked after pulling himself together and sweeping up the crumbs of what remained of his shattered heart. He clenched his jaw. “Why Christmas? Are you aware it’s Thanksgiving? That’s only a month. And are you missing something
super
important?” Jackson gestured furiously to Vegas and then to himself, specifically to their crotches.

Vegas pulled a frown and narrowed his eyes. “Yes. We’re demons. We can still celebrate.” He smiled brightly. “It’s romantic, don’t you think?”

Jackson had no idea what flavor Kool-Aid Vegas had drunk today, but it sure as hell wasn’t the “angel tears” wine coolers.

“One condition,” Jackson commanded.

“Uh-oh. Here comes the angry face.” Vegas shrugged. “Lay it on me.”

“You don’t seduce the New Age guy.” Jackson wasn’t jealous. Nope. Nuh-uh.

Vegas pressed his lips in a thin line. “He has a name.”

“Moonbeam Rainbow-whatsit,” Jackson mumbled out of the side of his mouth.

“That’s not his name.” Vegas crossed his arms.

Jackson groaned in frustration. “That’s my condition. We need to level the playing field. You’ve been flirting with the guy.”

Vegas’s eyes widened. “I have not. He’s just nice!”

“And weird.”

“Jackson!”

“Well,” Jackson muttered. “He is.”

Vegas smirked. “Jealous.”

Jackson felt himself flush head to toe with embarrassment. “No, I’m not!”

Taking a step back, Vegas smiled softly. “Cool your jets. It’s okay. I get it.”

“You do?” Jackson asked, uncertain. There was no way Vegas could have. He cleared his throat, faking confidence. “Of course.”

“You haven’t been seeing anyone. So it’ll make it even.”

Jackson wasn’t going to question Vegas agreeing. His fake confidence grew into true confidence. “Yes. It’s a bet.”

“You have to fall in love by Christmas,” Vegas said, extending a hand.

“Deal.” Jackson planted a high five in Vegas’s palm, and they exchanged a series of claps and gestures, concluding in a fist bump.

They watched each other for a moment, and Jackson arched a brow. Vegas was on the verge of saying something. His eyes lit up in just a way that suggested so. Instead, he yawned wide and stretched with an overdone arch of his back.

Jackson’s mouth ran dry at the flex of Vegas’s spine. His libido pinged in the back of his mind. It was a blessing that he could at least control it and hide his body’s attempt to betray him. He couldn’t hide it for long, though, and his closest chance to get relief was the public restroom. In the off chance a customer miraculously walked in, Jackson would never hear the end of it for shirking his responsibilities.

“Anyway,” Vegas said, cutting through Jackson’s sensuous thoughts. “I’m gunna take out the trash, and we’ll close up for the night.”

“Thank fuck,” Jackson said, pumping his fist victoriously.

Vegas turned to head back into the kitchen. “Get the floors mopped and count the till.”

“But the floors are perfect and we haven’t had a single sale.” Jackson sighed.

Vegas winked at him over his shoulder. “Sisyphus.”

Instead of arguing, Jackson headed for the custodial closet. “I’m so over this human-suffering bullshit.”

“Then win the bet,” Vegas called from the kitchen.

Jackson nodded as he pulled out the mop and bucket. He hefted the bucket to the sink and turned the faucet, watching the water pool in the dingy, stained container. He’d show Vegas.

He started mentally planning their vacations. Tahiti first. Then Thailand. Then Tasmania. He would work them through all the T’s first. Just because Tahiti came first in his top vacation lists.

The back door opened and then slammed. Jackson listened to Vegas’s shuffling around the dumpster. Scaring away the stray cats, as usual. Or feeding them. Jackson had seen bowls of chicken out there more than once.

Vegas had seriously gone soft among the humans. He turned into a baby-talking goober around newborn bunnies. Where was that hot, hard demon lover in the sack? The one who could put the Conqueror bent on conquest to shame?

“Jackson!” Vegas hollered from outside. “Jackson! I need you!”

And damn didn’t Jackson need Vegas.

“Hurry up!”

The panic in his tone had Jackson out the door in less than five seconds.

Vegas stood over a pile of trash bags, staring wide-eyed. He hesitantly put his hand to his mouth and then pulled it away again when he realized he’d been touching trash. “Oh my God…,” he whispered.

Jackson swallowed. It couldn’t be good. When Vegas panicked, it was never good. “Did one of the cats die?” It was a terrible question, but he had to ask.

“Nonono,” Vegas said and pointed to the mound of bags.

Finally, Jackson came to Vegas’s side, took Vegas’s hand, and squeezed tight in reassurance.

Vegas blinked at the gesture. “No. I’m really fine.” He pointed down. “It’s that.”

Jackson squinted into the darkness and peered into the piles of bags. Something wiggled, and he smiled. “The cats had kittens, didn’t they?” He wasn’t totally heartless about Vegas and his cats.

He moved another bag as he listed to the sound of mewls and gurgles.

“We’ll get them something to eat and a place to sleep,” Jackson comforted Vegas.

He moved the last bag and fell back.

It wasn’t a litter of kittens.

“It’s a… I-It’s a…,” he stammered.

Laying in the trash, swaddled in a fuzzy pink blanket, the baby cooed.

J
ACKSON
CHOKED
and fell back on his butt. “It’s a b-b-baby.” Jackson pointed a trembling finger. “Where the fuck did it come from?”

Vegas bent slightly forward, his hair falling over one shoulder as he inspected the child. He smirked. “Do you want the clinical explanation?”

Jackson glowered at him. “Now you’re just being an ass.”

The baby wiggled her tiny hands and babbled.

Vegas stepped closer, and the baby’s eyes widened. “Do you think it’s human?”

Jackson shifted to his feet and then took a step back. He shook his head. What kind of question was that? He rubbed his chin. Well, there
were
two incubi and a crazy guy who insisted he was an alien. It was a valid question after all. “You check,” Jackson said, shooing Vegas closer to the baby. “I’m not good with tiny living things.”

Vegas shook his head. “Check?” He snorted and bent forward to scoop the baby from the trash. He cradled her close, bouncing her in his grasp. “She doesn’t seem to have three heads. I guess she’s human enough.” He tickled at her chin, and the baby burst into tears.

Jackson skipped back, and Vegas had a panicked look in his eye.

The baby shrieked and her face turned flaming red with her wails.

“Oh God, oh God, take the baby,” Vegas whispered urgently as he stepped to Jackson’s side. “Take the baby. Take the baby.”

Jackson recoiled and held up his hands to fend him off. “Can’t you calm it down or something? If you give it to me, it’ll just scream louder.”

Vegas grimaced at the baby’s shrill cries. “Please. Take. The. Baby.”

“No way,” Jackson insisted. “No, no, no, no—”

Vegas cut him off as he laid the baby in Jackson’s arms.

Jackson screwed his eyes shut, horrified for what terrors awaited him.

The baby giggled.

“Would you look at that?” Vegas said softly, and reached to tickle the baby’s chin.

The baby screamed!

Vegas jerked back, shocked.

The baby giggled and cooed at Jackson.

“This is not happening,” Jackson muttered helplessly.

Vegas smirked. “I’d say you have a way with children, after all.” He hooked a thumb toward the diner. “She probably needs food. I’ll boil some pears while you contact the sheriff. Her mother has to be out there somewhere.”

Jackson looked down at the baby, and she cackled when they made eye contact. Was he funny-looking? Well. Maybe to a baby. He had no idea on how to properly hold a newborn, but he had seen it enough times on movies to make an educated guess.

Following Vegas into the diner, Jackson stood by as Vegas headed for the walk-in cooler. He remained silent when Vegas emerged with a couple of pears and an apple.

All while the baby murmured on his shoulder.

Jackson gnawed on his bottom lip as Vegas set about chopping the fruit. “Am I doing this right?” Jackson asked, gesturing with his chin to the baby. “I never held one before.”

Vegas looked up, his eyes narrowing into merry crescents. “You’re doing fine. She seems to like you.”

Jackson wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. But she seemed to have missed the memo that I detest little wiggling things.”

The baby giggled and Jackson blinked.

“Does she understand me? Can babies do that?” He’d have to limit his cussing for sure. Which would prove next to impossible since “fuck” was an incredibly versatile word.

Vegas poured water into a saucepan and clicked on the burner. “I heard once it’s not that they don’t speak like an adult, but we just don’t speak their language.” He pointed to the manager’s office they shared. “Get the sheriff on the phone. Surely someone’s gotta know about an abandoned baby.”

Jackson nodded, heading for the office. He took another guess and tried bouncing the baby as he walked. She continued to murmur, so he took it as approval. Okay, good sign. When he had worked in the Four Horsemen Stables as a summer job, he had caring for the foals down. If he could keep a baby horse of death alive, he could totally keep a human baby alive until they got her to the right people.

He tried to coordinate the cordless phone while holding the baby, which was about as graceful as juggling three watermelons. Punching in the number for the Tez PD, Jackson listened as it rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And then disconnected.

He furrowed his brows. In the kitchen, he heard the immersion blender buzzing away as Vegas prepared the baby’s first Vegas Special.

Jackson punched the number in again, and the baby squeaked.

Were babies supposed to squeak? It was a normal baby thing, right?

“It’s okay… It’s okay…,” he said as the phone rang over and over until static and then nothing. “Shit.” Jackson spat and then slapped his hand over his mouth. “Shoot,” he corrected himself. “
Shoot
.” He made a crooked smile at the baby. “You say shoot, okay? I say the other thing.”

The baby responded with a spit bubble.

“Oh God. This thing is gross,” Jackson groaned. He stepped out into the kitchen as Vegas poured the fruit puree into the blast chiller. Jackson arched a brow. “You know you could have just blended it with ice and called it good.”

Vegas turned, wiping his hands on a towel. “I changed my mind midstream. I think maybe a custard kind of thing might work texture-wise.”

“It’s a baby?” Jackson said, incredulous. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t care.”

The baby grunted.

Vegas and Jackson glanced at each other in question.

“Did she just disagree?” Vegas asked.

“Fuck if I know—shit!” Jackson bit his lip. “
Fudge
if I know.
Shoot
.”

The baby giggled.

Vegas crossed his arms and gave Jackson an appraising once-over, and Jackson’s face flushed with his inspection. “I think the little lady is going to make an honest man out of you,” Vegas purred.

“It’s just for a few hours,” Jackson said, scowling. “The phone’s on the fritz, and I couldn’t get through to the sheriff’s office. We’ll have to go ourselves.”

Vegas rubbed his chin. “Why does anyone have phones in this town? The reception is sh—”

“Hey.” Jackson snapped his fingers and pointed to the baby.

“
Shoot
,” Vegas corrected himself.

“Okay. We got this. We can do this,” Jackson said with a nod. He adjusted his grip on the baby and shifted his weight. “She’s killing my back. Take her for a second.”

Vegas stepped forward with outstretched arms.

The baby shrieked and Vegas danced back.

Jackson rocked with her and she quieted again. Jackson blinked at Vegas. “She doesn’t bite. I swear. She hasn’t bitten me yet, at least. Take her.”

Vegas reached out again, and the baby burst into demonic howls that would rival the Phlegethon rush-hour traffic.

“She hates me,” Vegas said, crestfallen.

Jackson scowled. “She can’t hate you. Everyone loves you. Baby bunnies freaking flock to you.”

“Watch,” Vegas said as he took a step forward.

Instantly, the baby screamed a shrill, ear-piercing note. Both men grunted from the terrible sound.

Vegas stepped away again, and immediately the baby burbled in happy coos at Jackson.

“See?” Vegas said and dread washed over Jackson. “She hates me.”

“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening,” Jackson croaked. “We need to get her to the sheriff’s office stat. The sooner we get her into safe hands, the sooner I can win the bet.”

Vegas blinked. “The bet? You’re still concerned about the bet? We found a baby. I think the bet should be the least of your concern right now.” He checked the clock and turned back to the blast chiller. “I think the custard is good to go,” he said as he pulled out the bowl. He dipped his pinky into the custard and held it out to Jackson. “Try it. Make sure the flavors are there.”