Here’s another unedited snippet from my next paranormal romance How to Love a Pink Demon. It picks up where we left off last week. Let me know what you think!
“You’ll have to go alone,” said Brady.
Miles looked at him like he was crazy. “So the hell what? I’m not a toddler in need of an escort, am I?”
His handlers just rolled their eyes.
He left Sydney the next day to visit his family before his American exile began. He didn’t really think that, of course. He actually wanted to make the trip. At first he was against it, but shortly after it was decided a nameless excitement took root in his gut. It promised something special once he landed on foreign soil.
But first he’d visit the old homestead. He sighed irritably. Maybe a bit of family time would get him out of this funk.
His older brothers Marshall and Mitch and his parents Hebe and Heron were glad to see him. They were sad he was only staying a week, but he quickly fell back into the routine of the ranch. At first he helped mend fences, loving the dry, hard heat and the warmth of the sun on his face. But his mother quickly coaxed him indoors to fix the many odds and ends around the house that his brothers and father never seemed to get around to. He couldn’t blame them really. They were always working outdoors.
“Crikey,” he whispered, when his mum gave him her list.
But he was a good son, so he tightened loose door knobs, changed broken locks, put together shelves for two bedroom closets, painted walls, tidied the top shelves of the pantry. That one was easy. Most of its contents went straight into the rubbish bin.
He cleaned out dusty cupboards, tidied the shed and the carport, then he shredded a mountain of paper that had piled up in his dad’s office. And he did all of this cheerfully, hiding longing glances out the window, and vigorously denying any desire to be outside in the heat and dust with his brothers.
Of course his mum didn’t believe a word of it. But for his efforts he got pies, cakes and dinners filled with his favorite things. No fool, he ate most of it before his father and brothers came in, thus mitigating the need to share.
“You’re a selfish demon,” his father said, shaking his head.
“But you appreciate that the kitchen sink no longer leaks,” said Miles, popping the last piece of homemade scone into his mouth before he went off to change some blown lightbulbs in the attic. “And I did save you some.”
“Two bloody scones each out of a dozen!” said his brother Marshall.
Miles gave him a look that said, you were lucky to get that.
Once in the attic he saw why his mum hadn’t replaced the bulbs herself. They were out of easy reach. Peeking down the stairs, he listened to make sure no one was around. Then he shed his clothes, poofed into his demon skin and easily climbed the rafters. His tail held him upside down while he changed out the bulbs. He used a bit of magic to set the old ones carefully into the bin so they wouldn’t break.
“That’s one way to get ‘er done,” said Mitch.
Caught unaware, Miles instinctively hissed a warning, his ears going flat against his head.
“Simmer down, old boy. It’s only me.” Then peeking down the stairs in much the same way Miles had, his brother shed his clothes and changed too.
Soon they were both dangling upside down from the rafters, all the bulbs changed.
They were silent for some time, just swaying there peacefully. Miles stretched happily. It felt great not to be human for a bit. He hadn’t changed into his base form in weeks. Perhaps that was his problem? But even now that strange restlessness wasn’t completely gone. What was bothering him?