My ogling of Ryan’s dad is brought to an abrupt end when Lionel bitches about his drinks. My fuse was already short when I spell his stool leg to break and he goes crashing to the floor.

I spin and smile at Ryan’s dad and his companion.

“What can I get you, boys?” They both smile hungrily at me and I realize that this is going to be the most satisfying revenge plot I could have ever imagined.

“I’d hardly say we’re boys, love,” his friend says.

Now that I’m close, I can see how green Ryan’s dad’s eyes are and then it hits me like a magical brick wall. His magic is strong. It feels like campfire smoke hugging me around my limbs. My eyes widen and he stares at me.

I clear my throat. “No, definitely men. What can I get you?”

Dax downs his empty glass and winces. “Not that fucking drink again. Whiskey?” I nod and turn around, wishing I would have hiked my skirt up higher. I deviously drop a straw and bend over to pick it up, hoping that he watches the motion.

I pour him two fingers of whiskey in a lowball glass and turn and hand it to him. Our fingers touch and I swear to Hecate I feel electricity. My brow arches almost like a question to him. What the fuck are you?

“I haven’t seen you here before. Traveling for business?” I ask.

“We’re detectives, working on a case,” his friend says, and Ryan’s dad rolls his eyes.

“Oh, interesting. Is it a popular case?”

“No, sorry, confidential,” the blonde younger man says.

“You don’t look old enough to be a detective,” I say, arching an eyebrow at him.

“You flatter me. I promise I’m older than I look. This ugly mug next to me, though, he looks older than he actually is.” He nudges his shoulder, and I can see the irritation on his face.

“Well, this is my place. It’s probably the best place to eat in town besides Lucia’s, the Italian place down the street.”

“Noted,” the blond man says with a grin. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

I roll my eyes. “Blair, and yours?”

“I’m Asmo and this is Dax.”

“Dax,” I repeat and look at the man’s face. Damn, he’s so hot. His green eyes glimmer and his dimples deepen when he gives me a shit-eating grin.

“Can I buy you a drink, Blair?” Dax asks in his deep, rumbling voice. No way is he just human, there’s no way in Hell.

“I’m a tequila girl.”

“Your best tequila then,” he says, and I smile.

“You two want shots, too?” They both nod and I grab the tequila and shot glasses.

Lionel decides to get rowdy again. “What the fuck, Blair? The pretty boys get free drinks and I can’t even pay to be served?”

I mutter a quick silentium and Lionel’s mouth quickly stops moving. I know it’s sloppy to be using this much magic around human customers, but I don’t really care, it’s been a bad day. Lionel is an obnoxious werewolf who needs a muzzle, or to learn some manners.