The Sherwood Forest Hotel was ‘Bolt Springs only pub, and what it lacked in charm it made up for in tourist kitsch. Antique mining tools adorned the walls. A couple of antique miners themselves propped up the front bar, schooners in hand. They barely glanced up at the sight of us, commentary from the night's football match still droning in the background. It was hardly a swinging saloon-door entrance.

I scuttled towards the dining-room door, avoiding eye contact. The demons followed me with variations of curiosity and disdain on their faces.

Ah, crap. The empty front bar had been deceptive. Inside the dining room, a long table was filled with chattering people. Cutlery clinked and raucous laughter erupted. Once glance at the table was enough. Here was trouble.

I tried to duck behind Owen, but it was too late. We’d already made eye contact. Christian Robbins, half rising from his chair at the head of the table. Christian fucking Robbins. Out schmoozing with his workmates from the tractor dealership, no doubt.

“Braith?”

The conversation at the table gradually petered out, and tipsy glances turned towards us. My neck went hot and cold.

“Hey, Chris.” I waved weakly. Behind me, Owen’s chest was a solid wall. Damn, I really should have run off before dinner.

Owen didn’t move, and I was forced to wiggle sideways or end up wedged under his chin. The demons were completely still.

“How have you been?” Christian regained his poise with the irritating ease I knew so well. His coworkers, sensing nothing more interesting than an old acquaintance, resumed their chatter.

Don’t get up. Even my thoughts seemed to be squeezing themselves through gritted teeth. Of course, the universe ignored me and he swaggered over.

“Who’s this?” He’d somehow managed to take my hand in a firm shake, arm clapped around my shoulder. Great, now I was trapped between him and the unmoving Owen, whose body was radiating heat through my shirt.

“Um, this is my- my boss, Mr Varanor.” I stole a glance at the chin over my shoulder and wished I hadn’t. His chest might’ve been warm, but Owen’s expression was icy.

“I didn’t know you’d got a new job.” Christian filled the awkward silence.

As if you would. I snorted internally. Christian’s interest in me had waned the moment high school ended. My lip started to curl, even as my hearth thumped unpleasantly against my ribs.

God, I hated this feeling. Like a bug under the microscope. Once again, I was the gay kid at school. Correction, the out kid at school.

“We are here for dinner.” Owen’s voice rumbled from deep in his chest. I fancied I could feel it.

“Oh, okay,” Christian blinked, but recovered quickly, “well, the steak’s great.”

Gregory snorted from somewhere behind me and I suddenly recalled the rest of demons. Wow, turns out even the infernal forces of darkness couldn’t hold a candle to my ex-situationship.

Christian seemed to finally get the hint, and returned to his table. I could see the curious faces as he no doubt spun some line about an ‘old mate’ from high-school. But we hadn’t been friends.

I spent lunchtimes in the library, he spent them on the football field. Sometimes he’d brush past me in the corridor, sweaty from a game. We never made eye contact. After school, we’d meet at the bus shelter. Fumbling and nervous, he rarely spoke to me as we rubbed and groaned at the urging of our teenaged hormones. We never went that far, either from the fear of being discovered, or maybe because some sixth sense of self-preservation held me back. I never called him my boyfriend, even in my head.

I’d heard from Shelby that he’d gone to some regional college to study business. She’d mentioned it lightly and we’d both taken another sip of beer. We never spoke of it again.

We found a table as far away from the tractor table as demonly possible. Owen frowned at the menu, but closed it with a snap, handing it to Bradley. The old demon took our orders to the bar and returned with a bottle of red wine. Nobody ordered the steak.

“The chopper will arrive at eight AM.” Gregory said as he took a glass. Bradley deftly slid one in front of me, and sat back primly behind his mineral water.

Owen didn’t deign to respond. I wasn’t in any state to make small talk. Finally, Bradley broke the silence.

“Today went well, my lord. The Prince will be impressed.”

I froze with my glass halfway to my mouth. Gregory coughed on his wine and grabbed at a napkin.

Owen looked at Bradley like he wanted to set him alight. “It’s not the place to discuss business matters.”

“Of course not, my lord.” Bradley smirked. He didn’t glance my way, but I could feel his attention all over me.

I put down my glass. “I’m going to the bathroom.”