Damsel Under Stress (Enchanted, Inc. #3)

Damsel Under Stress (Enchanted, Inc. #3) Page 7

I lagged behind the others at the entrance to the subway station, pretending to have to search for my MetroCard, so I could get a better look at something I was sure they couldn’t see without being too obvious about it. It took me a moment or two to spot the tiny thing hovering over my shoulder, and when I did, I relaxed considerably. It was a male fairy—or sprite, as they preferred to be called, as they had issues with being called “fairies.” Go figure. I hadn’t realized they could shrink that small, but then I remembered Tinkerbell. Yeah, that’s fiction, but I was learning that a lot of things I thought were just stories were real, so why not that, too? The sprite saluted me, and I figured he must have been my current magical bodyguard. With the threat from Idris and his people, I was almost always tailed by someone in the MSI security force.

That made me hesitate about going out with my friends. With my enemies on the loose, did I really want to put myself out there in public around my friends? I didn’t think Idris or Ari would hesitate to try to at least embarrass me, if not outright harm me or them. In the middle of Rockefeller Center, there were all sorts of magical disasters that could happen. “I just remembered something I need to do,” I said. “Y’all go on and have a good time. I probably wouldn’t have skated anyway. I’ve never been on skates before in my life, since we don’t have a lot of ice in Texas that’s not in drinks, and I’d rather not spend Christmas in traction.”

“I bet I know what you have to do,” Connie said. “You have to find a gift for the new boyfriend. That’s the problem with starting to date someone so close to a major holiday. You suddenly have to come up with a gift that’s meaningful as well as appropriate for where you are in the relationship.”

I was perfectly willing to use the excuse to get away from them, but thinking about what Connie said set off a panic attack. I’d already given Owen a gift, but that was only because I was his secret Santa at work. I hadn’t considered that I’d now need to come up with a gift for him on a personal level. “What is appropriate this early in a relationship?” I asked.

“Well, it needs to be personal enough to show your feelings, but not so personal that it presumes something that may not be there yet. Nothing too expensive, but possibly something that will go on to be meaningful if the relationship lasts.”

“No pressure there,” I said with a snort. “I guess this is where you’d give a girl a cute stuffed animal or a pretty candle set. But what do you give a guy?” I thought I heard a high-pitched, faint burst of laughter and turned to shoot my sprite bodyguard a glare. He immediately moved out of range, hovering somewhere I couldn’t see him anymore.

“That’s one of the great mysteries of life,” Marcia said. “Everything they like is expensive and, therefore, inappropriate this early in a relationship. Maybe you should have waited until after Christmas to hook up.”

“What kind of music does he like?” Connie asked. “You could get him a CD.”

I hadn’t noticed any CDs or even a CD player in the one time I’d been in Owen’s house. All I could remember seeing was books everywhere. If he had a stereo, it was probably buried under piles of books. And when someone had that many books, it was hard to find a book you could be sure he’d like that he didn’t already have. Besides, that’s what I’d given him as a secret Santa gift. With a groan I said, “I’d better get going. I have my work cut out for me.”

I did a little window-shopping in the general area around Union Square, but no modest yet meaningful—but not too meaningful—gifts perfect for a man I was just getting to know jumped out at me. No enemies popped by to make veiled threats or cause magical havoc, and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. It would have been really nice if I could have tackled Ari, turned her in, and ended this whole thing. After a while, I gave up on either finding the perfect gift or having the bad guys show themselves. Instead of doing more intense shopping, I went home, hoping I’d have word from Owen about how things were going. Alas, the “message waiting” light on the answering machine remained unblinking and unlit.

I’d underestimated Owen’s abilities, for I’d barely hung up my coat when the phone rang. The timing was too perfect for it to be a coincidence. “Katie?” a voice on the other end said when I answered. “It’s Owen.”

Like I didn’t recognize his voice almost instantly, even though we’d only ever spoken on the phone at work. “How are things going?” I asked, grateful that he’d called when I was at home alone, so I could talk freely.