Magical Midlife Dating (Leveling Up 2)

Before I could think further, the waitress approached us, a woman in her mid-twenties wearing the same black vest and white shirt as the host. Lust flashed in her eyes the instant she noticed Damarion.

Something tight and uncomfortable lodged in my belly, and it wasn’t magic this time. Despite the upgrade to my physical level, I wasn’t nearly as attractive as this girl. And although I was once again flexible in a literal sense, I wasn’t bendable to other people’s whims in the way I’d been at twenty. What would a hot, younger guy like this want with a woman walking through the door of forty?

Power. Prestige.

The words floated up from within me, popping like little bubbles in a glass of champagne, but a dark mood had already settled on me. A mood that questioned what, exactly, I thought I was doing showing myself off in a sparkly dress and running around with a man in his prime. It pissed me off that I felt that way—that I bought into the notion that certain things were “improper” for a woman my age, but it was harder to shake off society’s shackles than I would have liked.

“Did you get a chance to look at our wine list?” the waitress asked, and I belatedly noticed a little booklet tucked between a little cowboy figurine and the half wall. They’d gone a little far with the Wild West theme, truth be told. If Austin had been my dining partner, I would have said so, but I had a feeling Damarion would just grunt or nod.

“Oh no, I—”

“We will have a bottle of the Migration Pinot Noir,” Damarion said. “Water, please, as well, no ice.”

“Of course.” The waitress flashed him a winning smile that he didn’t notice.

“Mr. Tom mentioned that Migration was your favorite,” Damarion said, his eyes traveling over my face. “I called ahead and made sure they had it.”15My dark mood hadn’t lightened too much through dinner. Damarion had ordered for me again, steaks for each of us with a baked potato, butter, sour cream, and no chives. Apparently Mr. Tom had said I liked that dish. Which was mostly fine, since I’d intended to order it anyway, but also a little annoying.

“We won’t stay long,” Damarion said with grim determination as we pulled up to the warm glow of Austin’s bar.

The familiarity of it came as a relief, even more so because Niamh sat in her usual seat. The spot beside her—the one I always sat in when I showed up—was still empty even though the bar was otherwise full.

“Hey,” I said to Niamh as I stopped behind the empty chair. Paul stood down the way, shaking a silver drink mixer, but there was no sign of Austin.

“Well, how’r’u? What’s the craic?” She caught sight of Damarion, his expression closed down into an uncomfortable mask and his biceps pushing at his blazer, clearly flexed to match his fists. How he and Austin met hadn’t seemed to weigh any lighter on him. That, or he didn’t like Niamh. It really could’ve been either. “Damarion, how was dinner? Did she let you order fer her?” She zeroed in on my best buddy, sitting next to the open seat. “Sasquatch, ye dirty bollocks, ya. Go down to the end. Open up that seat.”

He scowled at her, no doubt annoyed she wasn’t using his real name. Unlike Mr. Tom, he hadn’t asked for the change.

“I was here first,” he grumbled as Austin came around the corner from the back, two bottles of vodka in his hands. He caught sight of me, but his small smile slipped away when he noticed Damarion at my side.

“But ye won’t be there last, will ye?” Niamh said. “Jessie will make you leave, now ye know she will.”

“She has a seat right there.” He nodded down at the open place.

“Yes, but her very large, fine man would also like to sit, or didn’t ye notice the grumpy gargoyle standing at yer back?”

Sasquatch’s shoulders tensed as he slowly looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Damarion, who was in some weird, silent standoff with Austin.

My nemesis hunched in his place but didn’t move. “I don’t care. He can’t do anything to me. Neither of them can. I didn’t insult her or bad-mouth her or push her or anything. I didn’t break any rules. I was here first, so I get to stay.”

Damarion’s eyes came around. Finally realizing the issue, he reached forward, grabbed the back of Sasquatch’s shirt, and yanked him. Sasquatch’s shirt ripped but held, pulling the guy back and off the stool, and he rolled across the floor.

Niamh jumped up and grabbed me, pulling me out of the way, and not a moment too soon. The next events happened so fast that at first I couldn’t do much more than widen my eyes and blink stupidly.