Boogie Beach by Winnie Winkle

Author:Winnie Winkle [Winkle, Winnie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781732905061
Publisher: J. S. Netwal

Chapter 18

As the night deepened patrons showed up, eyeballed the muses, and skedaddled, many giving me a courtesy shrug. At 3 a.m, with me, Clep, Chelsea, and the dampening dames holding a vigil for my bottom line, I’d had enough.

“I’m closing early. At nine, I start nailing the floorboards in the human bar for the entire day, and I could use some sleep.”

“Do you need to update the record?” The muse’s tone, perfunctory, was annoying, but I kept my mind blank.

Clep burst out laughing. The muses exchanged a glance and rose.

“True, it’s been uneventful,” the leader acknowledged.

“Thanks to you three,” Clep grinned. “Besides, this Keeper knows her place, so there’s no need to police her.”

“Based on what I read,” the muse rejoined.

“These are not normal circumstances,” Clep’s voice cut across, and she stopped. “The Keeper makes the effort to uphold the precious balance you three swoon over, so leave her alone.”

What? Holy crap. Did he just yank them up in front of me? Oh man, please don’t extract the price for that on my hide.

To my surprise, the leader inclined her head. “As you wish.”

The muses turned and walked out as I stowed the accounting ledger. Clep pushed gold over the bar.

“Shit night. Sorry, kid.”

“Oh, it’s fine, but thank you for this thoughtfulness.”

Those liquid eyes flicked on and I stilled. Please don’t.

He raised an eyebrow and leaned away from me. “Where to now?”

“My home is a few blocks along the beach.”

Chelsea rose. “Should I stay?”

Yes! Don’t leave!

Clep laughed again.

“Very well. I’ll return in a few hours, Patra. Here’s a potion for the shoulder. In the morning I have a spell to help with the floor.”

“Oh, Chelsea, thank you so much!”

Her eyes remained green, but twinkled. “Get some sleep.”

Clep snorted as she snapped and vanished.

“Shall we?”

Followed by a muscle mountain of gorgeous god, I palmed us out of The Boogey and headed to the car. Clep squeezed in and patted the dashboard.

“Cool, haven’t been in a fast car in years.”

I backed out and headed toward my condo.

“Put the top down and crank it.”

“You got it.” Taking a neat three-point turn in the next driveway, I lowered the canopy, then drove toward the bridge and I-95. Hauling ass beat fighting over bedroom shenanigans.

“Whaaaa-hoooooo!”

Cranked at 90 mph, Clep, oblivious to the bugs suiciding on his face as he towered over the rim of the windshield, laughed with baritone delight. It’s a straight shot towards St. Augustine, and the merciful lack of law enforcement was a bonus. I did not want to explain him to Ballard’s cohorts.

Unlike Poseidon, Clep’s reception to my begging for privacy might not go well. He struck me as a god who stayed on task and didn’t play much, so when he let go, he’s down a hundred percent and disinclined to pamper paltry humans.

“Beach?”

Clep whooped, which I took as a yes, and we curved along the exit. I pulled into my favorite spot and hopped out, grabbing two water bottles and a beach blanket. I kicked off and scooped

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