Chapter Five
“Herzlich willkomen!” Ottowina Stieg rolled out from behind the counter. She was built like a tank, moved like a tank, and had a voice that boomed like a mortar. Her “hairts-leek vil-com-n”—(meaning “warm welcome,” although herz translates to “heart” so there’s a flavor of heartfelt warmth. I didn’t remember ever learning German, but maybe if you lived in a bilingual area long enough, the language sort of soaked in)—blew out my ears and her halogen-headlight smile outdid even Sera’s.
“Hi, Mrs. Stieg. Mr. Stieg.”
Otto, her husband, swept the floor behind her, spinning with his broom like a top. He enjoyed his wife’s cooking a lot and had petite feet, which was a nice way of saying he was shaped like a top, too. I wasn’t sure if his shape led to his unique style of sweeping, or if the spinning led to his shape, like forming a planet.
“Welcome to Meiers Corners.” Ottowina pressed slick, colorful trifolds on us. “Here are brochures. Free!”
“Thank you,” Rikare said. “Where do these come from?”
The way he went subtly on point made me think this had something to do with the murders. My information packet only included my role in the cover story. Need to know, probably, but I resented it a little.
“Ach, the chamber of commerce prints them by the case. Would you like a dozen more?” She dragged out a stack.
He grimaced. “That’s all right.”
She went on heartily, “Delight your sweet tooth at the Fudgy Delight, enjoy a brat sandwich at the Deli Delight, and for your souvenir pleasure, you must absolutely visit Wurst Und Käse while you are here.” She named my favorite sausage and cheese store.
“It’s me, Mrs. Stieg,” I said. “Brie. I grew up here. You don’t have to pretend the German charm for me.”
“What pretend charm?” she said blankly. Then she enfolded me in her arms, surprising an “Erp” out of me. If you’ve never been hugged by an M60 Patton, it’s an experience. “I am kidding, of course. Here you are, all grown up. With your fiancé, even!” She released me to hit us with a smile like high beams—both brilliant and painful.
“Mrs. Stieg, we’re not engaged.” I scrambled to cut that off, pronto, before the whole town married us and gave us a shivaree, only to have Otto whirl up and twirl me from his wife’s embrace into his.
“So gut to see you, meine cousin.”
Gut was “good,” meine “my.” Meiers Corners was at least three generations removed from the founding Mütter und Väter. Some folk managed a heavy German accent anyway. The fact that it was mostly those who relied on tourism for their bread and butter was probably a coincidence.
“Cousin?” Rikare’s voice floated into my ears, the sound muffled by lack of oxygen.
“Distant relation,” I croaked as Otto released me. “Second cousin twice removed or something.” The town was small and insular enough that everyone was related. Even newcomers. The DNA migrated through the beer and brats.
Yes, the city was less than an hour from Chicago. When I tried to explain Meiers Corners to my New York friends, their shocked reactions told me the insular nature of the Corners seemed unbelievable. It was a mind-set more than any physical impediment. I once asked my grandmother if I could drive to the Windy City, since I’d just gotten my license, and she replied, “Why? Everything you need is here, in walking distance.” I had said something like, “What if I can’t find it here?” and she’d retorted, “Then you don’t need it.”
Ottowina clapped her hands. “Otto, will you take this nice young engaged couple’s baggage upstairs?”
“Right away, liebchen.” Her husband didn’t lift our cases; he whirled them into his tornado of activity and spun them up the stairs.
I groaned. There it was, again. Engaged. Now Ottowina would tell her five closest friends who’d tell the church ladies league who’d tell the gossip central hairdresser, and soon the whole town would hear about it. It was one step from there to the wedding planner setting the date so she could order flowers and cake. Then the judge would print the marriage certificate while the rest of the town gussied up the church for the wedding.
A small town is like family in all the good ways. The pressure of expectation they can exert is like family, too.
And yes, I’d gotten out. Didn’t change the fact that I’d grown up here and learned the scripts so young they were embedded in my psyche. All the cues were still here and triggering responses inside me.
Only a sort of gut-wrenching certainty of apocalyptic doom let me protest now. “Mrs. Stieg, Seb and I are not engaged.”
“Then why are you sharing the honeymoon suite?” she said, as if I was the one being unreasonable.
That, in a nutshell, had been my life here. At some point, resistance becomes futile. What the hell, maybe if I upgraded to fiancée, Boosey would give me an even better recommendation. I gestured. “This is Seb Rikare.”
“Willkomen, willkomen!” She grabbed his hand and worked it like he was a water pump in the desert.
Our luggage had already been swept upstairs by Otto—sure enough, straight into the honeymoon suite. I briefly closed my eyes. At least the FBI was paying for it.
“There is every amenity,” Ottowina said. “King-size bed, whirlpool tub, separate shower. I fry breakfast at five, but there is food all day. The smorgasbord includes traditional German favorites such as dumpling pizza, sauerkraut egg rolls, sausage-fried chicken—”
“Thank you,” Seb said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone with my fiancée.”
“Of course! I will make sure you get the paper later. You will see the highlights of Oktoberfest.” She bustled out.
When Seb shut the door behind her, I shook my head. “You shouldn’t encourage her with that fiancée bit.”
“I know. How’d you do it?” As he turned from the door, he was shaking his black head. “How did you survive this town?”
Surprise and gratitude filled me. To MC folk, their attitudes and values were natural and normal. Visitors found them quaint but harmless. They’d never had to live with the weight of town-wide expectations I could never fulfill. The constant disappointed looks, the pain and shame of not measuring up yet again.
Now someone else seemed to understand.
I breathed in, my lungs filling with air that seemed better, sweeter, than any I’d breathed before.
I smiled at him.
He instantly stilled, his black gaze riveted on me.
Connection sang between us.
I swallowed a sudden influx of saliva. Since the first moment I’d laid eyes on him, I’d been physically attracted to him like no one else. Despite knowing he was a vampire, that hadn’t changed. Now I was intensely aware I was alone in a bedroom with Seb Rikare.
My whole body clenched.
His eyes changed. Heated. Darkened.
I swallowed hard. My heart started to beat faster. What would it be like to caress the silky-looking skin of his face? Nibble that honed jaw? Touch my mouth to those perfect, masculine lips? All I had to do was take a few short steps to find out.
I took one without even knowing it.
His nostrils flared and he drew in an excited breath.
He wants me, too. At the thought, my belly thrilled and my heart thumped hard. He’d touch me in return. Hold me secure in his strong arms. Cup my face in his big hands, press his lips to mine, communicating his need in a passionate kiss. I took another step toward him.
He took a single, unconscious step toward me.
Oh, yeah. In that moment, I wanted to play with fire. Sure, Derek had me under his spell within weeks. Seb, as strong and handsome as he was, could no doubt do it in days.
But just once wouldn’t hurt, right? I wanted to, so badly. Couldn’t I touch him once, to see if his skin was silk or cream? Nibble his jaw, to test how honed it was? Taste his mouth, to satisfy the curiosity burning in my body?
Just a taste.
Somehow, while I argued with myself, my curious feet had brought me to stand before him. He gazed down at me. At nearly six feet myself, I was usually the one looking down. Even with me in heels, he was over half a foot taller. The novel experience sent another thrill through me.
I made a small noise, like a whimper.
His black eyes lit with fire, a hunger so primal I could see it burning in his gaze. His hands rose. Slowly, so I could have stopped him, he cupped my face in both his hands. My whole face. Damn, the man had big hands. He bent closer, his intent clear.
He was going to kiss me.