4
Your relationships with other members of your family will change, just as the rest of your life has changed. And if you thought those relatives questioned your parenting decisions before, just wait until they find out you’re a vampire.
—My Mommy Has Fangs: A Guide to Post-Vampiric Parenting
I knew it was only a matter of time before Les or Marge showed up at my door. Casey was a serious gossip.
I’d expected to have more than forty minutes, though.
When Mr. Walsh emerged from the building with Nurse Anne, enormous first-aid kit in hand, I’d had to explain that the emergency medical care wasn’t necessary as I’d done my healing all by myself. There was no time like the present, I supposed, to update them on my new condition. Mr. Walsh spent a grand total of two seconds looking vaguely uncomfortable with the idea of a vampire parent before clearing his throat and handling the situation with his usual aplomb. He assured me that this wouldn’t change my son’s educational experience at the school and said to come to him if I had any problems. He’d even understood when I’d requested that he not release Danny to his grandparents. He’d dealt with much more complicated custody situations than mine, though in most of his cases, the parties involved had pulses. And while Nurse Anne remained silent, as I was leaving, she slipped a card into my hand detailing the meeting schedule for the Newly Emerged Vampires Support Group.
Still, I’d barely had time to get Danny showered and in bed before I heard a truck screeching through the cornfield and onto my driveway. I sighed, plucking Danny’s dirty clothes from the floor and switching on his Captain America night-light before I closed his bedroom door. I walked down the hallway, listening to the slap of Marge’s house shoes against the concrete walkway. For a short woman, she was moving at a pretty good clip.
Dear Lord, I prayed, please grant me the grace to explain this situation to my mother-in-law without permanently damaging our relationship. And if that’s not possible, please keep me from ripping her throat out, because that’s the sort of thing that will go on my undead permanent record.
Before Marge could pound on my door and wake my son, I pulled it open, startling her out of her furious posture for a second and making her step back. Marge was wearing one of her old cotton summer nightgowns. Her carefully dyed dark brown hair was up in pink sponge curlers, a nighttime ritual she still kept up, even with the invention of much more convenient hairstyling tools. I doubted she could get to sleep without the tight sensation against her scalp.
Les was standing near the truck, practically vibrating with rage. But he was silent, unable to do anything but stand there, glowering at me.
I opened the door just enough to stretch my arm across it, barring Marge from barging in. “Hi, Marge. I wasn’t expecting you. Everything OK?”
There was always the off chance that my in-laws were mad at me for non-vampire-related reasons.
“What have you done?” Marge shrieked, a pink roller dangling near her ear.
OK, maybe not. I sighed. “I got better.”
“Don’t you play flippant with me, Libby Stratton! You got yourself tangled up with some vampire, and he gave you his disease.”
And while she was sort of right on some counts, I couldn’t help but be a little hurt that she was implying that I’d picked up an STD from an ill-advised hookup. Honestly, where was my vampire Yoda when I needed her? What would Jane do?
“How could you do that?” Marge continued without waiting for an answer. “Was it an accident? Were you attacked?”
“I didn’t go looking for a good time, Marge,” I said as calmly as I could. “And I wasn’t attacked. I made this choice so I could see Danny grow up. I knew you would try to talk me out of it, so I didn’t say anything to you.”
“You’re damn right I would have tried to talk you out of it!” she yelled. My eyes went wide. In the eight years I’d known my mother-in-law, she’d never cussed once. “I cannot believe you could do something so stupid and selfish. There’s no going back from this, do you understand? You can’t take it back. How are you going to take care of him? How are you going to be a mother when you can’t even wake up during the day? What if he gets hurt and starts bleeding? Will you be able to control yourself?”
It hurt to hear my mother-in-law voice all the fears I’d had tumbling in my own head since I rose. I couldn’t blame her for feeling this way. If I were in the same position, I might react the same way. And if I’d felt any sort of hungry twinge for Danny’s blood, I would have packed his bags and sent him on to her house. But I hadn’t. Danny was safe with me. And her fears were something she was going to have to work through if she wanted to spend time with her grandson. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Just then, Jane rolled up the driveway in her SUV and screeched to a halt next to Les’s truck. I saw Les’s hand start toward his cab, but as Jane hopped out, she warned him, “Whatever you’re thinking about grabbing, don’t.”
In a flash, Jane was at my side, blocking the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Stratton, I’m Jane Jameson-Nightengale with the local Council office. I understand that you’re upset right now,” she said in a tone so smooth and even her little spiel had to have been thoroughly rehearsed. “Finding out that your loved one has made the transition to vampire can be a very confusing and upsetting time, but the important thing to remember is that Libby is still the same person you’ve always known. She just has a few new interesting skills. We have several chapters of the FFOTU meeting locally that could help you cope with the changes within your family. I have a brochure here that lists all of the meeting dates and locations.” Jane whipped out a slick brochure featuring the triangular logo of the Friends and Family of the Undead.
Marge stepped back as if Jane had offered her a dead rodent. “I have no interest in spending more time with your kind. I know what happens at those meetings. A bunch of people sitting around lying to themselves about not being upset at what their family has turned into.” She snorted. “And as for her being the same person? The girl who married my son wouldn’t have done this to herself. She’s obviously lost her mind.”
“Well, I can see that the gentle, political approach isn’t going to work,” Jane muttered. “OK, look, I understand that you’re worried about your grandson, but I’ve stayed with Libby for the last few days, and she hasn’t made one move toward Danny with blood on her mind. The thought of hurting him makes her physically ill. You will not find a more devoted parent than your daughter-in-law. Look at what she went through to stay with her son.”
“Well, you’ll pardon me if I don’t take your word for it that Danny’s safe. I’m not going to leave my grandchild alone with someone who drinks blood for food. We tried to be patient with you while you were sick, Libby, but all you’ve done is prove that you’re not a good influence on our grandson. He’s going to go home where he’s safe. I simply can’t trust you with him.”
I chose not to address the fact that she called her house Danny’s “home,” because there simply weren’t enough hours in the evening to unravel that particular rat’s nest of dysfunction. So I kept it simple. “You will not take my son from me,” I told her. “Cancer didn’t take him from me. I sure as hell won’t let you do it.”
“Well, if you think we’re going to stand for this, you’re even crazier than you let on!’ ” Marge barked, starting toward the door as if she could push past both of us. Jane very gently caught her arm and pushed her back. Marge’s dangling curler bounced loose and skittered across the porch into my azaleas.
“You don’t have a choice. I’m his mother. I have custody,” I told her. “I’m more than willing to let you visit Danny anytime you want. I don’t want him to lose his relationship with you. But if you try to take him from me, all bets are off.”
“I’m not going to let you decide when I see my own grandson,” Marge spat. “We’re taking you to court. We’re going to sue you for full custody.”
“And she will have the full backing of the Council’s legal department,” Jane said, sighing. “You should know that unless you can prove that Libby represents a danger to Danny, you will have difficulty taking custody from her.”
“Do you honestly think that a judge in Half-Moon Hollow will give Danny to her instead of us?” Marge demanded. “You must not be from around here, young lady.”
“Yes. In fact, there have been several cases in this district of responsible undead biological parents retaining custody over living relatives who filed without reasons beyond ‘I don’t want my kinfolk living with vampires.’ ” Jane drawled that last bit in an accent so insulting it couldn’t possibly be seen as an endorsement of Marge’s position. “And for the record, I grew up in this town. I’m Sherry Jameson’s daughter.” She turned to me. “How is it possible that your in-laws are the only people in town who don’t know me?”
I shrugged.
“Well, then, shame on you for helping her get involved in this mess!” Marge shouted.
“Calm down,” I whispered fiercely. “You’re going to wake up Danny!”
Les moved toward his wife before I could, speaking for the first time since they’d arrived. His voice was so tense and quiet I was afraid his vocal cords would snap. He tugged her arm gently, pulling her toward the truck. “Come on, Marge.”
“This isn’t over!” Marge cried as Les loaded her into the passenger seat.
Les didn’t even look at me as he climbed behind the steering wheel and spun out of the driveway.
“Well.” Jane sighed, watching their taillights disappearing into the distance. “It looks like you’re going to need that rental a little sooner than you thought.”
I nodded, wondering how Danny was going to handle the separation from his grandparents and moving right before the beginning of the school year. His first day of school was Tuesday. (Starting midweek was a lovely quirk of the Kentucky school system.) It seemed very unfair of me to be forcing so many changes on him in such a short period of time. I hoped all those comforting platitudes I’d heard about the resiliency of children were true.
“Lucky for you, the Council happens to know of a recently vacated unit that already has all of the required vampire conveniences. It’s located closer to Danny’s school and has a registered nurse living in the unit next door, should Danny have any medical emergencies.”
“That . . . sounds pretty perfect,” I said, lifting a brow. “What’s the catch?”
“You will be under close Council surveillance . . . and Dick will be your landlord. But on the upside, moving is much easier when you have superstrength.”
“I can live with that,” I told her. “And I’ve been packing for weeks.”
I was nearly moved into the Victorian-turned-duplex five days later when my in-laws served me with a very official-looking eviction notice. Kaylee was wringing her hands at the stove when I rose for the night. The white envelope lay on the table with a red “OFFICIAL NOTICE” stamp blaring under the kitchen lights.
It was funny that my brain didn’t immediately hop onto “past due bill” when I saw the red stamp. My second night as a vampire, I’d opened my online banking profile and found that it showed a significantly higher balance than I’d expected before I went underground (so to speak). I’d set up all my bills to pay automatically out of the account while I was “out.” And while my utilities were all paid up, the considerable insurance money I’d promised my sire in exchange for turning me was still there. The check I’d written for “cash” had not been cashed.
What the hell did that mean? Who turns someone just for fun?
In other developments, the move was coming together more quickly than we’d expected. The new apartment needed very few repairs after the departure of the last tenant, a conscientious vampire who’d given up his lease to move closer to his girlfriend’s college campus.
This was the first home I’d have that was my own. I paid the rent. I controlled the décor. Unless Dick suddenly decided to turn the place into a bed-and-breakfast, we weren’t going to be kicked out. There was a tremendous freedom in that.
So much more about my life had changed, beyond my pulse and my diet. I had friends. I had people I could trust with my feelings. I didn’t have to put on a brave front or pretend not to be hurt or upset when the occasion called for it.
Danny was upstairs, sorting his toys into “keep,” “store,” and “donate” boxes. I was fortunate that he seemed to view the move as an adventure, particularly when I described the old restored house with its turret bedrooms and time-worn wooden stairs. He’d always wanted a house where he could slide down the stairs on his butt. It was a dream come true for him.
Beyond the fact that it was necessary, I hoped the move would be good for my son. Sure, he would start school the day after we moved into the new place, but living in the more rural “farming district” of the Hollow, Danny didn’t have any nearby friends his age. Living closer to the school, he had a better chance of developing playmates. He’d asked several questions about his grandparents and how they felt about the move, but I’d been able to distract him with promises of painting his room whatever color he wanted and spending time with “Mr. Dick.”
The good news was that the move and keeping up with my contracted bookkeeping work kept me distracted from any weird bloodthirst issues I might be having. Being a vampire mom wasn’t that different from being a human mom—it was all about multitasking.
But as I made my way into the kitchen for my evening cup of blood, it seemed that Kaylee didn’t share my semioptimistic view on life. She was slumped over my stove, stirring a pot of spaghetti and wheatballs while she gnawed on her bottom lip. With Kaylee, I knew that this news could be anything from the death of a grandparent to the cancellation of her favorite teen demon-hunter show. I hoped she was just worried about getting into trouble for accepting the eviction notice.
I opened the official envelope and scanned its contents. It was nothing unexpected. I was being notified of my “breach” as a tenant. Since Rob and I had never actually signed a lease or paid rent, I could only assume that my “breach” involved my not breathing anymore. I had thirty days to contest or vacate the premises, something I wasn’t all that concerned about since I would be ready to move within the next twenty-four hours. I supposed this was the first volley in Les and Marge’s suit for custody: prove that I couldn’t provide a stable home for Danny on my own. I couldn’t help but be somehow proud that I’d anticipated this.
“It’s OK, Kaylee, really.” I sighed, downing my breakfast. “I was expecting this.”
“You were expecting my mama to say I can’t babysit for you anymore, Miss Libby?”
“No,” I said, pursing my lips. “I was referring to the eviction notice.”
“That’s what that is?” she cried. “Well, that’s not right. I told my mama, I don’t care if you’re a vampire, you’re a good person. Personally, I think it’s kind of cool. You look better. You feel better. And you’ve never hurt me. I don’t figure you’re going to start now. But Miss Marge’s been calling around, telling people that you’ve gone crazy and started biting people. I tried to tell my mama that just wasn’t true, but she said she didn’t feel safe with me taking care of Danny anymore. I’m really sorry. I talked her into one more night, but I told her it was because you had to go out and buy Danny’s school supplies. She wants me home by nine.”
I tamped down the panic welling in my chest. The next day was Danny’s last official day of summer vacation, and he was going to wake up without supervision, in a house where I was technically dead down the hall. There was no way that could go wrong.
Danny ran into the kitchen and threw himself at my side. Because my feet were planted, he bounced off my hip like a rubber ball. I shot my hands out at vampire speed and caught him by the elbows before his head could smack against the corner of the countertop. His eyes went wide with shock as I lowered him gently into a kitchen chair.
“You OK, sweetie?”
“Wow, Mom, you moved quick,” he whispered.
I gave an uncomfortable, clipped laugh. “Yeah, well . . . Mom’s been taking her vitamins every morning.”
“Like the orange ones that get stuck in my teeth?” he asked with a grimace.
“Yep, and if you want to be super-fast, you better take them, too.”
Danny had on his skeptical face, which made it a perfect time to change the subject from my unprecedented catlike reflexes.
“So why did you come barreling into the kitchen like a cannonball whose mother never taught him good manners or common sense?” I asked.
He had the good grace to look sheepish for a grand total of three seconds. “OK, so, when you buy my new backpack, make sure it’s not a baby backpack. No puppies or construction trucks or anything like that. Transformers or Avengers, and if they don’t have those, maybe The LEGO Movie. But that’s it.” Danny tugged on my T-shirt until I dropped to his eye level. “That’s it, Mom.”
“OK,” I said. “Any other instructions?”
“No lunch boxes. Nobody brings lunch, Mom. Everybody eats the cafeteria food, even though it can be gross sometimes. And I know you like to get me those little erasers shaped like pizza slices, but Carson ate them last year and started to cry ’cause he thought he was poisoned, so that’s not a good idea,” he said.
“Got it.”
“And no fat crayons. Everybody knows those are little-kid crayons. I need the skinny crayons.”
“OK, Danny.”
“And no—”
“Danny!”
Having finally made me bark at him, which was his goal all along, he burst out laughing and scampered off to his room.
I shook my head and asked Kaylee, “Are you sure you want to give all this up?”
Kaylee promptly burst into tears.
I blew out an unnecessary breath. “Oh, boy.”
While I drove into town, I mulled over the Danny situation and the fact that I would have no help in less than eight hours when he woke up. My first thought was to call his grandparents. It was an instinct born of years when calling anyone else to watch Danny—because I felt guilty asking for babysitting help every time we talked—caused disagreements with Rob and his parents, because they didn’t like the idea of anyone else watching Danny. Kaylee was only trusted because her mother went to Les and Marge’s church.
Again, it occurred to me how small my friend circle was now that I didn’t have other moms I could call for help. I doubted very much that Casey would be willing to watch Danny, since she seemed to be running some sort of gossip campaign about me.
Relinquishing the problem to my hindbrain for a thorough mulling, I pulled into the Walmart parking lot and brought the three-page school-supplies list out of my enormous mom purse. While I was walking to the entrance, I added several things we would need for the duplex: ice trays, a rug for Danny’s new bathroom, a countertop blood warmer, plus cracker packs Danny could put in his backpack for snack time. It was a far more interesting array of items than any of my preturning shopping lists.
It was nice to know that despite everything that had changed in my life, Walmart remained the same. I turned toward the special-dietary-needs aisle, the “vampire supplies” area where the undead could shop for fang floss, synthetic blood, and specialized sunscreen. I’ll admit I got a little overexcited at the number of new products now available to me. I dropped a tube of White Fang dental whitening gel into the cart, next to Hershey’s Special Blood Additive Chocolate Syrup and ReNu Skin revitalizing crème, because you never knew when you would suffer accidental sun exposure and need to regrow your epidermis. I might have overshopped a little, especially when one considered the metric ton of school supplies I was about to purchase, but so far, Casey’s and Marge’s calls hadn’t affected my bookkeeping business. I was going to consider that a good sign . . . or a sign that my clients were afraid to snatch business out from under a new vampire.
I turned toward the school-supplies section, praying that there was a Transformers or Avengers backpack left on the rack. While I dropped boxes of tissue, hand sanitizer, plastic bags, and paper towels into the cart, I tried to remember when exactly this stuff had become a parent expense. I turned the cart around the corner and crash—I ran right into another cart.
“Oh, I’m so—you!” I growled, my eyes narrowing at the tattooed arm in front of me. Grumpy Janitor was no less attractive in Walmart’s harsh fluorescent lighting. He smelled of iron and citrus, the earthy scents of the garage clinging to his clothes. Those two things should not have smelled good together, but God help me, they did. His dark gold hair was slicked back, revealing those devastating blue eyes. The less shaggy appearance made his face open up . . . and his face was openly hostile.
He was wearing worn jeans and black work boots with a T-shirt that read “HMH Custom Cycle Parts.” And a sneer. “You.”
And, of course, he appeared to be holding the last Avengers backpack in the store.
“So, what, now you’re runnin’ people down in the grocery store?” he demanded, throwing the backpack into his cart. “Seems like you’re always standin’ in my way somehow. What’s your problem?”
“My problem?” I exclaimed. “You ran into me. Just like you ran into me at school the other night. Do you have any manners at all?”
“I’ve got plenty of manners for people that deserve ’em. What the hell are you even doin’ here?” he demanded. “Who waits till two days before school starts to buy their kid’s school supplies? I thought your type updated your school-supplies shoppin’ list progress on Pinterest and shit.”
“You’re shopping for school supplies two days before school starts!” I cried, looking pointedly at his ill-gotten backpack. His cheeks flushed pink, and I tried really hard not to find that adorable. I had to actively command my nerve endings in naughty places not to tingle. Also, why didn’t I know what to do with my hands?
And he wasn’t even my type. While Rob hadn’t been all that considerate, he’d at least put on a show of politeness every once in a while. He didn’t actively disdain people to their faces.
“Also, I deleted my Pinterest account months ago.”
“And I’m here because I bought the wrong backpack. I guess it’s against some sort of kid law to carry a Minion backpack after kindergarten,” he grumbled, pointing to a bright yellow backpack featuring one of the small yellow underlings from Despicable Me. I grimaced. Danny had been rabid about Gru and the Minions when he was in kindergarten but declared the cartoon was for “babies” just after his fifth birthday. There was no greater insult. But I would not commiserate with the Hot Cranky Janitor, no matter how acutely I felt his pain.
I wondered how old his kids were and how old they would be when they got their first tattoos. Also, I wondered how his rough hands would feel against my skin. And where was the kids’ mom that he ended up shopping for a replacement backpack at nine o’clock on a Tuesday? Was he a single parent like me?
I glanced down at his hands. He wore silver rings on several fingers. One depicting a motorcycle running along the band, another showing an elaborately carved sugar skull, another made to look like heavy chain link. But none of the pieces screamed, My baby’s mama put a ring on it.
While I was staring at his manual accessories, his eyes flicked down to my cart and suddenly went wide. I followed his line of sight to the fang-whitening kits.
He smirked at me. “Ohhh, so you’re that mom.”
“That mom?” I asked, cocking my fist on my hip.
“The woman who went nuts and got herself turned into a vampire because she was tryin’ to avoid gray hair and crow’s-feet,” he said, smirking. “Just so ya know, hair dye is cheaper.”
My jaw dropped. That’s what the other moms at school were saying about me? Had they not seen me struggle through the last year with their own eyes? And they thought it was OK to tell one another that my reasons for being turned were cosmetic? I suddenly felt no guilt at all for skipping the room-mom meeting the night before. Let some living mom without a reputation for insane vanity take care of the class parties this year.
And this guy—it wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his lack of preconceived notions.
The Hollow’s gossip circuits ran in concentric socioeconomic circles that never touched. The beauty-parlor circuit ran on a totally different level from the trailer-park-kitchen circuit and even further from the country-club circuit. (Yes, Half-Moon Hollow had a country club. It doubled as a catfish farm, but we had a country club.) Without a sensationalist story in the local paper about a murder trial or some county commissioner getting caught with his pants down, the stories rarely reached all levels. It was sort of refreshing meeting someone who didn’t feel sorry for me. He wasn’t afraid of me. He was annoyed with me based on personal experience alone. And I had to respect that. But still, screw him and his comments about crow’s-feet.
“No, n— What? That’s just freaking rude. I’m not going to take that from someone who has the name of his favorite motorcycle on his arm,” I shot back.
He frowned in confusion and glanced down at his forearm, where he had “Harley” tattooed in flowing, elaborately shaded script. His arms were a mishmash of styles. Golden Japanese koi swam in and out of the crease near his elbow. A bit of cursive peeked out from under his sleeve, but I couldn’t make out what it said. A vintage pinup mermaid curled up on his other forearm. I couldn’t help but wonder where else he had ink and felt sort of sad that I would never find out.
“That’s not my— That’s my son’s name!” he exclaimed.
“You named your son Harley? Please, please tell me his middle name isn’t Davidson.”
“It’s Wade,” he deadpanned. And suddenly, I remembered seeing the name “Wade” stitched on the front of his shirt at school.
“After you, of course. And do you also have a daughter named Chlamydia because it sounded pretty?”
Anger flashed across Wade’s handsome features, but instead of lashing out, he just shook his head. “Were you always this bitter? Or did ya get that installed with your new plastic-surgery fangs?”
“Look, jackass, you don’t even know me. And every time you talk to me, you just spout more hostile bullshit. Why don’t you just stay on this side of the school-supplies aisle, and I’ll stay over there, and we can avoid each other. I don’t know how much more of your charm I can take.”
He grinned, showing surprisingly bright and even teeth. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smack that beautiful smile off his face or yank him close so I could kiss it away. These were not normal thoughts. He was not my type. And I was already conflicted enough with all the naked sire dreams. I did not need this.
“Oh, it’s not charm. I just don’t like ya much,” he drawled.
“Trust me, I’ve deciphered your subtle social cues,” I shot back, pushing my cart toward the notebooks and folders. I turned on the heel of my sensible Keds and called, “By the way, you do realize that I could literally reach down your throat and hand you your own spleen, right?”
A horrified expression dawned on his face, as if he had not, in fact, considered that.
“Just making sure,” I said, smiling just enough to let my dropped fangs show. “You know, so your mouth doesn’t write a check your ass can’t cash.”
“Lunatic,” he muttered under his breath.
“I heard that!” I called as he stalked off.
I managed to recover most of my dignity as I checked off the rest of Danny’s lengthy school-supplies list. I was still trying to figure out what it was about Wade the Angry Janitorial Engineer that set my fangs on edge so easily. Was it because he reminded me so much of my childhood? Because he was the first person to express real and honest reactions to me in years? Or because he was the first person who seemed to be able to take it when I snapped at him?
I didn’t think any of those reasons painted me in a particularly positive light.
I checked out and walked out of the store a ridiculous amount poorer. But the good news was that I was no longer afraid to walk across a dark parking lot by myself. There was an extraordinary amount of freedom in that. I was practically skipping to my van, even with the enormous number of shopping bags I was carrying. Despite its being a relatively nondescript gray, I was able to find the van easily, thanks to the decal on the back that read “I like big books and I cannot lie.” It helped separate my car from all of the other mom-vans with stick-figure families on the back. I had briefly thought about getting a zombie stick family, but considering the whole dead-husband-slash-vampire-mom thing, that was probably unseemly.
And while I found the van easily enough, I also found that there was a motorcycle parked incredibly close to my driver’s-side door. As in, I couldn’t open the damn door. It was a beautiful bike, a sleek black classic Harley-Davidson with a swirling silver pinstripe along the gas tank. But while I could appreciate the aesthetics, I also wanted to drive my car home as opposed to jogging. I loaded the grocery bags into the back hatch and considered using my vampire strength to pick up the Harley and move it. But I’d read somewhere that touching a man’s bike was a big no-no in the motorcycle world, and the last thing I needed to do was piss off a random Hells Angel in a Walmart parking lot.
I would not crawl to the driver’s seat from the back gate of my van. I wasn’t sure my skinny jeans would hold up to the strain. I could crawl in from the passenger’s seat, but I wasn’t actually sure that I could back out of the space without hitting the bike. And while I wasn’t so worried about being beaten up by a biker, I probably couldn’t afford to replace a vintage Harley.
Wait. Harley. Oh, crap.
“Whatever crazy-ass evil thing you’re planning to do to my bike, just back away and do somethin’ else. Crack my kneecap or do the spleen-rippin’ thing, but just leave my bike alone.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt your precious bike,” I shot back as Wade dropped the backpack into a saddlebag slung over his bike’s seat.
“You were thinkin’ about it,” he said, pointing his finger at me.
“I—I was not,” I insisted. “I couldn’t afford to replace it, so I was fighting down the urge.”
He quirked an eyebrow and actually smiled at me. A real, sincere, mockery-free smile that actually made me want to smile back. I bit back the urge, but it was there. “So why are you standin’ here, eyein’ my bike in a suspicious fashion?”
“Because you parked it so freaking close to my van that I couldn’t even get into it.”
“Well, I only parked so close because I got distracted by the ‘big books’ sticker!” he exclaimed.
“What?” I cried.
“It was funny!”
I laughed, pinching the bridge of my nose and trying really hard not to like the cranky redneck. When I looked up, he was still grinning at me. I let loose a shocked gasp. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I accused. “You enjoy winding me up, like some sort of backward, backwoods form of flirting. You’ve got one of those weird fetishes where you can only get turned on by the sound of a woman yelling at you while pelting you with balloons filled with banana pudding.”
Wade went pale, and his full mouth fell open. “I’m tryin’ to come up with a smartass comeback, but my brain seems to have gone ‘TILT.’ ”
I snickered. “That’s not the first time I’ve had that effect on a man.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he drawled.
A smoother, more cultured voice sounded behind me. “Is this man bothering you, miss?”
I turned to find a tall, dark-haired man standing behind us, giving Wade a strong case of side-eye. He was certainly the kind of guy you’d want coming to your rescue—handsome and well dressed in dark jeans and a navy dress shirt rolled at the elbows. His eyes were dark, and his features were even and sort of dignified in that old-fashioned matinee-idol way. Given that I was pretty sure he was a vampire, it was entirely possible he was an old-fashioned matinee idol. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.
He looked vaguely familiar and yet so out of place in the Hollow. But somehow I was glad that he’d stopped to check on me. It gave me hope for the male gender. How wrong would it be for me to play injured party so this gentlemanly vampire would slap Wade around a little bit?
Pretty wrong.
Wade’s face, roguishly handsome though it might have been, could not stand up to a vampire whooping. So instead, I asked, “Do I know you?”
Wade had stepped between me and the newcomer and interjected, “Hell, no, I’m not botherin’ her.”
Mr. Gentleman gave Wade a withering stare. “I think I’ll let the lady answer that.”
“It’s fine,” I assured him. “Just a minor parking disagreement between fellow PTA members.”
Wade’s brows rose, as did the vampire’s. “Really?”
“Look, buddy, we’re not lookin’ for an audience, so keep walking,” Wade told him, making a shooing motion with his arm.
I ignored Wade’s rudeness, saying with saccharine sweetness, “My friend here was just asking me if I thought that his huge motorcycle could be considered a sign that he might be overcompensating for something. And I told him, ‘Don’t be silly, everybody knows that Corvettes are the classic compensation vehicles. Motorcycles are more of a midlife-crisis sort of purchase.’ ”
Wade cleared his throat. “And I told her that she was right, it was way more interestin’ to ride around town in a van that could carry a freakin’ basketball team. I mean, you have one kid, but really, drivin’ a barge is the smart thing to do.”
“Don’t pick on my van,” I retorted.
“Don’t call my bike an overcompensation. I don’t need to compensate for anything.”
“You sound a little defensive there.”
“I swear, woman, you are the most frustratin’ person I have ever met.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” the vampire asked.
“We’re fine,” Wade and I chorused, glaring at each other. And it seemed that we were back to square one in terms of hostilities. It was nice to know we could agree on something, even if it was how much we irritated each other. The vampire stared for a few more beats and then walked away, frowning.
“Just let me back out, and you can climb into your mom-mobile,” Wade sniped, slinging his leg over his bike. I sincerely wished that wasn’t as sexy as it was. Maybe he would have one of those dorky full-face shield helmets that made him look like Darth Vader. Nope, no such luck. The half-helmet, black with a flaming motorcycle wheel painted down the side, just made him look hotter.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you,” I told him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Remember, red lights are for quitters.”
Wade backed out of the space with the Fred Flintstone shuffle, then started his bike. Under the roar of his engine, he was muttering some rude words he thought I couldn’t hear. I smiled, waving as I opened my door.
I sighed, starting my own engine. I wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but it made me smile. I never talked to people like that, much less attractive men. I was not a firecracker. One of the things my late husband had liked most about me was what he called my “sweet nature,” which boiled down to me not complaining about his shenanigans and letting him do whatever he wanted. I did not simultaneously flirt with and insult attractive men on motorcycles. It was Wade’s fault, I told myself. Becoming a vampire couldn’t have changed my nature this much. There was something “special” about his personality that activated the rude, reckless bits of my DNA.
Maybe I should have let that chivalrous vampire slap him around after all.