Fangs for the Memories(10)
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I challenged him.
He grumbled, “You’re not.”
I preened, but only a little bit. “It’s great that you told Mr. Wainwright. Now he knows what you did for him, that he wasn’t as alone as he thought he was. You said he was happy and grateful to hear that you were related. That’s not going to stop because of timing issues. Now, be the vampire I know you can be, get some perspective, and build a loving relationship with your grandson. Or do I need to keep insulting you for a while to get my point across?”
“No, nope, I got it.” Dick nodded and wiped at his cheeks with vampire speed so I wouldn’t notice the traces of moisture on his skin. “Now, what’s with all the iron pills, Red?” he asked. “You feeling all right?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Sophie set up an appointment for me later tonight with a new vampire who’s nervous about feeding. I’m heading out in a bit.”
“I could come with you, you know. Make sure you’re safe during the meet-and-bite and then take you out to get rehydrated,” he said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “I could be your entourage. Your water-bottle-carrying, over-protective entourage.”
“Yes, because nothing sets the tone for what is already an uncomfortable experience like bringing along a bodyguard. I like my clients to know that I don’t trust them as soon as I walk in the door.”
“I’m just not comfortable with you going out on these appointments for money,” he told me.
“Could you please rephrase that so I don’t sound like the title character in that ‘Roxanne’ song?”
Dick muttered, “I worry about you. “
“I appreciate that, but I’m a grown woman. I don’t need you to keep tabs on me.”
“I don’t think of it as keeping tabs. It’s more like observing closely in a manner that you might not always be aware of but is mostly harmless.”
“Dick.”
“I said mostly!” He scowled. “What more do you want from me, woman?”
“I wish you were less charming while stalking me. And I’m sorry about the yelling and the ‘cry me a river’ thing,” I said, patting his arm. “My reaction to death is bizarre and socially unacceptable.”
“That’s OK. You’re kind of adorable when you’re yelling at me . . . in a supportive fashion. Other types of yelling from you are still pretty scary,” he said. “Also, I wouldn’t mind kissing you again, under better circumstances.”
“Now you’re pushing it.”
“And I was hoping that you might go with me to Zeb and Jolene’s wedding,” he added. “As sort of a trial date? In fact, maybe we could go to the rehearsal together and you could decide whether to go to the wedding with me. Like a pretrial date or a hearing . . . wait, no . . . that’s not right.”
I laughed. Jane had known Zeb since they were small children. He was a sweetheart—a goofy, unflappable guy Jane just sort of pulled into the supernatural world along with her. He wasn’t the alpha-male type. He was a kindergarten teacher, for goodness’ sake. And somehow he’d attracted the attention of one of the most ridiculously beautiful women I’d ever met—who also happened to be a werewolf. Jolene adored him, and he was comfortable with letting her be the alpha in the relationship. Their wedding promised to be the supernatural social event of the season—if everybody survived.
“You’re throwing around a lot of quasi-legal terms right now, Cheney, which makes me doubt the wisdom of agreeing to any sort of date with you.”
“But I do have you intrigued,” he noted. “Admit it.”
“I admit nothing.”
“Have I mentioned that it’s a Titanic-themed wedding?” he asked, grinning broadly.
“Of course it is. Why don’t you just go find some other girl to harass?” I asked him.
“I don’t want to harass other girls. I want to harass you.”
“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”
That familiar grin parted his lips, and somehow everything seemed right with the world for a brief second. “Never.”
4
Find ways to fill your time and meet new people. Join a club. Attend local support group meetings. Avoid rom-coms and ice cream.
—Surviving the Undead Breakup: A Human’s Guide to Healing
I didn’t really trust Dick not to follow me to my appointment, so I followed him back to his trailer—the new trailer to replace the one recently blown up by his crazy supervillain-with-benefits, Missy, the murderous Realtor—and made sure he had intentions to stay there. Because that was normal behavior, right?