“Took you long enough.”
Startled by the low voice—and damn him that sexy slow drawl—Jess snarled and slammed her back against the opposite elevator wall.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Don’t sneak up on me like that, Bobby Ray!”
“Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to startle you into blaspheming. Though I’m never quite sure how you don’t know when someone’s standing right next to you. We’re supposed to have enhanced skills.”
“I was taking care of something.”
“So I could see. Man, those little fingers move fast.”
“They’re not little.”
He grabbed hold of her right forefinger and lifted her hand. “Like a leprechaun’s hands.”
Trying not to notice how good his rough fingers felt on hers, she snatched her hand back. After all these years—and with her at a cool five feet nine inches—Smitty still called her small. Of course, compared to those linebackers he called She-wolves...
“They are not like a leprechaun’s hands! Now, is there a reason you stopped the elevator?”
“I see you still have your allergy to flowers,” he said, stunning her that he actually remembered after all these years. “Is that why you left the room without talking to me?”
“Talk to you?”
“Yeah, remember? I told you I wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay.” Resigned to her fate, Jess waited for him to say something. After a good three minutes of mutual staring, she realized that wouldn’t be happening. “And what would you like to talk about, Bobby Ray?”
“First off, feel free to call me Smitty. Everyone does now. And second, I wanted to talk about you.”
“What about me?”
“I’d like to know what you’ve been doing all this time. Where you went. How you got here.”
Truly perplexed, she asked, “Why?”
“’Cause I’m interested.”
Jess gave a short shake of her head. “No.”
“No?”
“No.”
She hit the elevator button and the doors opened on the same floor, but Bobby Ray—Smitty—hit it again and the doors closed.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to talk to you.”
“I said no.”
“Why not?”
“Is your sister in town with you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“And Ronnie Lee Reed?”
“Yeah, she is—”
“Then I have nothing to say.”
She hit the elevator button again and so did Smitty. “What do they have to do with anything?”
“They made my life hell. For all I know, you guys are just setting me up for some cruel joke. I’ll end up walking down the street like in Carrie, wearing a prom dress and covered in pig’s blood.”
Smitty shook his head. “I don’t understand anything of what you just said.”
“Yeah, I know. We’ve never spoken the same language.”
“You mean English?”
“No, geek. Now if you’ll excuse me... ” Again, she hit the button. And again, so did he. “Would you stop doing that!”
“Then stop trying to rabbit away from me.”
Frustrated and getting kind of worked up being trapped in such a small box with one testosterone-saturated male, Jess crossed her arms over her chest and braced her legs apart. “What do you want, Smith?”He stared at her for a long moment before finally saying, “I thought we could hang out.”
“Hang out?”
“Jessie Ann, we were friends. I’d like to continue that.”
“Friends?” Now Jess stared. “You are setting me up. Did your sister put you up to this? Little more torture for the dog. For Spot?”
“I didn’t know she called you that. And just leave her out of this. I’m talking about you and me spending some time together.”
“Forget it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not an idiot.”
“Jessie Ann—”
“It’s Jessica. Or Jess. No one calls me Jessie Ann.”
“Except me.”
“Look, are you letting me out of here, or do I have to start screaming for help?”
“If you don’t want to go out with me, fine. But know that I’m not setting you up for anything. I wouldn’t do that to you, Jessie Ann. You of all people should know that about me.”
Smitty pushed the button once more and walked out when the doors opened. Jess stared after him and, with a sigh of great annoyance, followed.
Smitty stepped off the elevator and ignored the sighed, “Smitty. Wait.”
Forced to use extreme measures and manipulations to get this difficult woman to give him what he wanted, Smitty utilized the hurt walk-away. It didn’t work on his sister, but Ronnie Lee fell for it every time.
He headed toward Brendon and Mitch, who stood a few feet away raiding the vending machines, but he wasn’t remotely surprised to feel Jessie’s hand grab the sleeve of his jacket.
“Smitty, hold on a sec.”
He raised his eyebrows to Shaw and Mitch before facing her. “What?”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”
“Then you did a mighty good job.”
“Are you actually... you’re serious? You’re really upset?”
He just stared at her, making sure his expression didn’t change. A cool move he’d learned from Mace years ago. Cats did have interesting skills, if you were willing to learn.
“Aw, Smitty, I wasn’t trying to—”
Jessie stopped and looked over Smitty’s shoulders at the two cats standing there doing what they all did so well... staring. And eating.
“Can I help you two with something?” she asked, obviously more than a little annoyed.
“No,” Shaw answered. “We’re fine.”
“You just keep talking,” Mitch added. “This is fascinating.”
“No, fascinating is what I’m gonna do to that pretty face—”
Smitty grabbed Jessie’s arms and pulled her back down the hallway toward the elevators. He’d forgotten about her temper. The girl could get mad at a bag of donuts.
“Now, now, Jessie Ann. Just calm down.”
“I will not calm—ooh! Chocolate.” And like that, Jessie wandered over to the nurses’ station desk to look over bars of chocolate someone had out to sell for their child. She never did stay angry long.
Smitty remembered how it had taken him a while to figure out Jessie wasn’t some flaky pup wandering from thing to thing, like most dogs, looking for a new smell or something to eat. Once she focused on something, absolutely nothing would distract her. But you had to be interesting enough to hold her attention; otherwise, she’d wander away in the middle of a sentence.
The thought that he might not be interesting enough to hold little Jessie Ann’s attention had his back teeth grinding. He simply wouldn’t allow her to dismiss him so easily. He wanted answers, dammit, and he’d get them.
Determined, he walked over to the desk and leaned against it while Jessie talked to the nurse manning the station.
“How much?” she asked.
“Dollar a piece. My son’s class is trying to take a trip to DC this summer.”
Jessie dug into her jeans pocket and pulled out a ten. “Here. I’ll take five.”
“Let me get you change.”
“Nah, put it toward his trip.”
The nurse smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Carefully selecting from the bars in front of her, Jessie quickly had her five. She handed one to Smitty. “Caramel,” she said simply.
She walked away and he stared at the candy in his hand. After all these years she remembered his favorite chocolate? He glanced at the stack left. There were chocolates with caramel and nuts. Caramel, nougat, and nuts. White chocolate with caramel. On and on it went. But he’d never liked any of that. He’d only liked chocolate-covered caramel.
Slowly, Smitty turned and looked at Jessie Ann. Really looked at her.
She was a bit taller now. Easily five-nine or so. Small for a wolf or most cats, tall for a full-human. Her jeans were everyday. No low riders with her underwear showing. She wore jeans to lounge in, not to entice. Her sneakers had seen better days, but she always liked to wear them until they literally fell off her feet. Her sweatshirt had COMIC-CON blazoned on both sides with a date nearly five years ago. And while standing in front of the elevator, she silently pretended her chocolate bars were Samurai swords. He knew this because she took up a stance you’d see in any bad American remake of a great Japanese Samurai movie.
Unable to resist, he said softly, “Jessie Ann Ward, what are you doing?”
Startled, Jessie snapped to attention, lowering her arms and her chocolate “swords,” and answered back, “Nothin’.”
Smitty grinned. He’d forgotten how much he’d always enjoyed her. With her brains came her wackiness, and he enjoyed them both.
Sauntering over, Smitty said, “Come over for dinner tonight.” She opened her mouth and he quickly promised, “Only me and you. No Sissy. No Ronnie Lee. No anybody.”
Her adorable face scrunched up with indecision. “Smitty, I don’t know—”
Now walking around her, “I’ll make my momma’s key lime pie... .”
“Nice try... but no.”
“Fried chicken. Yams.”
“I hate yams.”
“Come on, Jessie Ann. What do I need to do to convince you—”
“Not be you.”