What’s New Pussycat(39)

“I get it.”

But Derrick’s mouth had become a harsh slash in his beautiful face. His disappointment, his hurt, radiated from him, and it stung her as a result. “If I ever believed any two people were meant for each other, it was my parents. They had a solid marriage. My mother still thinks they do.”

Martine paused for a moment, searching for the right response to something she didn’t believe in either. But for some reason, she didn’t want Derrick to give up hope. It was irrationally important to her that he kept the faith. “Maybe she knows something no one else does? Isn’t love like that, though? Doesn’t love involve hope? Doesn’t it involve faith in the person you fell in love with? Trust and understanding?” Didn’t it?

“I’m sure it does. It doesn’t involve deserting your family.”

She cocked her head, confused by how his words sat with her. Why was it okay for her not to believe in all those platitudes, but it wasn’t okay for Derrick? Why did that matter? “So you’ve never been in love…like that?”

He shook his dark head, his eyes now on her. “Nope. You?”

“No.” The moment the word slipped from her mouth, she felt a deep sadness, as though someone had planted a seed and she’d watered it and cared for it, but it refused to grow.

“Then how can you defend him?”

She flapped her hand up in the air, exhaling a breath into the chilled night. “Oh, I’m not defending anything, Farm Boy. I’m just not emotionally involved the way you are. It lends to a different perspective is all. To see your mother’s face light up when she talks about your father, and she only did so in the vaguest of the sense…she makes me believe, I guess.”

Derrick chucked her under the chin, his expression lighter now. “Are you falling for the bullshit after only one conversation with my mother?”

Was she? No. Never. “No. I’m saying your mother believes, and I’ve never loved anyone like that, so who am I to say it doesn’t exist? I’m no one, that’s who. So ease up there, Adams, and let your mom be.”

It was equally important to her that Derrick let his mom have her dream. She didn’t understand the reasoning behind that either, but it seemed so important to Faith, she was willing to forgo her skepticism.

Derrick’s jaw clenched then unclenched, his face changing from dark to light. “Whaddaya say we change the subject? Like, I was thinking…”

Here it came. The dreaded explanation she was going to have to give him for last night. She mentally began to prepare by doing what she’d been doing—hedging. “About?”

“What you said the other night about shifting and hating paranormals.”

“I don’t hate them. I hate their stupid rules. That you’re a fan of them after this curse is a source of constant amazement for me.”

He grinned—deliciously, mischievously. “Let’s shift. Together. Let me show you my world from my point of view.” Holding out his hand, he hitched his jaw toward the forest. “C’mon. It’s good exercise.”

Martine smiled, shooting him one of her best smoldering yet coy glances. “Is this your way of saying I need a good workout?”

“Hell, no. Believe when I say, I like you just the way you are. I’m saying let’s take a run together. Maybe I can show you what it’s like to be free enough to just be who you are. Who you really are. Not just who the human world sees. Also, if I do say so myself, the shift to werewolf is pretty amazing. Thought you might want to see it.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words of approval.

Flushed? Her cheeks never flushed. Nothing on her flushed over a man. Yet, here she was, flushing. And he was avoiding the subject of his father. But who was she to press a sore subject anyway?

You mean like you’re stalling having that conversation you promised yourself you’d have?

Shhh. It can wait just a little longer. Hot man wants to show me his hotness. “So like right here? Out in the open?”

Removing his coat, he dropped it to the ground and nodded. “Right here, right now. In fact, I dare you, Pussycat.”

“You’re on,” she said, determined to try to see someone else’s value in this. More importantly, she wanted to see what Derrick loved so much about being a werewolf.

Closing her eyes, she focused on morphing. It took more effort than she was sure was normal, but it wasn’t something she ever did very eagerly to begin with.

It didn’t bring her the kind of peace it seemed to bring Derrick, but she was willing to give it a go. Rolling her head on her neck, the crush of bones twisting began, moving, shifting positions, realigning as her clothing melted away.