Love at First Bite Bundle

by Kimberly Raye

  Too close.

  And?

  And nothing. It was what Jake had been waiting for, expecting, and so he shouldn’t have been the least bit freaked out. He was supposed to be celebrating.

  Jake pushed to his feet, dove into the warm spring water and spent the next ten minutes determined to wash away his uneasiness.

  When he was done, he climbed from the water, dropped to his sleeping bag and stretched out. He still had a good hour until sunset. He should try to sleep a little longer. He needed to sleep.

  At the same time, he couldn’t shut out the images that popped into his head. The shadow. The knife. Nikki.

  Her image slipped into his thoughts and he saw her the way she’d been last night—under him, surrounding him, her expression blissful as she came apart in his arms.

  Suddenly the image shifted and she stood in her salon. She wore the same white blouse and black skirt she’d worn yesterday. He watched as she stood at the cash register counting out money, a Closed sign on the front door. She’d just rubber-banded a stack of fives when a hand seemed to come from nowhere and glide around her throat and—

  Jake opened his eyes, killing the image. He scrubbed a hand over his face and sat up.

  Shit. He was going off the deep end. First he couldn’t sleep and now he was imagining Nikki facing the same situation he’d faced.

  She wouldn’t. Vampires were few and far between and there were none—besides himself—in Skull Creek.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Even when Sam arrived, he wouldn’t get a chance to hurt anybody. Jake would take him out too fast. Clean and swift and dead.

  And then Jake would be free.

  He pulled on his jeans and a T-shirt and stepped into his boots. Climbing onto his bike, he kicked the engine to life and hauled ass into town to see Nikki.

  The sex, he told himself as he maneuvered through the trees toward the main road. With Sam so close, Jake needed all the power he could get. And fast. The plaque, not to mention Jake’s research, listed the date of death seven days from now. Which meant at midnight, when next Sunday rolled into Monday, Sam would revisit the exact spot where he’d turned. Jake had to soak up as much energy as possible before then.

  His sudden anxiety certainly had nothing to do with the fierce surge of protectiveness that swamped him every time he thought about someone hurting her.

  12

  “SO WHAT DO YOU THINK of my new eyebrows?”

  Nikki stood in the recreation room at Golden Acres and stared at the bright red arches that had been carefully tattooed above Eula Holly’s eyes.

  Eula was in her nineties, a small woman with dyed red hair and frosted orange lipstick. Back in the day, Eula had been named Miss October at the Fall Ball five years in a row. Now she spent her time knitting and playing dominoes with her twin sister, Beula. She and Beula shared a room, as well as the same shade of lipstick, and they were always the first customers in line when Nikki made her weekly stop at the retirement home.

  “I saw it in one of them fashion magazines and so’s I had it done yesterday when we took our weekly field trip to Austin for lunch and shopping.” She held up her bony fingers, which trembled ever so slightly. “My hands were starting to shake so bad when I tried to pencil them in that I figured this would save me a lot of trouble.”

  “And doctor bills,” Beula, just as small with the same shade of hair, added. “Eula here stabbed herself in the eye two weeks ago. And the week before that she stabbed herself in the ear.” Beula shrugged, “Who knew her aim could be that off?”

  “Ronald Dupree came up behind me and scared the bejesus out of me, that’s all,” Eula said defensively.

  “You’re just getting old,” Beula told her. “We all are. That’s why we’re here.”

  Because they were old. And because most had been forgotten. There were a few who received the dutiful visits from sons and daughters and grandchildren. But most of the residents at Golden Acres were there because they had nowhere else—and no one else who cared one way or another.

  Eula and Beula weren’t that much older than Nikki’s aunt Izzie. In fact, they played bingo with her every Saturday night.

  Not that Izzie would ever be forgotten. When the time came, Nikki would be there for Izzie the way Izzie had been there for her.

  And Jolene?

  Jolene would be there, too. She seemed almost heartless at times, but she wasn’t. She was simply spoiled.

  “You might be this side of giving up the ghost, but I’m not,” Eula went on, distracting Nikki from her thoughts. “I’m still as spry as ever.” Her hand trembled and she caught it with her other and held them in her lap. “I am,” she said as if to convince herself more than Nikki. “So what do you think? They look perfect to me.”

  “That’s ’cause you cain’t see two inches in front of your face,” Beula chimed in. “You need to wear your glasses.”

  “I do not need to wear glasses. Those are just for reading.”

  “The doctor said to wear them all the time.”

  “What does he know? The last time I was at his office, he was two hours late for my appointment. Probably out running around with God knows who.”

  “You were two hours early on account of you can’t see the dadburned clock.”

  “I can see just fine.”

  “When you’re wearing your glasses,” Beula pointed out. “Tell her, would ya, Nikki? She’s as blind as an old bat.”

  Nikki surveyed the eyebrows which were, hands down, about three shades too bright for the old woman’s deep red hair color.

  Nikki chose her words carefully. “It might be a good idea to wear your glasses a little more often.” When Eula looked ready to tear up she added, “Not that the color’s off. It’s just that you look really nice in glasses. They make your eyes seem bigger and brighter.”

  “They do?”

  “Absolutely. As for the eyebrows…” She studied the woman’s hair for a long second. “I’ve been thinking that we should lighten you up a little, maybe add a few highlights. If we do that, the eyebrows will be perfect.” Or at least close enough for Eula not to be embarrassed. Nikki gave the older woman an encouraging smile. “I bet that’s what you were thinking when you had the eyebrows done, wasn’t it? Talk about intuitive.”

  “It was?” As if Nikki’s meaning seemed to sink in, she nodded. “Yep, that’s right. That’s exactly what I was thinking. See there, Beula? I was right on the money when I asked for this color.”

  “Harrumph,” Beula snorted. “Let’s hope your intuition holds up later when it really counts. You’re playing tonight, aren’t you, Nikki? The girls and I saved a spot for you.”

  Nikki nodded toward her purse. “I’m armed and ready.”

  She spent the next hour giving Eula highlights. After that, she did a set and roll on Beula, perms on Mrs. Hargrove and Mrs. Weatherspoon, three more colors and then a cut and blow-dry on Mr. Crabtree.

  Being at Golden Acres every Sunday afternoon was like watching a CNN marathon. She heard about everything from a shooting in Detroit to a man caught flashing himself during a NASCAR race in California to the latest controversy going on in the retirement home’s cafeteria.

  “So I told everyone you’ve got to have the tapioca on account of some people are allergic to chocolate and it just ain’t right to alienate good folks on account of they have delicate digestive systems,” Mr. Crabtree said, his expression serious.

  “Couldn’t you just serve tapioca and chocolate cake and let everyone pick their poison?”

  “The cook will only make one dessert per night. And she ain’t even inclined to do that after those busybodies in the knitting circle passed around a petition trying to get her ousted on account of they said she was being uncooperative. You’d be uncooperative, too, if you had a bunch of know-it-alls telling you how to do your job.” Mr. Crabtree leaned closer to the mirror. “I think you might have missed a spot right here.”

  “Really? Let me fix that.” She pretende
d to snip off a few wayward hairs. “There. All done.”

  “If you ask me, the world’s goin’ to hell pretty damned fast.”

  “Just because the knitting circle wants chocolate cake? Maybe they just like chocolate. I’ve got a weakness for Milky Ways myself.”

  “Why, not a one of those old biddies would touch the candy bars in the vending machine on account of their sugar until Margaret Waller’s granddaughter bought her a subscription to that there Cosmo magazine. Then they read that chocolate is one of those afro-dee-zee-ac foods—you know, the ones that make you frisky. And—bam—the vending guy cain’t keep the machine filled fast enough. Next thing you know, they’re protesting the supper menu.”

  That explained the last poker night. Eula had dumped an entire bag of M&M’s into the Chex mix. Nikki had thought the woman had just slipped thanks to her trembling hands, but now she realized the candy had been intentional. The ladies at Golden Acres were obviously trying to sex things up.

  “It’s a conspiracy, I tell you,” Mr. Crabtree went on. “All them bigwigs in the government think if they turn us on ourselves, females against the males, that they’ll create this division. Then they can swoop right in and raise taxes and no one will be the wiser.”

  Mr. Crabtree hadn’t paid taxes in a few decades, but Nikki didn’t point that out. He was on a roll, the color in his usually pasty cheeks blazing, and she couldn’t help but grin.

  She dabbed a pea-size amount of gel on her hands and finger-combed it through Mr. Crabtree’s thick white hair. “Every woman wants to feel sexy once in a while. Maybe it’s as simple as that.”

  He snorted. “The only thing we need even less than higher taxes is a bunch of oversexed eighty-and ninety-year-olds. I can barely lift the lid on the toilet, let alone anything else.”

  “Oh.” She wiped off her hands on a small towel as he leaned toward the oval mirror she’d set up on the table. “Maybe the chocolate cake would help?”

  “I ate a whole case of Snickers last month, and the only thing that went through the roof was my sugar.” He shook his head. “Nah, I think it’s time I just accepted the fact that I’m getting old and I ain’t what I used to be.” He peered into the mirror and touched a few strands of hair. “Even so, I am still a mighty fine-looking man for my age. No wonder I’m a sitting duck for that Ethel Culpepper. She’s the one leading the fight. Stops by my room every night to ask me if I want to watch Letterman and drink hot chocolate. I say no, but she keeps coming back.”

  “I’d take it easy on her. She’s only human—and you are pretty hot for eighty-six.”

  His chest puffed. “I’m actually eighty-nine.”

  “No way?”

  He smoothed a few more strands of hair. “I guess it ain’t really Ethel’s fault.”

  “You do have it going on in a major way.”

  He beamed as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. “Much obliged, little lady.” He pressed it into her palm and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a sweetheart.”

  A warmth spread through Nikki and she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Don’t go spending that on chocolate to torture that new fella of yours,” Mr. Crabtree added.

  “You know about Jake?”

  “Honey, everybody’s heard about Jake. You don’t think we just talk about tapioca all day, do you?” He winked and hobbled off toward the iced tea and sugar-free cookies being served at the snack bar.

  “I say we head for the nearest vending machine and snag a candy bar.” She felt as much as heard the deep voice and she whirled smack-dab into a rock-hard chest. Strong, familiar hands came up to steady her. His husky laughter rumbled in her ears. “Easy, Trouble.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Sneak up on me like that.” Her gaze collided with his and her stomach bottomed out. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to know where you get your sexual appetite. How long have you been addicted to Milky Ways?”

  “I’m not addicted to Milky Ways. I just indulge myself once in a while. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.” He glanced around. “What are you doing here?”

  “Most of the residents don’t drive. There’s a bus, but it’s used mainly for field trips. Since the people here can’t come to me so easily, I just come to them.”

  He eyed the empty containers of hair products scattered across the table. “Looks like good business.”

  “Hardly. Most of them are on social security and they can’t really afford to get their hair done every week.”

  “So you do it for free?”

  She patted her pocket. “I make plenty of tips.”

  “Sugar, you’re not making enough to buy yourself lunch.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not about that.”

  He stared at her long and hard then, as if he couldn’t help but wonder what it was about.

  “How did you find me?” she asked, eager to change the subject.

  He glanced at the table and grinned. “I followed the trail of hair products.”

  “Very funny.” She tried to calm her suddenly pounding heart, but it was no use. He was too close and too warm, his gaze much too intense. “So what do you want?”

  “This.” He leaned down and claimed her mouth for a long, deep, stirring kiss.

  Her lips tingled and her nipples pebbled, and just like that she was hungry for him all over again.

  “You asked me to play the boyfriend, so here I am.” He winked. “Ready, willing and able. So tell me, Trouble, what do boyfriends and girlfriends do around town on a Sunday night?”

  She had a sudden vision of Jake’s hard, tanned body splayed across her daisy print sheets. “A movie,” she blurted, eager to push the vision far, far away. Sexy thoughts were fine. Understandable. But no way was she taking Jake home.

  Temporary, she reminded herself.

  “Or ice cream at the Dairy Diva,” she added. “Or bingo at the community center. Or the carnival again. That’s about it tonight. Tomorrow night the preliminary rodeo events will start and continue through the championship. Then there’s the Fall Ball on Friday.”

  “What were you going to do tonight?”

  “Try out some different paint colors in my kitchen.” She’d picked up eight different cans, including the red and the yellow.

  “I could help.”

  “No,” she blurted. The last thing—the very last thing—she wanted was to have Jake filling up her tiny kitchen. “We really should do something in public. So people can see us.”

  “Let’s do the movie, then.” He picked up her bag and winked. “After you, sugar.”

  Jake followed her out to the SUV and loaded her supplies into the back. “I’ll follow you to your place and we can drop off your car.”

  She nodded and headed for home. Her heart pounded and her blood rushed in anticipation. She remembered what her mother had said about her clothes and she contemplated changing.

  This isn’t a real relationship. You don’t have to impress him.

  She didn’t, no matter how much she suddenly wanted to.

  Five minutes later, she still wore her baggy jeans and T-shirt. She straddled the bike behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. The engine roared, the bike jerked, and then they were zooming through town, headed for the small theater that sat at the corner of Main and Fourth.

  Jake steered into a parking spot near the curb and Nikki climbed off. He retrieved her purse from the saddlebags draped across the bike and handed it to her.

  “What do you have in that thing? Rocks?”

  “Lemon drops,” she blurted. “Two pounds of them.”

  As the realization hit, guilt rose inside of her like a tidal wave that welled and crashed, hauling her back under.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “What’s wrong?” She heard the concern in his voice a heartbeat before she felt h
is fingertips brush along her cheekbone, beckoning her to look at him. “Nikki? What is it?”

  “Poker night.” Her gaze collided with his. “I forgot poker night. At the seniors’ center.” She shook her head again. “I never forget poker night.”

  Until Jake.

  He’d walked in, kissed her and—bam—the only thing she’d been able to think of had been him.

  “I can’t believe I forgot.” But it was all too believable. Like mother, like daughter.

  “I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”

  The thing was, Nikki wasn’t so sure she could forgive herself. She’d known Jake roughly forty-eight hours, and despite her best efforts, she was letting him rearrange her priorities.

  “I have to call them.” She started for a nearby pay phone. “I need to apologize.”

  “No, you don’t.” Jake reached for her hand.

  She tried to pull away. “I can’t not call. They’ll worry about me.”

  “No, they won’t.” She tugged her hand, but he tugged harder, hauling her a few inches before she managed to dig in her heels again.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because you’re going.” His words killed her resistance as he pulled her toward the bike, his expression so fierce, so determined, so compassionate, that she could almost believe he wanted more from her than just a moment’s pleasure. “We both are.”

  FOR THE FIRST TIME in over a hundred years Jake McCann was playing poker again.

  Only this time, instead of beating the pants off a table of roughneck cowboys, he was losing to a blue-haired lady named Ethel.

  “I’ll see your piddly five,” she told him, “and raise you ten.” She slid the bright yellow pieces of sugarcoated candy toward the middle of the table.

  “That’s too rich for my blood.” Nikki set her cards on the table. “I’m out. Literally.” She stared at the empty spot where her own stash had once sat before shifting her gaze to the woman next to her.

  “Me, too,” Beula said.

  The sentiment echoed around the table until the only one still in the game was Jake. But not for long. Ethel had all but wiped him out and this was his last hand if he didn’t win.