The Better To Kiss You With
Page 2
“Of course.” Trying not to look as though she was fleeing, Deanna shoved her feet back into her flats and let herself out, closing the door firmly behind her.
In her own apartment, and after Arthur had given her an enthusiastic welcome back that left her with dog hair all over her dress, Deanna went into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of cold water. What she really needed, she thought with a mental groan, was a cold shower. She took a sip of water, and then pressed the side of the glass to her still-heated cheeks. What was it about Jamie that left her so flustered?
Okay, it probably had something to do with Jamie’s wide mouth and clever hands, and the impressive way Jamie’s muscles had worked under her T-shirt as she’d climbed the stairs.
Maybe Deanna just needed to get laid. Or get off. Maybe, she tapped a finger pensively against the glass, an orgasm or two would exorcize her increasingly embarrassing crush.
Emboldened by the idea, Deanna took another long drink and went into the main room. One of the downsides of not living with a roommate was that she couldn’t afford an apartment with a separate bedroom, so a single room had to double as both her living room and her bedroom. The sofa bed was one of the world’s greatest inventions.
Deanna put the glass down on the coffee table and ducked into the bathroom. She pulled open a drawer on the bottom of her wardrobe, another concession to the small space, to find her vibrator. After untangling it from several pairs of underwear, she pushed the drawer closed with her foot and returned to the living room, putting the vibrator down beside the water glass before she turned to pull the curtains across the window.
As she was bending to pull off the couch cushions, there was a knock outside. Arthur rose from his bed in her tiny entranceway and stood at the door, tail wagging. It didn’t sound like the knock had been on Deanna’s door, but Arthur looked as if he expected company. Frowning, she crossed the room and pushed Arthur out of her way, then stood on tiptoe to look out the peephole.
Across the hall, at her neighbor Heather’s door, stood Jamie. She seemed to be holding something, but it was between her body and Heather’s door, so Deanna couldn’t see what. Now that she knew no one was at her own door, Deanna knew she should quit watching—spying, really—but she couldn’t bring herself to stop.
Did Jamie know Heather? How was it that two of her nearest neighbors were friends and Deanna hadn’t ever seen them together? Deanna’s workplace was online, so she could work from anywhere, which meant she was home often enough that she ought to have noticed.
Heather opened the door, and Jamie stepped back.
“Yes?” Heather asked.
“Hi, sorry,” Jamie rubbed a hand over the back of her neck and, despite herself, Deanna pressed closer to the door so she could hear their conversation better. “I’m actually looking for Deanna.”
“Who?” Heather frowned, and Deanna dropped her forehead against the door in front of her. Heather was pushing ninety and, while she was probably more physically fit than Deanna, she occasionally had what she’d call “senior moments.”
“Oh, um.” Jamie’s ears pinked. “I think she lives on this floor? Pretty, blonde, sometimes wears glasses. She has a dog?”
Heather nodded knowingly. “Oh, of course. You mean Deanna. She’s just across the hall.” Heather pointed, and Jamie turned, and Deanna scrambled back from the door.
“Thank you,” Deanna heard Jamie say and then heard Heather’s door close. Though if she knew Heather at all, the older woman would be pressed up against her door just as Deanna had been. At the sound of footsteps in the hall, Arthur’s tail began to wag furiously. Jamie knocked.
Deanna stood, frozen, for one long heartbeat before her brain kicked back into gear. She muscled Arthur out of the way and turned the lock. She was about to swing the door open, thinking she should make the best of this moment and invite Jamie in for a glass of wine, but as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure her living room was presentable, Deanna caught sight of her vibrator, flamboyantly purple in the center of her coffee table.
Oh, shit.
Because Jamie was just inches away and would be able to hear the hesitation between Deanna unlocking the door and opening it, Deanna twisted the knob and pulled it open just a fraction. Beside her, Arthur gave an annoyed whine and tried to wriggle past. Deanna had to slam her hip into the doorframe to block him.
“Hi,” she said, flashing a smile as she prayed that Jamie wouldn’t be able to see inside.
“Hi.” Jamie’s thick eyebrows furrowed as Arthur tried again to get past Deanna and say his own hello.
“Arthur’s covered in, um, flea powder,” Deanna improvised. “Otherwise I’d… well. Anyway. What can I do for you?” Deanna had to tilt her head up ever so slightly to meet Jamie’s eyes, and for the briefest moment she could have sworn Jamie’s eyes dropped to Deanna’s lips.
“You forgot these.” Jamie held out the bundle of tulips, and Deanna blushed.
Deanna took the flowers and forced herself to take a slow breath. She was not a flustered disaster. She was calm and collected and—she reminded herself with a hint of delight—the person she had a total crush on thought she was pretty. She could do this one thing without making a fool of herself. “Thank you,” she said gracefully.
“You’re welcome.” Jamie had no reason to linger at Deanna’s doorway, not when she’d already given Deanna her flowers, and Deanna had already offered an excuse for not inviting her in, but she hadn’t moved.
Deanna clamped down on the stream of mindless babble that had flown to the tip of her tongue and tried to stay relaxed, a tricky feat, since Arthur still hadn’t given up trying to push past her legs. God, she wished she’d left her vibrator in the drawer. If she could invite Jamie in, maybe she could find out why Jamie was looking at Deanna as if she was a question and Jamie didn’t know the answer.
Deanna’s pulse quickened as Jamie made no move to leave, and when Jamie’s lips parted Deanna’s breath caught in her throat.
“I— left the milk out,” Jamie said finally, drawing back. Deanna ignored the sudden ache in the center of her chest and curled her fingers around the door. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and stop Jamie from leaving.
“You should put it away,” Deanna agreed. Jamie gave a slow nod and, with a wave, turned and headed down the hallway.
Beside Deanna, Arthur gave a long, unhappy whine and finally quit trying to press past her. “I know, baby,” Deanna soothed, closing the door and petting his head. “I know.”
Deanna took Arthur on a long walk that evening. He was overjoyed when she steered them toward the large forested park that separated the university from the rest of the city. Since Arthur was nearly impossible to drag out of the woods in under an hour, the adventure usually took at least two, and Deanna only took him a few times a month.
At the edge of the trees, she unclipped Arthur’s leash. Technically this spot wasn’t an off-leash area, but Arthur rarely ventured far out of her sight. And if he did, he was more than ready to come back when she called.
Arthur barked happily and bounded playfully around her before racing into the woods.
Wishing she’d remembered to bring her iPod, Deanna tucked her hands into her pockets and headed down the path. This part of the park wasn’t isolated. It was close enough to one of the main roads to the university that the orange glow of streetlights filtered through the trees to her left, and Deanna didn’t have too much trouble seeing the path. Farther into the trees it grew darker, but Deanna’s eyes had adjusted enough that she could see where she was going. It helped that Arthur’s coat was so light in color that he tended to stand out like a wriggling and occasionally muddy beacon.
It wasn’t raining, at least. Deanna was grateful for that, but the air was still damp and cool with the threat of it. It lent the woods an eerie feel, as though they were far removed from civilization.
Deanna kicked a fallen branch out of her way and tried to relax. She could feel the tension in her face, which meant she’d been holding onto a frown for longer than necessary. She shouldn’t be so hung up on something that had happened hours ago. Just because she’d barged into a stranger’s apartment and had to be not-so-subtly asked to leave didn’t mean she’d die a shriveled old crone with no one but Arthur for company. And said stranger coming to find her afterward to return her forgotten tulips was nothing more than Jamie being neighborly, certainly not an indication that Jamie was as attracted to Deanna as Deanna was to her. Deanna was reading way too much into what was nothing more than an everyday occurrence between two people who happened to live in the same building.
“This is why I don’t like crushes. They make me stupid,” she muttered as she followed the curve of the trail deeper into the woods.
Arthur popped out of the trees ahead of her and waited on the path as though to signal that he agreed. She made a face at him, and with a snort he ran back into the trees.
“It’s fine,” she called after him. “Not like I need some friendly reassurance that I’m not a total ass.”
Silence greeted her. Even Arthur thought she had been an idiot. Wonderful.
Now that they were farther into the forest, the glow of the waxing moon shone through a break in the trees. Since the light pollution had eased somewhat, Deanna could catch a glimmer of stars. If she went deep enough, following this trail to the amphitheater at the center of the park, she’d be able to see whole constellations. That was an extra hour’s walk, though, so Deanna didn’t often venture that far.
Nearing the giant stump that Deanna used to mark her and Arthur’s usual turn-back point, Deanna realized that it had been too long since Arthur had last doubled back to her.
“You’ve got to stop doing this to me,” she complained, attempting to cover her worry with irritation. “I don’t know what your problem is lately. Arthur!” When a rustle of underbrush and the jangle of his dog tags didn’t immediately answer her call, she repeated it, louder. “Arthur!”
A dart of panic tightened her throat, and Deanna picked up her pace, her lazy stroll now an urgent half-jog. She’d seen Arthur go into the woods on her right, and it stood to reason that unless he’d looped behind her, he would have come out on the path ahead. Which meant she should have seen him. It was unlikely that he’d have let her get so far ahead that she wouldn’t have heard him on the trail behind her. And he knew this was where they turned around. He’d never gone farther down the path without waiting for her at the stump.
Deanna tried to tamp down the feeling that something bad had happened. “Arthur, do not do this to me. I am not kidding.” Her hand moved into her jacket pocket, and she touched the edge of her phone, tempted to pull it out and turn on the flashlight app. But if she turned on the light, it would ruin her night vision, and she wasn’t too keen on that either.
As silence continued to stretch out, Deanna came to a stop in front of the stump, and turned to stare apprehensively at the great stretch of woods ahead. They were dense, and Arthur would be able to move through them a lot more quickly than she would. If she went into the forest, there was no guarantee that she’d find him. The smart thing would be to go back the way they’d come, moving slowly and loudly so that he could find her. Unless, of course, he was hurt or trapped. And if he was hurt or trapped, then he’d be able to hear her leaving, and what if he thought she was abandoning him?
Deanna chewed on her lower lip; panic rose until she could taste it, hard and metallic, in the back of her throat. Just as she’d made up her mind to do the stupid thing and plunge into the woods, she heard a branch snap followed by a violent rustle of underbrush. Deanna leapt back instinctively as Arthur burst through the trees and made a beeline toward her. His tail was curled tightly between his legs and he must have waded through a mud puddle; his nose and coat were matted with something dark and sticky.
Body trembling, Arthur pressed himself against her legs and whined. Deanna crouched to run a reassuring hand through his fur, grimacing a little at the mud tacky on her fingers. “It’s okay, baby. You made it back. Good dog,” she soothed as she clipped his leash on.
She had no idea what had frightened him so badly. The occasional coyote wasn’t unusual, and it stood to reason that where there was one there were bound to be more. If that’s what this was about, Deanna didn’t want to stick around to meet them. With Arthur close by her side, she hurried back up the path.
The orange streetlights cast a peculiar glow on the remainder of their walk through the city, and when they got back to their building, the bright white light of the lobby shone through the glass doors. It illuminated Deanna’s hand as she brought her key to the lock. She gasped when she realized that the tacky substance drying on her fingers wasn’t mud at all.
She stared at the dark liquid caked under her fingernails. She’d tried to rub most of it off on her jeans, but hadn’t managed to do more than smear it. Not wanting to look, but knowing she had to, Deanna looked at Arthur. He was pressed tight against her leg, and Deanna saw with a detached sense of horror that his silky fur was coated with dirt and blood.
Chapter Three |
Nathan refilled his glass of beer from the growler.
“I think I know blood when I see it,” Deanna pointed out. “It was definitely blood.”
Beside her on the floor, Nathan leaned his head back against the couch and, behind the black frames of his glasses, rolled his bright blue eyes. “I’m not saying it wasn’t blood. But just, like, blood happens.”
“‘Blood happens.’ You sound like a tampon commercial.”
“Not true.” Nathan snickered over the top of his glass. “They never use the word ‘blood.’”
Deanna choked on a mouthful of wine.
“Anyway,” Nathan continued, “it was probably just a dead animal. Dogs love that stuff.”
“He wasn’t happy, though. He was scared. Something scared him. And Arthur’s brave. He doesn’t scare easily.” Deanna wiped the Pinot Gris from her chin and they both leaned forward to look at Arthur, who was sprawled artlessly on top of his dog bed and snoring loudly. Deanna smothered a giggle with the back of her hand and grabbed the bottle of wine.
“Just don’t confuse fantasy with reality. I think your job is messing you up.”
Deanna snorted. “Wolf’s Run is a just game, Nathan. I haven’t forgotten that.”
“Really? Because you’re talking about mysterious bodies torn up in the woods, and if that doesn’t sound like werewolves…”
Deanna gave Nathan a shove. “Ha, ha, very funny. I’m not like that weirdo who thinks that werewolves actually exist. It’s role-playing. Playing being the key word.”
For the most part, the players of Wolf’s Run were a good crowd—with the exception of one user who seemed to think that he actually was a werewolf. Apparently, he took offense to the game’s depictions of “his species,” considering them inaccurate and insulting. The rants had been going on for months, and the situation would have been laughable, except that in the last few weeks his posts had taken on a more threatening tone. Every time Deanna deleted his posts and blocked his username he simply created another account. The Wolf’s Run team didn’t want to block his IP address because IP addresses could be shared by a large number of people, and doing so might block le
gitimate players from the game. Besides, it was child’s play to circumvent a block by logging in from a third-party app or web service, or just logging in from a different location. Deanna could only shut him down and hope that this time he finally gave up.
“Well, then just accept that Arthur found a bunny rabbit or something and decided it would be a good idea to roll around in its mangled corpse.”
Deanna shook her head. “You didn’t see him. It was a lot of blood.” It had taken two desperately unpleasant baths and an entire bottle of shampoo to get Arthur clean. Deanna had had to scrub her bathtub three times before she’d felt comfortable using it again.
Nathan grabbed her hand with his long, thin fingers. “Listen, you’re my best friend, and I love you, and I’m sure that it was really terrifying, but I’m also one hundred percent sure that you are blowing this way out of proportion. No more fantasy werewolf role playing nonsense for you.”
“Until my shift starts in…” Deanna tapped the screen of her phone. “Ten hours.”
“Until then,” Nathan agreed and clinked their glasses. “Now, tell me more about your hot neighbor.”
Deanna buried her head in her hands and groaned. “It’s awful. She’s gorgeous. And I can’t think around her. Or speak. I turn into a spluttering sixth grader with her first crush.”
“That’s disgusting and adorable. Tell me more. What’s her name?”
Deanna’s reply was stopped by the sound of her buzzer. Putting her wine glass on the floor, she pushed herself to her feet. “Pizza’s here. Pizza first, and then I will tell you everything.”
“Deal.” Nathan went to the kitchen for plates as Deanna stepped into a pair of flats and grabbed her wallet. The pizza place they liked best didn’t have a website, so she’d ordered old school—phone in an order and pay at delivery. Arthur made a quiet woof as she opened the door, and opened one bleary eye, but made no move to come with her. Deanna made a face at him and closed the door.