They were walking home from Darby’s Public House after trivia night, and their teammates had headed in other directions or bummed a ride from Nathan.
“Since that was about the only answer I got right all night, I wouldn’t be too impressed,” Jamie demurred.
“No one else knew it, though.” Deanna shook her head, exhilarated at their win. The night was chilly but clear, and although neither of them had gloves on they both walked with their hands at their sides, when it would have been easiest to tuck their cold fingers into their pockets. The narrow sidewalk meant that they could either walk one behind the other or, as they were, close enough that with every other step Deanna felt Jamie’s arm graze her own.
It was imagined, Deanna knew, but she could almost swear she felt heat at every accidental touch. And the touches weren’t accidental. Not entirely. She hadn’t been sure if her attraction to Jamie had been reciprocated; tonight had definitely confirmed that it was.
They’d spent the night beside each other, squished thigh to thigh in a small booth with five of Deanna’s friends, and even when Max ducked out as soon as the quiz had ended, leaving Jamie with room to move over, she hadn’t moved away.
She’d stayed, pressed long and lean against Deanna’s side, as they’d enjoyed the free pitcher their win had earned them. Hyper-aware of the press of Jamie’s leg against her own, the light fabric of her dress and Jamie’s jeans all that was between them, Deanna had found it difficult to follow the conversation. Once Jamie had leaned back, casually, and there’d been the light touch of an arm against Deanna’s back. Nathan had met her eyes across the table and quickly, secretly grinned before asking their teammate Sadie how her house-hunting was going.
Deanna had let the conversation wash over her then, nursing the rest of her beer, and, after several moments of agonizing internal debate, had slowly leaned back. She’d given Jamie plenty of time to move her arm, if she’d wanted to, but apparently Jamie hadn’t. It was as though Deanna was reliving her first childhood crush all over again as she felt Jamie’s arm warm and steady against her shoulders.
Now, as they walked home in the dark, Deanna decided it was time to stop beating around the bush. The next time Jamie’s hand brushed her own she caught the other woman’s fingers. Jamie didn’t hesitate. Her fingers wrapped firmly around Deanna’s own, and Deanna was sure that without that solid grip she’d have floated straight up into the night sky.
She ducked her head to hide her grin, and caught Jamie’s glance out of the corner of her eye. Deanna should say something, probably. But it was so unbearably sweet to just walk hand in hand that she couldn’t bring herself to speak.
They walked the final blocks to their building in silence, and it was the furthest thing from uncomfortable as Jamie’s thumb slid casually over Deanna’s wrist. The light touch sent Deanna’s senses skittering until it felt as if all the nerves in her body had gathered in that one spot.
When they reached their building, and Jamie pulled her hand away to reach for her keys, Deanna had to take a deep breath of the cool air to keep from pushing Jamie against the glass doors and taking a fistful of Jamie’s short hair so she could drag Jamie’s mouth down to hers. As though Jamie could read Deanna’s mind, she cast a glance back over her shoulder. A gleam of heat in her eyes had every muscle in Deanna’s body pulled tight. Deanna tried to maintain a neutral expression, but the knowing tilt in Jamie’s chin nearly undid her.
Passing through the lobby, Deanna caught her reflection in the mirrored panel of the wall: her cheeks were flushed, and the brightness in her green eyes made her look almost fevered. Perhaps she wasn’t doing a good job of hiding anything. Jamie caught Deanna’s hand in her own as they went up the stairs, and Deanna didn’t think she was imagining the way Jamie’s grip had tightened now that they were inside.
Once they reached Deanna’s floor, Jamie stopped. Deanna wondered if it would be too soon to invite Jamie back to her apartment—she didn’t want to rush things—and hesitated at the door.
“I’m glad you invited me out tonight,” Jamie said. “It was really fun.”
“Yeah.” Deanna hoped that Jamie wouldn’t take the relief in her voice the wrong way. She wanted this to be more than one night. “I’m glad you came.” Since she hadn’t spoken for most of the walk back, her voice was soft and her words caught in her throat as Jamie closed the distance between them.
Jamie’s hand was light on Deanna’s waist as she drew Deanna closer, and Deanna’s eyes dropped to Jamie’s mouth as her own mouth parted. She saw a quick flash of white teeth when Jamie grinned, and then Jamie’s face dipped close, and their lips brushed. Deanna melted into the kiss, swaying forward when Jamie’s grip grew firmer and she deepened the kiss until Deanna’s entire focus was on the hot, wet heat of Jamie’s mouth. Deanna’s eyes closed, and she made a helpless noise of pleasure when Jamie’s tongue slid against hers.
Jamie sucked in a breath and then stepped back, giving Deanna’s hand one last squeeze. Deanna’s lips felt flayed, naked, now that Jamie’s were no longer pressed against them.
“Have a good night.” Jamie’s voice was husky, and color lit her cheeks as she turned and made her way up the stairs. Deanna stayed where she was until she heard the door close on the eighth floor landing, and then, lifting a hand to touch her fingertips to her still-parted mouth, she let herself onto her floor.
Chapter Five |
Her date—an actual, real, official date—with Jamie wasn’t for another half an hour. So naturally Deanna had been ready to go for fifteen minutes already. She’d had the day off, and used the excuse to spend a couple of hours at the mall before meeting her friend Max for a quick lunch. She’d been worried about running into Jamie with her handful of bags and in her errand-running jeans, but she’d made it back to her apartment unseen.
Deanna paced the length of her main room a handful of times before she gave up, moved to the couch and dragged her laptop onto the coffee table. She opened Twitter to see what her friends were up to. She was relatively new to the website, having signed up at her employer’s request when she’d taken the job with Wolf’s Run and being given the head moderator handle @denmother, which Deanna found both amusing and appropriate. She’d created her own private account as well, and used that to keep track of her friends and her favorite food trucks. The Wolf’s Run account was open on her screen, though, so Deanna gave herself a few minutes to scroll through her notifications.
The game was popular enough that she had a hundred or so @ mentions every day. Most of them were friendly despite the occasional griping over an inappropriate post Deanna had to take down. They didn’t allow nudity, personal information, threats or hate speech on any of the public message boards, and there were always those who ignored the rules or thought that trolling other members was a classy and entertaining way to spend their time.
Hey @denmother When will WR have a block feature?
Its called #freespeech @denmother DEAL WITH IT
@wolfsrunofficial @denmother loving the new howl system awooooo
Thanks for acting quickly on the post I flagged! @denmother
@denmother Protecting the wolves from trolls one dickwad at a time.
If you keep silencing me @denmother you’ll see exactly what I’m capable of. I know what to do with bitches like you. crywolf
Deanna flipped the bird at her computer screen, ignoring the way her heart had stuttered in her chest. Crywolf was one of the least savory aspects of her job. She wasn’t sure that he was a “he,” though it stood to reason—but he’d begun posting a few months ago, harassing the game players with crudely worded rants about werewolves and the humans who pretended to be them. He seemed to be suffering under the delusion that he actually was one. Every time she shut him down he created another account, never using the same username twice, but always ending each post with his signature: crywolf.
He’d kept his anger to Wolf’s Run forums unt
il now, and seeing crywolf on Twitter was enough to give Deanna a jolt. It wasn’t difficult to find any of the game’s staff on Twitter—their tweets were featured on the front page of Wolf’s Run. That he’d moved to another medium was not concerning, exactly, but definitely unpleasant.
Deanna leaned back, pursing her lips as she stared at her computer screen. If crywolf was posting on Twitter, he’d probably shown up again on Wolf’s Run as well. Her fingers itched as she fought the urge to logon and see what he’d said. It was her day off, though, which meant that, for tonight at least, he was someone else’s problem. And she was definitely not going to give him the satisfaction of making her care enough to look at whatever vile thing he was saying this time.
With a determined huff, Deanna closed the lid of her laptop. She probably should report the tweet and the Twitter profile crywolf had created, but she didn’t want to spend the few minutes before Jamie arrived focused on him. He wasn’t worth that much of her time or attention.
Then again, she considered, if she didn’t report him right away she might come back to a deluge of further abuse. Deanna reached again for her laptop, but stopped when Arthur leaped off the couch beside her and made a beeline to the front door with his tail wagging. Deanna glanced at her phone. It was already seven o’clock, and seconds later there was a knock at her door.
“Coming!” she called, and tucked her phone into her purse.
“Hey.” Deanna beamed, swinging the door open so that Jamie could step inside.
“Hi.” Jamie smiled before she ducked down to rub Arthur’s belly—he had instantly dropped to the floor and rolled over for her. Deanna was glad for the momentary distraction. In a pair of slim, olive-colored jeans with a matching tie tucked into a navy blue vest, and a blue-striped dress shirt under a soft-looking gray blazer, Jamie looked so good that Deanna needed a moment to compose herself. The navy and olive made Jamie’s skin, peeking out at the collar of her shirt and her wrists, glow a warm, touchable gold. Deanna really, really wanted to touch. The problem was that if she started touching she was pretty sure they wouldn’t make it to dinner.
Jamie rose and, as though she had read Deanna’s mind, caught Deanna’s wrist and drew her close so she could press her lips to Deanna’s in a barely-there kiss.
“Ready to go?”
Deanna was ready to stay in. They should stay in. They could stay in, and Deanna could order pizza and then they wouldn’t have to leave, ever. She had plenty of food in her fridge so, really, they wouldn’t have to leave for at least three days. “Yeah, sure,” she agreed.
Jamie gave Arthur one last pat, and Deanna picked up her keys and they left.
The restaurant Jamie had picked was Ethiopian, and Deanna had never had Ethiopian food. It was in a house, with all the rooms converted into dining areas, so when they were shown to their table on the second floor, tucked into a small corner by the window of what Deanna was pretty sure used to be part of the bedroom, she couldn’t help but be utterly charmed.
Deanna was further charmed when Jamie suggested they opt for a bottle of wine. From the few encounters they’d had, Deanna knew Jamie preferred beer. Appreciating the gesture, Deanna chose a pleasant bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.
Jamie gave an appreciative hum as she tasted the wine, and in doing so gave Deanna all sorts of R-rated thoughts about what she could do that Jamie would appreciate. Trying to stay on course, Deanna turned her attention to the menu, hoping to find something she’d recognize. She wasn’t adventurous with her restaurant choices, generally preferring to stick to her tried and true favorites, but she’d been so pleased at the idea of a real date with Jamie that she’d accepted the offer of Ethiopian without question.
“A lot of these appetizers are good,” Jamie said, interrupting Deanna’s perusal of her options. “Back with my pa—” she broke off, face reddening as Deanna raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Back with my, er, parents,” Jamie continued, rubbing a hand over her mouth, “we’d share a few of them. Sound good?”
“Sure.” Deanna wasn’t sure what had thrown Jamie, but didn’t plan to ask. Jamie’s family was her own business, and Deanna certainly wasn’t one to pry. Well, not on a first date, anyway. Now a second date, on the other hand…
Not that Deanna was thinking so far into the future. That would be ridiculous. Really, she’d barely met Jamie. Hardly knew a thing about her. They were practically strangers. It was only that Deanna’s crush seemed to be growing exponentially with every minor interaction. She’d gotten a text from Jamie yesterday about dinner and had spent the next hour of work grinning blissfully at her computer screen, barely registering what she was doing as she’d cleared her queue.
It helped to know that Jamie seemed to be as infatuated as Deanna was. Well, maybe not as infatuated, but close. The kiss they’d shared after the walk home from trivia night was scorching enough that Deanna didn’t doubt Jamie’s attraction to her.
The one thing she didn’t want to do, though, was U-Haul it. She’d seen enough of her friends embark on that disastrous venture that she was properly in camp take-it-slow. And not too slowly, she amended, watching Jamie rattle off an order to their server without consulting the menu. Was everyone this sexy when they ordered confidently, or was Deanna just wearing Jamie goggles?
“Do you have a big family, then?” Deanna asked once the server had vanished, having entirely forgotten her determination not to pry.
“No, it’s really just me.” Jamie gave an elegant shrug. “My parents are back east, and I never had any siblings.”
“Oh.” Deanna frowned, not a little confused. “I just thought—I mean, you ordered like eight different things and there’s only the two of us…”
Jamie looked blankly at Deanna before something clicked into place and she coughed. “Uh, yeah. No, sorry. I have a big… extended family.” She gave a sheepish shrug. “I’m used to ordering for all of us.”
Deanna laughed. “It’s no problem. I’m more than happy to eat leftovers for lunch. And I know what it’s like to have a large extended family.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” Deanna launched into a story of her last family reunion, where her Aunt Leita had made an entire bowl of sangria vanish and then informed a teenaged Deanna and her brother about the various illegal substances they ought to try, before Deanna’s horrified father had put a stop to what Deanna had found to be a very educational speech.
Jamie retaliated with a story about her Uncle Trevor who’d instigated a board game night—what she and her cousins back home had taken to referring to as “bored game” night—and that they actually drew straws to determine which of them would have to go every month.
Deanna was already on her third plate of food before she realized how much she was enjoying her meal. To be fair, it was hard not to like fried cheese. She’d been so distracted watching Jamie talk that she’d hardly noticed Jamie filling her plate for her. While Deanna was a wildly expressive talker, all hands and animated features, Jamie was quieter and more composed in her storytelling. So Deanna tracked every gentle movement and small smile and was delighted when, after Deanna made a rather unfortunate comparison between their landlord and a gopher, Jamie threw back her head and laughed until there were tears in her eyes.
If Jamie did bring up a U-Haul, Deanna was so in. Not that she’d need an actual U-Haul to move up one floor, anyway.
At the end of the meal, Deanna had been more than ready to find out what an Ethiopian dessert would taste like; but Jamie surprised her with the offer to go back to her place for something sweet.
She’d actually said that, “something sweet,” and while Deanna had been ninety-eight percent sure that Jamie was being perfectly earnest, there was the slightest curve to her wide mouth that made Deanna take a large gulp of water before she could answer with any composure.
As they headed back toward the apartment building, Deanna pulled out her phone
to check the time and couldn’t muffle the groan of annoyance as she saw the ridiculous number of notifications she had.
“What’s wrong?” Jamie laid a hand on the small of Deanna’s back, concern tugging at her features.
“It’s nothing—just a work thing.” When Jamie raised an expectant eyebrow, Deanna sighed and elaborated, not wanting to allow crywolf into her date night. But if she brushed it off, Jamie might bring it up again later. Better to just get it over with. “You might have heard that guys on the Internet can be assholes? Wolf’s Run has its own particular jackoff called crywolf, who seems to have nothing better to do than spam our members, message boards, and now my official Twitter account with bizarrely worded threats.” Deanna brought up the most recent one and read: “‘My big teeth are waiting @denmother. Do you taste as sweet as you look?’” The words left a bad taste in Deanna’s mouth.
“Shit.” Jamie’s arm curled around Deanna’s waist, drawing her in until Jamie’s hip pressed against her side. Deanna considered this new development before sending an ironic mental thank you to crywolf. She could dig this whole “protective girlfriend” thing. Not that Jamie was her girlfriend. Yet.
“Doesn’t that worry you?” Jamie asked.
Deanna shrugged against Jamie’s side. “It’s the Internet. People leave their manners in the real world.”
“Still.” Deanna could hear the frown in Jamie’s voice.
“It’s okay, honestly. I’ve had worse. It just comes with the territory. I’m sure you get some weird crap doing fieldwork for your research.”
“Nothing like that.” Jamie shook her head but let the matter drop as they reached their building.
Wanting to take Arthur for a short walk, Deanna begged to postpone their date for fifteen minutes. Jamie readily agreed, and on the seventh floor Deanna gave in to the urge she’d been fighting all night and drew Jamie down for a kiss that echoed their first—slick and wet and with the slightest hint of tongue. When she pulled back, Jamie’s skin was flushed, and Deanna couldn’t help but nip lightly at Jamie’s swollen bottom lip. Jamie’s indrawn breath made things low in Deanna’s body clench, and with a breathless laugh she darted toward her door, hoping that Arthur would make their trip outside a quick one.
The Better To Kiss You With Page 4
