Species Interaction

by Cheyenne Meadows

  He still wore condoms, I shied away from tempting fate, and we'd never brought up the subject of marriage.

  My gaze landed on his comfortable blue shirt. "Why didn't I get to wear that instead of this Victorian chastity belt called a nightgown?" I plucked at the snug neckline.

  He scooted over to nuzzle my cheek. "Because. Anything less and I wouldn't be able to take my eyes off you."

  I arched an eyebrow at him, a small grin tugging at my lips. "I'm a temptation?"

  "Big time." His lips settled over mine.

  "Mom! We're hungry!"

  With a regretful sigh, I pulled back. "Duty calls."

  Appearing unbothered by the interruption, Meat climbed out of bed, stretched, and tossed my covers back. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty."

  "Only if you put me in something more comfortable." Shifters had a marvelous magical ability to either create or remove clothing with merely a thought. Meat, carrying liger genetics, had this particular skill down to a "T".

  By the time I looked down, I wore basic fleece pajamas, mint green and fluffy. "Much better, thank you."

  "I'll be taking them off later. Piece by piece." His eyes twinkled with sensual promise.

  "Oh my." My heart picked up speed as my stomach did a slow, delicious flip.

  "Mom!"

  "Later. Much later." With a final peck to my cheek, he grabbed my hand and dragged me downstairs.

  Chapter 3

  I sneezed then blew my nose loudly in the tissue. Two days ago, I'd chatted with Meat's parents. After they left, we had spent glorious hours in my bed, reacquainting our naked parts and discovering his stamina could outlast that damned pink bunny.

  Today, I felt like crap.

  Meat glanced over at me as he pulled his Jaguar into a parking space in front of our destination. "I'm sorry. If I hadn't already promised to cover Jeff's shift at work…"

  I waved at him and coughed a couple of times before answering. "It's okay. I understand. Besides, I told you I'd be perfectly fine by myself."

  His brows tightened as his mouth turned down. "Not with you being this sick."

  Yeah, I could see his point, but never would I admit such a thing. Honestly, I didn't argue when he suggested I stay with someone while he had to work, too relieved and tired to declare my independence over such a moot issue. The tricky part of the equation was who that someone would be.

  It sucked to be human and have the flu. As bad as I felt, I certainly didn't want to pass it on to the boys or Jessica. Thus, staying at home didn't pan out as a good option. For the very same reason, with the addition of having a small baby in the house, I couldn't stay with Dad or Andrew, which wouldn't be fair or worth the risk to little Spencer. That left the one person who wouldn't run in fear of my germs, and as a bonus, he lived alone.

  I opened the door, automatically pulling my heavy robe around me to ward off the brisk late January chill. "Brrrr."

  Meat came up beside me, large trash bag in hand. "Let's get you inside."

  I nodded, heading to the front door. Before I could push the doorbell, Meat grabbed my hand. "You know he's not going to answer the door at this hour. And, if you wake him, he'll be as cranky as a groundhog with a thorn in his butt." Interesting analogy. Never thought of him as a groundhog.

  "So what's the plan, Sherlock?"

  No sooner had the words left my mouth than we appeared in the living room.

  Blinking, I looked around, found the nearby oversized couch, and immediately plopped down when a woozy sensation hit out of the blue. Poofing must be contraindicated when one's head pounded with stored up crud. I bracketed my temples with my hands, trying to even out the pressure.

  Meat dropped the large trash bag at my feet, untied the strings, and began pulling items of necessity out.

  Quiet footsteps announced our host's arrival. "What the hell?"

  I glanced up to find a familiar scowl. Oh, goody. Mr Groundhog was awake. Black denim jeans covered his lower body as his chest remained bare. A lethal appearing sword hung from his right hand. He looked like he just climbed out of bed, donned the bare necessities in clothing, and prepared to face an evil knight attempting to storm his castle.

  I wondered if he could whap me upside the head with his choice of weapon, put me to sleep, and when I woke up feel like I could actually survive this crap.

  "She's sick," Meat explained.

  I waved at Cannibal in the midst of another coughing fit.

  Cannibal fell under the category of speak softly and carry a big stick. He possessed more than human genetics, but no one knew which mixture or variety. No information on his background existed that an average person could get their hands on, and no one had enough gumption to ask him to his face how he came by his name. His attitude and serious crankiness intimidated most people, and I had a feeling he liked it that way. I seemed to be the single exception. We bonded over a bizarre night of confessions and torn g-strings, which ended with my face planted in his lap and my panties soaked. Since then, I became his sole gopher and intermediary between him and the day to day runnings of PPD.

  He shook his head as he raked his gaze over me.

  My braid sprouted hairs going every which way. The robe hung loosely off my shoulders, revealing my bright pink over-sized pajamas. Pink socks and my bunny slippers finished off my outfit. So I wasn't ready for the red carpet. I had the flu, sue me.

  "Yeah, I can see that," the Enforcer grumbled. "So why is she here?"

  Meat's expression turned to one of concern. He reached out to touch my forehead with his hand. "She's sick."

  Cannibal rested his sword on a nearby table. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at Meat. "Again, Einstein. I got that. But why is she here?"

  I swallowed and croaked. "I've got the flu and am contagious. To humans, that is."

  "She can't stay at home and infect her boys. Her father has a small child. That leaves you and me." Meat dug through the bag, pulling out a bottle of medication.

  Cannibal's eyebrow arched. "Why you and me instead of just you?"

  Meat shot him an impatient glare. "Because I have to work. She's sick and shouldn't be left alone, especially for ten or twelve hours at a time, not with her high fever."

  "How do you know this isn't contagious to me and won't cause me to die a prolonged agonizing death?"

  I shrugged. "Tony, my boss, recommended you. Told me you were indestructible."

  "Like that means a whole lot in a pile of shit." An awkward moment of silence passed before Cannibal sighed. "Just great. And, how long will this flu last and I'm forced to endure a roommate?"

  "A week." I managed to squeak before hacking once again.

  "A week? Oh, hell, no."

  A medicine cup full of medication appeared before my face. "Drink. It's time for your cough syrup. I'll get your ibuprofen next," Meat soothed. "Remember, every four hours."

  I nodded, taking the cup and downing the nasty tasting stuff in one gulp. "Yuk."

  Meat's mouth twitched. "It's not supposed to taste good or it won't work." I stuck my tongue out at him.

  Cannibal gestured to the large trash sack. "What's in the bag?"

  "Necessities." Meat handed over my pills, along with a bottle of orange juice. Then, he started unpacking, item by item. "Tissues with lotion for her nose. Cough syrup. Throat lozenges." He tugged out a couple more items. "More pajamas. Feminine hygiene stuff. Midol."

  "What in…" Cannibal's gaze fell to the small bag Meat placed on the floor. "Oh, I so don't think so." His arms crossed over his chest defensively. His glare must send the bad guys running for their very lives. Unfortunately, I was too exhausted to do more than slump.

  I scowled at him. "I can't help it. It's not like I wanted to have the flu and my period at the same time. If only men would start having periods for a change."

  My eyes began to water. I felt absolutely awful. I couldn't even stay in my own home, in my own bed. Instead, I was shuffled off to Meat's house, only to be moved on to Cannibal'
s couch. My belly hurt, my head pounded, my nose ran, I felt a bit woozy, and I knew delirium wasn't far away. All I wanted to do was sleep, and the sword that could knock me into nap time for a few hours lay way across the room.

  "Sweetheart." Meat brushed a stray tear from my cheek.

  "Oh, damn." Cannibal threw his hands up in the air.

  "I'll just go to a hotel." I stood proudly, my box of tissues in hand. "That way I won't bother anyone or pass my germs around."

  Meat looked over at Cannibal, and I swear they shared some unspoken words.

  Cannibal sighed dramatically. "No. You can stay here, until you're better, that is." He puffed out a quick breath. "This isn't a motel or a homeless shelter, though. So don't get any ideas." His tone invited no argument.

  Like I would want to move in permanently? It was all I could do not to salute him.

  Meat nodded, cupped my heated cheek, and tugged me back down to sit on the couch. "I bet he would let you stay in the guest bedroom if you wanted."

  I shook my head at them both. "Bed is for well people. Couch is for sickies."

  A ghost of a smile hovered over Cannibal's lips. "Couch it is, then."

  My body tried to evacuate a lung the hard way, leaving me weak, sore, and a bit breathless. For a split second, something flashed in the Enforcer's eyes, something akin to sympathy.

  A quiet beeping sounded. Meat glanced at his watch, then gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "I've got to get going."

  I bit my lip in nervousness.

  "I promise. I'll be back to pick you up as soon as I can."

  "I said she could stay here, and she will," Cannibal declared.

  Meat smiled at him then headed toward the door. "I'll be back later to relieve you of your nursing duties."

  Cannibal flipped him off, muttered under his breath, something that I knew had to be anatomically impossible.

  I watched Meat leave and then turned my attention to my temporary roommate. "I'm sorry."

  He waved his hand dismissively and headed to the kitchen. "Juice or soda?"

  Cannibal was going to take care of me? Shock washed over me at his offer. Whoever heard of a cannibal caring for a sick woman? Maybe cannibals didn't eat ill people, lest they catch whatever their victim had. I could imagine the conversations over the stew pot at camp.

  "I hope you didn't eat any of that Carl."

  "Why not?"

  "Didn't you read the red stamp on the package that said 'died of dehydration from rectal seepage and impotence'?"

  My focus returned to the present with the sound of a throat clearing. "Can I have fruit and ice cream mixed into a smoothie?"

  He glared at me sternly enough I wished my words back. Caring for and catering to seemed to be entirely different things

  "I… ummm…"

  He shook his head. "I guess I should actually use the stupid blender as it came with the kitchen."

  Smiling, I stood, toddling slowly in his wake. "I'll help."

  He frowned. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. You tend to blow up things if I recall."

  My face heated, but I blamed it on the high fever. "Yeah, but you said it was entertainment."

  "Yeah, there is that."

  Between the two of us, we managed to toss some ice cream and fruit together, use the blender without difficulty, and make two smoothies ready to devour. I sat the container in the sink for cleaning while Cannibal played guinea pig.

  One bite and his eyes lit up. "This is actually pretty good."

  I grabbed my glass and took a sip. "I'm glad you like." A question popped in my mind. "Tastes better than toe soup?"

  The corners of his mouth kicked up. "Depends upon whose toes you use."

  Taking a large slurp, I tossed around my response options. None remotely fit. I settled for a blank stare. When in doubt, play dumb. That was my motto.

  He chugged the rest of the drink before placing the now empty glass in the sink. "You better not be contagious."

  I blinked up at him. "I believe centuries ago, it was discovered that only women had periods. Although, I understand certain Native American tribes believed women to be bad luck during that particular time and sent them to live in a separate teepee for the duration." I gave a quick wave of my hand while taking another swallow. "I can safely say, after much research, women are no longer believed to be bad luck in modern times, and I'm not contagious."

  He snorted. "You weren't a part of that study, were you?"

  "Well, no. Why do you ask?" I tilted my head in question, laying my now empty glass in the sink beside his.

  "Why indeed?" He shook his head and turned. "I'm going to bed. Do not wake me unless it's an emergency."

  I trailed him back to the living room, shuffling along. "What do you consider an emergency? Nothing short of fire burning down the house? Maybe the police need to evacuate for a gas leak? What if we are attacked by those winged monkeys from Oz? Does that count?"

  He paused and spun around to peer down at me. "If those monkeys show up, let me know. I'll make sure they take your trash bag of supplies when they carry you off."

  "Hey!" I pouted.

  He chuckled and disappeared down the hall.

  I consoled myself with thoughts of stuffing him with straw as I settled back down on the couch and pulled a throw over my chilled body. Digging out my cell phone, I called Dad to check on the boys. Guilt settled over my shoulders for how they'd been carted off to the ranch when I showed the first symptoms.

  "Hello?" Sasha's voice carried across the line.

  "Hi, Sasha. It's Mommy."

  "Mommy! Grandpa said you sick."

  I smiled. "I've got the flu. Don't worry. I'll be all well in a few days. I just didn't want to give it to you and your brother."

  "Ohhh. Andrew let us ride horses today."

  Parenthood fits Andrew, definitely. The way he spoils my boys and takes care of his and Dad's adopted newborn baby shows how much he truly enjoys children.

  "Did you have fun?"

  "Yes. I want a pony, Mommy."

  "Ask Grandpa, sweetie. There's no room for a pony at our house. But maybe Grandpa has room at his ranch, and he can keep it there for you."

  "Okay. Grandpa!"

  I lifted the phone away from my ear with the loud yell.

  "Mommy?"

  "Hi, Chance."

  "You better?"

  "Getting there. I should be home in a couple of days."

  He paused for a second like thinking of how to word a question. "Meat care for you?"

  "Yes. He's doing a great job, too."

  "We see Meat soon? He play with us?"

  My heart tugged with the affection between my liger boyfriend and my boys. They seemed to genuinely care for one another. "Soon. I promise."

  "I drew picture for him."

  "He'll love that."

  Dad's muffled voice carried over. "Oh, Grandpa says bath time. I don't like bath time."

  A grin covered my face. "Bath time can be fun. Besides, you need to be clean to go to bed."

  "Okay. Bye, Mommy."

  "Bye, Chance."

  He hung up. I clutched the phone to my chest for a moment, missing my boys already and more than thankful that my adopted father stepped in so much to help. Without him and the rest of the family, I didn't know what I'd do.

  Satisfied the children were settled, I yawned big, cuddled into the blanket, and fell asleep.

  By the time I woke up, Meat had arrived to take me back to his place.

  He placed one hand on my forehead and smiled encouragingly. "You look better."

  "I need a shower." I did indeed have more energy than before. Must have been those power smoothies.

  "As soon as we get you home, I'll get you in the shower."

  Cannibal strode over, handing over my bag of supplies. "You work again tomorrow?"

  "Yeah." Meat nodded, snaking an arm around my waist to support me while I stood.

  "Bring her back when you go."

  Both Meat and
I gaped at Cannibal in shock. He only shrugged. "She's not… too bad."

  "Gee. Thanks." I smiled to myself.

  Meat grinned openly. "Got you wrapped around her finger, too?"

  A snort followed. "No way. I would only hate to have to deal with another bumbling idiot if she would expire."

  "He likes me," I whispered loudly.

  "I sleep better knowing that Shyanne is on high alert for the flying monkey invasion," he countered flatly.

  Meat's head swung my direction with an eyebrow arched. I shrugged and blinked.

  Sometimes you have to read between the lines with Cannibal. His words translated into 'I almost like her. She fetches well, and her fingers dipped in melted butter would rank right up there with other delicacies such as lobster tail.'

  Chapter 4

  "You know my other job?" Meat asked, sliding the last bite of cake off his fork with his talented lips.

  Two days after Meat dragged me off to Cannibal's house for nursing duty, I decided I would live, finally felt human once more, and moved back home. Turned out the Enforcer everyone fears wasn't so bad after all. As long as you didn't wake him up, protected him from flying monkeys, and didn't snore from the couch. Back on track, I returned to my normally scheduled life. A life that involved a sexy boyfriend and his convoluted ideas.

  I sat my glass of milk back down and sent him a puzzled look. "Mortician?"

  He snorted. "No." A frown crossed his face to be quickly replaced by something more mischievous. "Undercover. Tracker. PI. Stuff."

  "Oh, that other job. What about it?" I grabbed my dishes and headed for the sink. The boys had a sleepover along with half a dozen other pre-school kids. Bless the mother who volunteered to supervise so many children in her house for an entire night.

  "Well, I've accepted this case and need some help."

  Leaving those dishes in the sink, I returned for his. "What kind of help?" Snagging his plate and glass, I quickly placed those with the other dirty dishes, turning my full attention on him.

  He paused a second, stood, then looked me in the eye. "A female stripper."

  I choked and sputtered. "What? Me?" The words came out as a high squeak, reminding one of a squirrel defending his nuts. "Oh, no. No. No. No."