She let his hands work their magic for a moment before she asked, “So, what were you doing there anyway, Crosby? Any thoughts on what made you go the way you went?”
She had to wonder if instinct had been his guide or if it was something more. Like maybe he’d smelled what she’d smelled. If he had, he hid it well. Neither of them had made mention of it.
He ran a hand over his face, the stubble on his jaw audibly rasping against his hand, his eyes focused on everything and nothing. “Part of it has to do with that fence. I don’t know what it is. I just know there’s something just beyond that fence that’s so familiar. Also, a woman named Marina. You know her?”
Ella struggled to keep her expression passive, but her heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “I think the question is, how do you know her?” Avoid, avoid, avoid. God, this was killing her.
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I don’t know. I just know she’s in that direction and just before I shifted, I saw a blurry image of her in my head. The strangest damn thing, too…”
“What?”
“Hey, do I have a sister?”
She shook her head with a violent shiver as another set of chills assaulted her. Chills she wasn’t sure could be attributed to being exposed to the below-freezing temperatures or Marina’s name on Crosby’s lips.
“No. No sisters. No brothers, and your parents are in a relocated pack in Boca because your mom hates the cold. She wanted to come, by the way, but the pack asked her to wait a bit before overwhelming you. Why do you ask?”
Crosby shook his head, the dark strands of his hair still mussed. “That’s the strange thing. I felt like this Marina was my sister. In fact, I was sure of it.”
Huh. “Well, she’s not your sister. So this vision you had of her led you to the fence?”
His face went dark even as his hands continued to massage her calves. “I smelled her. I’m positive. I don’t know why I can associate her scent with her face, but I smelled her, and she’s somewhere over that fence.”
Among other things. Ella closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to dwell on the scent that kept cropping back up in her nostrils to taunt her with its familiarity. “So that’s all you remember is her name and what she looks like?”
“That’s it. Well, almost it. When I saw you in your wolf whatever—”
“Werewolf form.”
“Yeah, that. Anyway, I know I’ve seen you before—in your werewolf form, that is.”
Ella’s eyes darted to the edge of the blanket. “It’s not unlikely. We do live in the same town—we definitely run in the same circles, no pun intended. I’m sure we’ve crossed paths at some point.”
His fingers stopped moving over her now-toasty skin. “Then why don’t I remember anyone else but you?”
“Because I have a fabulous coat that I maintain to within an inch of its life? It’s hard to forget fabulous, even with amnesia,” she countered, keeping her words and her smile light.
“Nope. That’s not it.”
“Are you saying my fur isn’t fabulous?”
“I’m saying nothing of the sort. In fact, I’m going to keep saying nothing of the sort in my lavender and mint-green frilly bed. I think I need some of that alone time you’ve been muttering about under your breath. Us werewolves have serious hearing, too, huh? So don’t think I haven’t heard all that complaining on the phone you’ve been doing to your friend Lola, about not being able to get away for girls’ night because you’re too busy babysitting the feeb.”
Ella’s cheeks grew hot with shame and guilt, but she shrugged it off. “If it’s any consolation, Lola said you could join us. This week’s theme is Tiaras and Tequila. You can borrow one of my tiaras…”
Crosby lifted his long length from the couch and gave her a distracted chuckle. “I’d rather perform my own Brazilian wax.” Bracing his arms on the back of the couch, he loomed over her, his handsome face shadowed by whatever he needed to work out. “But I’m not done with you just yet. I might have amnesia, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t change what I want. And I want you—again and again. So you soak that up while I go do some serious introspection. Night, Ella-Belle.”
She bit back her surprise at his use of the pet name he’d given her. Everyone called her Ella-Belle, but that it had slipped from his lips without prompting, coupled with the other visions he’d had, had to mean he was working this amnesia thing out.
Crosby pressed his lips to hers, letting his tongue slip into her mouth to take a quick taste before he was gone.
Leaving Ella alone with some of her own quiet introspection and wondering exactly what Max had meant earlier when he’d said she had to trust him.
Screw the sound of your own misgivings in your head.
She voted tequila.
* * * *
“O-em-gee!” her best friend, Lola Bradshaw, squealed when she opened the door to her townhouse with a burst of enthusiasm. “It’s my long-lost BFF who’s shacked up with her brick-shithouse, hot, almost ex-hubby because she’s a masochistic nutjob. Yay!”
She reached for Ella, pulling her into a tight hug before promptly handing her two fingers of tequila and leading her into a shiny kitchen full of chrome and glass.
The scent of Lola’s perfume, light and musky, soothed Ella. She followed behind her friend, envying her petite frame and cute jeans.
Ella slid onto one of the red vinyl barstools, plunking her drink down and watching the amber liquid slosh against the sides of the glass. She planted her cheek on the cool countertop and inhaled the scent of silence in all its bliss.
Crosby was at his therapy session and Morton had offered to pick him up and take him to dinner, leaving her free to have girls’ night in peace.
Lola laid her cheek on the counter, too, her green eyes taking in Ella with an intense gaze. “So who needs a drink, Princess?”
Ella rubbed at her eye with her thumb. “I need more than a drink. How many bottles of tequila does it take to fill a pool?”
“More than I can sleep with Gary from the Booze Bin for?”
“Shoot. I really need to get snockered.”
Lola’s eyes narrowed, her pink-glossed lips pursed against the counter, making them look like fish lips. “You didn’t.”
“Oh yes. Yes, I did. Well, I sort of did.”
“What have I told you about keeping your cootchie-la-la to yourself, Ella?”
She groaned. “It had nothing to do with my hoo-hah. Okay, it had something to do with it. But we only kissed. He’s just so irresistible, Lola.” And sweet and fun and hot. And hot. And omigodhot.
Lola’s eyes narrowed to slits in her head. “I knew this would happen.”
Ella slapped her palm on the counter in a weak defense. “Well, thank God for you and Morton, Madame Lola. Hey. Idea. Maybe you and Morton could open a fortune-telling booth together. So I’ll always know what my future holds. I’ll expect discount coupons, of course.”
Lola pushed a strand of Ella’s windblown hair from her eyes. “You’re an epic mess, my friend, but I’m here to tell you, I have no more double-chocolate coconut-almond ice cream left. You ate your weight in it last go ’round with Crosby.”
“So what you’re saying is, you won’t provide the favors for my pity party?”
Lola nodded her fiery-red head and grinned her beautiful smile. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You didn’t have to do this, Ella. You could have walked away. The pack council and Max did give you a choice, but you were hell bent on getting a divorce. Yay, you.”
“I just wanted to move forward in a healthy fashion.” She closed her eyes and gulped, warding off the ugly image of the old flannel shirt rolled at her wrists. She hadn’t even dressed up for girls’ night. Who was she?
Lola nudged her arm, the shiny spikes of her black leather wristband gleaming under the kitchen lights. “Oh honey. You can’t move forward until you finish sweeping your past under a rug.”
“I did not do that.”
“Yes. Yes, you did. You took a sabbatical from work, hid at your house and refused to answer calls from Crosby.”
“Because he kept showing up at the hospital and those calls got me nowhere. He wouldn’t explain what I saw that night and I can’t exist in a marriage without trust.”
“No, you’re right. He didn’t offer any explanations, and that’s shitty-bad on his part. Regardless, you’re not done with him, Ella. Even if consciously you think you want to be. Because if you were done, you’d have found a way around nursing Crosby back to health in order to get your chains that bind broken, and you never would have kissed him again. I don’t care how irresistible he is. You’re not the kind of woman who does things just to appease her lady bits. You’re not even close to one-night-stand material. That’s me. You are, however, in mad love with Crosby. Always have been, probably always will be. You did this because you couldn’t stand the fact that he needed help. It wasn’t so much about the pack granting you a divorce as it was about making sure Crosby was okay. So own that shiz, would you?”
The whiny, petty, overstimulated emotionally and physically half of her offered the broken-record defense. “I can’t trust him,” she said on a huff, blowing her hair out of her face.
Lola’s head swished on the countertop, her red hair a pretty contrast to the black granite. “Uh-uh-uh. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times. I’m not convinced of that, friend. It’s just never added up for me. I know what the evidence says. I just think there’s more to it than meets the eye. Like there’s something we missed while I handed you gobs of tissues and helped plot his unmerciful death. Now, you did this to yourself. You know how to say no, and I’m sure Crosby would have backed off had you said that magic word. You didn’t because, deep down, you know something’s not right about his alleged cheating. So can the bullshit and drink. Drink a lot while freedom is yours for the taking and he’s off finding himself at group therapy and dinner.”
“You’re a traitor.”
“I’m a realist,” Lola said on a chuckle.
“I have the name of the woman I caught him with that night.” Take that, traitor.
“Bully for you.”
“Don’t you want to know what it is?”
Lola’s pierced eyebrow rose. “Not even a little.”
“What the hell kind of friend are you?”
“The kind who wants off the Tilt-A-Whirl that has become your life.”
“She’s gorgeous. Even in broad daylight,” Ella pouted.
“Bet she has big, perky lady lumps.”
Ella sighed in defeat. “The biggest, and they’re real. I can’t smell any silicone on her. Not a scrap.”
“The bitch.”
“That’s more like it.”
“So I know you’re dying to tell me,” Lola prompted.
“Tell you what?”
“Her name.”
No, she wasn’t. “It’s Marina. She’s human.”
“Quaint.”
So quaint it hurts. “She’s like twenty.”
“How predictable,” Lola drawled. “Aren’t all ‘other’ women no older than twenty?”
“Funny.”
“True.”
Probably so. “I met her at the law firm.”
“Big jugs and smart. You should just lie down and die now.”
Ella made a face, wrinkling her nose. “Shut up. She was there as a client, not another lawyer.”
Lola cocked her eyebrow again. “Whores need representation?”
“I never called her a whore.” Did.
“The hell you didn’t.”
Ella’s shoulders slumped. “Okay. I called her a whore.”
“Barbie Whore,” Lola reminded.
“Right. Well, she is blonde.” More weakly offered defenses.
“And smart with big, big jugs.”
“I think I liked her.”
“I didn’t know you swung that way.”
“No. I mean, she’s really genuinely nice.” The Barbie whore.
“A nice whore. There’s one in every pimp’s stable. Whoda thunk?” was Lola’s dry response.
“She asked about Crosby.”
“Did she want to know what size man-panties to buy him? You know, ex-partner to new partner?”
In Ella’s estimation, that probably would have been easier to explain. “She wanted to know where he was.”
“Did you tell her that he has amnesia and he doesn’t even know where he is?”
“I told her I’d pass the message on if I saw him.”
Lola winked a long, black false eyelash at her. “You’re such a giver.”
Ella’s eyes rolled upward. “She thought I was his assistant. That must be the line Crosby fed her about me that night.”
“Good thing she has big jugs. Her smart just blew up.”
“Crosby remembered something last night.”
“Please tell me he remembered if Glen from The Walking Dead is still alive.”
“He remembered Marina.”
Lola made a fist and dropped it on the countertop. “Fuck. How will I ever sleep at night if I don’t find out if Glen’s alive? Crosby was my Walking Dead buddy. But like any good buddy, I’m going to wait ’til he gets his memory and his life back before I watch the rest of the season. So tell him to get his shit together so we can finish already. We’re totally behind.”
Ella snorted. “Did you hear me? We’re talking Marina. He said the vibe he got about her was a sisterly vibe.”
“I heard, and that’s just gone all kinds of too kooky-kinky, even for me.”
“When he shifted, he went to the fence.”
“That warrior.”
“He said the reason he went to the fence was because Marina was on the other side.”
“Ah. Behold the power of the booby.”
“Something’s not right on the other side of the fence in Gordon’s Crest, Lola.”
Lola dragged the tip of her finger down the bridge of Ella’s nose. “You’re not right on the other side of the fence, Kitten.”
“No. I mean, whatever’s on that land between our side and the next town is wrong. There’s this smell… Well, let me clarify. There are lots of smells, and they’re bad. So bad. But there’s also one I can’t pinpoint for the life of me because the other bad smells keep getting in the way, but I know it’s important. It’s something I can’t even begin to describe, but it kept me up half the night.”
“You sure that wasn’t Crosby up half the night?”
“I’m being serious. I smelled something indescribable. Fear and…something that scared the hell out of me.”
“Well, that’s a human’s scent for you.”
“No, Lola. I’m not jacking you around. Something’s on the other side of that fence. Something, someone… I dunno. It’s just something.” The aroma of it still lingered in her nose even now. Or maybe it was just her imagination. Either way, the fear she’d sensed on the other side of the fence was bigger than she was, and it deserved investigation. It made her shiver all over again.
“I know that look, Ella.”
She frowned. “What look?”
“The one that says shit’s gonna fly because you can’t keep your impulsiveness at bay.”
God. Was she that transparent? “Nuh-uh.”
“Oh, uh-huh, girlie.”
“Okay. Maybe shit will fly. I’ll try not to let it hit you if it does.”
“When it does. It’s always when with you,” Lola reminded her, finally sitting up and rubbing at the red mark on her cheek from the countertop.
Ella rolled her neck with another groan, this time pressing her forehead to the cool stone counter. “I need a distraction from all this Crosby time.”
“Distraction…unfavorable, freaked-out pack reaction. Really, what’s the difference with you?”
“Again, I ask, whose side are you on?”
“The side that has the least Dorito-flavored vomit on the floor after the party.”
&n
bsp; “So you’re saying you don’t want to help me?”
“I’m saying no Dorito-flavored vomit.” She lifted her glass and slammed back her shot of tequila with a hiss of pleasure, followed by a grin of satisfaction.
Ella sat up now, too. A renewed sense of purpose. “So, where’s your laptop?”
“What did it ever do to you?”
“I’m not going to hurt it, silly. I just want to google it.”
“So you can leave a trail of your shit that leads right back to me. Perfect.”
“Oh, stop. It’s not like I’m looking up ways to make nuclear bombs.”
Lola grabbed her Mac from the far corner of the kitchen and slid it toward Ella with a wary glance. “Well, you’re sure not lookin’ up the Booty Pop.”
“Nope, but I am looking up a booty that pops. Among other things that pop.”
“Ah, yes. The other woman you like who has big brestesez and big brainz and big Barbie hairz.”
Ella nodded, the clip in her hair swaying. “Yeah. It’s time I figure out who this woman is. How many Marina Prestons can there be in Gordon’s Crest?”
“My impossible dream says only the one you’re looking for. My reality says that, while it’s not a common name, it’s not Moon Unit. So I call we drink while we surf your doom.”
Ella held up her glass and chugged the liquid back, the stinging in her throat a welcome reminder she was about to embark on some therapeutic boozing. “I love you so hard right now. So. Hard. You’re a good friend, Lola-Falola.”
“No. I’m an enabler. And give me that—you’ll scratch the mouse pad with your goofy fingers.”
Ella gave her a wobbly hug, planting a kiss on her best friend’s check before refilling their glasses. “Thank you, enabling friend. You’re an enabler among men.”
Lola waved her off, pulling her long thatch of hair over her shoulder and brushing her bluntly cut bangs from her eyes. She rolled up her sleeves and cracked her knuckles. “So here we go. Marina plus Gordon’s Crest.” She typed the words into the search bar with deft, pink-tipped fingers and clicked on the first link.
Their mouths fell open simultaneously when they saw what the link had opened.
“Hey, you know? She does kind of look like Barbie,” Lola muttered, chin in hand.
Bad Case of Loving You Page 7
