Human Interaction

by Cheyenne Meadows

  "You found my address?" I questioned softly.

  He nodded. "Best idea I could come up with. Ducian bet me it wouldn't work." For the first time a genuine grin appeared.

  Blinking, I sat up straighter in my seat. "Bet?" I clamped down on the emerging anger. After all that and I was a means for a bet?

  "Yeah."

  "Maybe you should explain." I gritted my teeth. So help me if he slunk farther than big jerk status, I was going to duct tape him to the door and leave him there.

  He grinned, leaning closer. "I thought flowers would get you to come in. He disagreed. Thought that if I wanted to see you again, I would have to track you down personally."

  "I see." This didn't seem to be getting any better. "What did you win?"

  Meat grinned proudly, crossing his arms over his chest. "The winner paid for our dinner date."

  I blinked. "Our?"

  He nodded. "I won the bet; he pays for the dinner date between you and me. If I had lost, I would have had to pay for it myself."

  Wait a minute. His declaration sideswiped me. "What dinner date?" He wanted to go out with me? Perplexed, I tilted my head in question. Date. Exotic dancer. MIA husband. My mind whirled with complicated thoughts.

  He took my right hand in between both his, and then brought the back of it up to his lips for a butterfly soft kiss. "Will you do me the honor of eating dinner with me?"

  You only live once. "I can't eat dinner with you until I know your real name." I lowered my head, but peered up at him through my lashes. "I certainly can't be calling you Meat in the restaurant, can I?"

  He grinned, still keeping hold of my hand. "Tygerius Augustus Tacticus at your service."

  Blinking, I sputtered. "Tiggers Are Us, what?"

  He snorted in response. "Tygerius. Ty-Jeer-E-Us."

  "Ty-ger-i-us," I echoed. "Italian much? Let me guess, descendent of Spartacus?" I prodded, tongue in cheek.

  His mouth turned up farther, revealing white fangs just barely visible behind those full lips.

  "You must be old, too." I rolled my eyes.

  Humans might rule the world in numbers, but on the scale of life longevity, we fall quite short. Vampires and shapeshifters tended to exist for centuries, barring a violent end. Another reason they'd kept their presence quiet, for fear the humans would slap them into some research lab to determine how to steal such blessings and discover the secret to disease resistance. Modern laws and the Peace Protection Division protected against that very thing.

  One eyebrow arched up. "Why do you say that?"

  I looked down, toeing the wood floor with the tip of one tennis shoe. "No one names their kids that anymore. Heck, probably not since the fall of Rome. They name them things like Dakota, Brady, and Hunter." I looked up to his face once more. "Not a usual name at all."

  He shrugged, quickly followed by a wry grin. "Baby, there isn't one thing about me that is 'usual'." The twinkle returned to his eyes.

  Oh, great. He returned to the land of not-so-subtle innuendos. Best to move out of the tiny dressing room before he descended into the gutter. I would hate to have to kick him in the shin and be trapped in his odd wardrobe closet for the duration of the night. Much wiser to get out in the open. Then, if retaliation occurred, at least I could run for my life.

  I pushed past him, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway. He didn't speak, only followed, pulling the door shut behind him.

  A whirlwind of a person slammed past me and into my supposed dinner date. Turning, I caught the sight of a tall, curvy blonde wrapped in his arms. Her flame red dress cut high, really high. I imagined most men would be bending over to satisfy their curiosity on where that seam really did go.

  She whispered in his ear, giggling and shifting her body against his. Her hands roamed with what appeared to be confident familiarity.

  I stood there debating what to do. What does one say in this kind of situation? Excuse me, but you could get your germ-ridden hands off my date. I would hate to touch him in those places later as I am unsure if you washed your hands after using the bathroom the last time. Or did you just come from another man's bed and didn't wash your hands after fondling his you know what? Hmmm. Maybe a bit jealous sounding. Toning it down would probably be best. Something along the lines of, Hey, sluttily dressed woman, can you remove your paws from my man? Hmmm. Nope. That isn't quite it either.

  I settled for clearing my throat. When that didn't work, I tried again, much louder this time.

  The blonde turned to face me. The sheer radiance of her face surprised me. If this were a beauty contest she would be the Marilyn Monroe contestant. I would be Lassie.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you," she murmured in a husky voice. The top portion of the dress clung dangerously to overly large, braless cleavage. Between nature and the chilly evening, nature spoke loudly enough about her lack of undergarments.

  No wonder Meat… err… Tygerius had his arms wrapped around her. He was probably counting his lucky stars to have her in his vicinity and clicking off the minutes until he could toss her onto the bed. I glanced back to the door we just emerged through. The small dressing room would easily work in a pinch.

  She quickly returned her attention back to Meat. Annoyed, I crossed my arms over my chest and clanged my heel against the floorboards.

  "Excuse me. Tiggers Are Us?" Okay. It was a bit childish, but seeing my potential first date in four years being whisked away by a supermodel who I couldn't come close to matching in style, body, or sheer presence, sent my civility plummeting.

  Meat flicked his attention back to me. A scowl crossed his face.

  "I'm sorry. Are we ready to go eat?" I asked nicely.

  His female friend quickly pouted those painted red lips. I never wore lipstick. If I did, I'm sure mine would never look as sexy and inviting as hers. Mine would end up all over the place and look more like clown paint than alluring makeup.

  "I thought this was our night, honey?" she purred, leaning up against his side.

  Meat's eyes flashed from my face to hers. His mouth opened but no words came forth.

  With a deep sigh, I made the decision for him. "Don't worry about it. Go on with your previous plans." I turned and walked a couple of steps down the hallway. His voice stopped me.

  "Shy…"

  I glanced back at him, noting the blonde had one arm around his back, the other blatantly groping his jeans.

  "It's okay. Really. I understand." Dropping my head, I worked my way through the maze to the exit.

  I did understand. Beautiful people belonged together. A sexy hunk like him deserved to be with someone who mirrored his image. Someone like Marilyn.

  CHAPTER 9

  The doorbell chimed. I glanced at the clock and frowned. Who in the world would be here at seven-thirty am? Family would just walk or poof in. Friends called beforehand. But no one showed up this early unless they had bad news to depart.

  For a brief second, I considered ignoring the summons. If indeed they carried depressing information, I already had my fill in life. Sticking my head in the sand and hiding seemed a better and saner route.

  "Mommy. Doorbell," Sasha announced from his seat at the kitchen table.

  He was the oldest and quite the character already. Dishwater blond hair accented hazel eyes that matched my own. One look at those adorable dimples and his easygoing nature with people and I predicted he would break a few hearts along the way. On the other hand, Chance, the younger, was the spitting image of his father. Dark brown waves of thick hair matched melted chocolate eyes that looked at life more seriously than his age indicated. He took the 'man of the house' designation to heart, trying to watch out for not only his brother, but everyone else that lived under the roof.

  The doorbell sounded again, more insistent this time. Grumbling, I dropped the whisk in the bowl of mix, wiped my hands on a nearby towel, and headed to the front door, boys trailing behind me. I peeked through the peephole and gasped. Certainly not the person I would expect to
see. Besides, I thought he preferred more of a night owl life compared to an early riser. Although, technically this time in the morning could qualify as the end of his night shift.

  Grudgingly, I opened the big front door, unlocked the storm door, and stepped out on the porch.

  Meat stood before me, a single white rose in hand. His eyes raked my face. "I'm glad I didn't wake you."

  His jeans looked worn, the navy blue button-up shirt a bit wrinkled. The nearly black tresses appeared brushed, but a bit rebellious.

  His eyes caught my attention. Of all the times I've been around him, I've never seen them so… dull. Maybe tired and a bit downtrodden as well.

  Sasha stepped through the door to grab onto my jeans leg, staring up at Meat. Chance followed suit, heading to my other side as they both studied the visitor.

  "I got a penis," Sasha declared proudly.

  I groaned and ducked my head. Of all the people and times to make the obvious known. I had hoped he would get bored with that word. No such luck.

  A slow smile spread across Meat's face as he looked down at Sasha. His dark blue eyes seemed to spark with more spirit.

  The timer rang in the background, alerting me that the rolls needed to be removed from the oven. I looked up at Meat.

  He bent down and ruffled Sasha's hair. "That's a very good thing." He shot Chance a grin.

  Sasha smiled from ear to ear in response to the attention.

  Kneeling down, Meat looked each boy in the eye, holding out his hand to shake their much smaller ones. "Nice to meet you. I'm…"

  "Meat!" Both boys exclaimed at once.

  His eyebrows shot up in obvious surprise.

  I sighed and softly explained. "I'm afraid I spoke of you before knowing your real name. They latched onto 'Meat' and…"

  "The rest is history so they say." He finished my statement.

  "Have you eaten yet?"

  Meat simply stood back up, not indicating either way.

  Taking that for a 'no,' I motioned him inside, herding the boys in front of me. "Come on. Might as well join us."

  "Thanks." He followed me through the door for an impromptu breakfast with my little family.

  * * * *

  No sooner were we finished eating than the boys began to clamor about playing baseball. Their grandfather introduced them to the sport literally as infants. No other outcome could be expected when their idolized grandfather adored the game. The boys simply followed suit.

  "C'mon, Mom. You promised!" Chance reminded. He stood and tugged at my arm. "Please?"

  Sasha joined in. "Grandpa said we needed p'tice."

  I gave in. "Okay. Okay." Glancing over, I found Meat sitting with his elbows on the table, watching the kids pester me. Civil and quiet, he didn't add much to the conversation during the early morning meal. Of course, with the boys always jabbering away, it can be hard to get a word in edgewise.

  "Go get your equipment while I clean the table." I started gathering dishes.

  "Yay!" Both boys took off, sounding like a thundering herd of horses in their enthusiasm to get started.

  Meat stood, carrying his plate and glass, placing them gently in the sink as I continued the task of clearing the table. The white rose he'd brought stood in a vase in the center, giving a homey feel to the room. A light scent wafted by my nose now and again, reminding me of summer days, rose gardens, and lazy afternoons sipping sun tea.

  With the boys out of earshot, I finally asked the question that had been burning my brain since he appeared at my door. "Why are you here?" Blunt and to the point, the words possibly bordered on rudeness, but I didn't want to play any more games. My self-esteem and emotional health could only take so much.

  Meat placed one of the boys' plates in the sink. "I wanted to talk to you." He turned, meeting my eyes. "I needed to explain."

  "About?"

  "Mom! We're ready! C'mon!" Chance yelled from the front door.

  "Coming." I placed the butter back in the fridge. "You want to join us?" I asked, watching Meat nod and pull up the rear of the small wagon train.

  The boys were already playing catch by the time Meat and I passed through the front door. I climbed down the front steps midway, then sat. Meat followed my lead, taking a place beside me. Resting my hands on my knees, I watched the boys at play. The mid-November day made for perfect outdoor activity weather, Indian summer, the weatherman called it, with temperatures well above average for the time of year.

  Meat took one of my hands. His eyes locked on mine as his lips brushed ever so tenderly across my palm. "I wanted to explain about Misha."

  I pulled my sluggish brain back into think-mode. "Misha?"

  He nodded, not relinquishing my hand, but sandwiching it between his two larger ones. One finger slowly caressed my palm as he began to elaborate. "The one you saw at the club with me. She's a friend." He quickly inserted that last part.

  My eyebrow shot up. Uh huh. While naïve, I certainly wasn't born yesterday.

  He ran one hand through his hair. "Yes, she's a friend. We aren't mates."

  I pulled my hand back to my lap, returning my attention to the boys. "She's beautiful." What I really wanted to ask, I beat back down. No sense in appearing vulnerable, needy, and clingy to him.

  He only shrugged.

  Back to the silent treatment.

  I watched as Sasha missed the ball Chance tossed and ran a few feet to the side to retrieve it. "You chose her over me." There I said it. Statement of fact.

  His hand caught my chin, turning me to face him. "Misha was in heat."

  Heat in shifters remained a whispered secret, not common knowledge to humans. However, one didn't work for the Peace Protection Division, which prided itself on equal numbers of employees from each species variety, without picking up a few facts here and there.

  "She's certainly got the looks; I don't think she'd have an ounce of trouble finding a man to help her out with that," I countered, sounding a bit jealous and petty. The sting of being rejected still pulsed fresh in my gut.

  He frowned at my comment, but continued. "Misha… has some trust issues. Life hasn't always been good for her." He released my chin, but held my gaze with those deep intense eyes. "Like I said, we're friends. She needed my help and I told her in the past I'd be there for her."

  I took a moment to ponder the explanation. "So, you went with her last night to…"

  I stopped there. What was I supposed to say? A high road kind of woman would say 'to help her' and take satisfaction that Meat showed his honesty, integrity, and followed through with his promises. The lower road, where I now resided, wanted to fume back that he'd offered me dinner, then in the next minute, left with this Misha to go screw her brains out for the next who knew how many hours. Or maybe that would be days? I glanced again at his wrinkled shirt. The sting rushed back in a heartbeat.

  "You just came from her." Another statement. No use in asking when I could easily see the evidence for myself.

  He simply nodded. "I needed to see you. To explain." He fidgeted, rubbing an invisible smudge from the knee of his jeans.

  My chin lowered as I focused on my shoes. Every time I saw this man, he managed to tear another tiny piece of my heart away. Lord, I wanted him. Badly. Yet, each time some monkey wrench came flying in from left field. Together with my deep down concerns about betraying my MIA husband, Meat and I were moving along at snail speed. When would I know for sure about Wills? What if the answer was never? Could I leave him in the past and move on?

  "I see." I quickly built a solid wall around my heart in preparation.

  He caught my hand again, pulling it up to brush his lips over my palm. "Shy?"

  I looked up into his face. Those eyes spoke of sorrow and worry. "I'm sorry. The timing couldn't have been worse. I… I didn't…"

  "Don't worry about it." I pulled myself back up to the high road once more. I had many years of practice putting on a bright façade, letting others believe I bounced back from life's fastballs like a kid o
n a trampoline.

  Rotating my hand, Meat placed another soft, lingering kiss on the back of my knuckles. "I do worry about it." His tongue flicked over the area once more. "You see. I wanted to have dinner with you last night. Still do." He shot me a lopsided grin. "I guess technically we've eaten together, but I was hoping for something a bit more romantic."

  I resisted the temptation to give into his flirting. "Why me?"

  His head tilted. "Why not you?"

  I shrugged. "She's much more beautiful." I slipped back to the petty side again. So sue me.

  "Again, we're not mates. She's not the one for me." A tone of conviction carried across in those words.

  "And you think I am?" I blinked up at him.

  His grin appeared enough to trigger a dimple in his left cheek. "I hope so."

  I could only stare and kick my brain into deciphering those words with an analytical view. Don't all shapeshifters 'hope' they find their mate? I knew that much. So, did that mean he liked me? Or he was just playing me long enough to get me in bed and find out for sure? If not, then he would run off again, chasing after another woman? Besides, what happens if Misha goes into heat again? He will be right back at her side no matter where our relationship stood. Urgh. All that thinking gave me a headache.

  Chance ran over, distracting me. "Mommy, come play with us." He grabbed my free hand, giving it a tug.

  Sasha did the same with his newfound friend. "C'mon. Play ball!" Sasha turned, pulling Meat behind him.

  After shooting me a smile, Meat joined in, taking the ball, and pitching it slowly for the boys to try to hit.

  I had visions of baseball meets the Meat. Oddly enough, those thoughts brightened my mood. If only the boys had better control over where the ball would go…

  The whapping sound of a bat meeting ball broke into my thoughts. The softly hit ball slowly rolled in my direction. Acting surprised, I playfully watched it pass between my legs. Chance took the opportunity to dash from one tree to the next. I bobbled the baseball, keeping an eye on my dark-headed son as he scurried around the 'bases'.