“Maybe,” Jolie said. “He’s not in love with you or anything, is he?”
“No.” The lie came out so easily, it shocked her. She rationalized it by focusing on the facts: what he felt for her wasn’t love—co-dependency and loyalty weren’t the same as romantic love. And the person Carter loved was a fantasy, not who she really was.
“Does he know you’re asking me?”
Eden imagined Jolie leaning back in her chair, deciding which questions to ask to make this more difficult. “No, he doesn’t.”
“So, what, you want me to pretend I never spoke to you and ask him out?”
“Yes, but it seemed like a better idea before this call.”
“He’s younger and poorer than I usually go for, but he’s cute.” A pause. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
Eden let out her breath. “That’s fantastic. Thank you.”
“But I’m not paying. And I don’t do Dutch.”
“Ok-ay.” That wasn’t a concern—Carter wasn’t the kind of guy who would let a woman pay for anything. Now she just had to figure out a place for them to go. “Do you like movies?”
“No.”
“Parks?”
“No.”
“Restaurants?”
“As long as it isn’t Chili’s, that’ll do. Are you going to chaperone?”
“No. And it won’t be Chili’s.”
“Better not be, Eden.”
God, the woman was more like Mitch than Eden had realized. “Don’t tell him I asked you to call, okay?”
“I thought you didn’t lie.”
Eden took her time answering. “People change, I guess.”
“Hey, Eden. I was just messing with you. We already spoke.” She laughed.
Eden almost dropped the phone. “You what?”
“We have plans for tonight. But it was so fun to make you work for it, I couldn’t resist. You’re not mad, are you?”
As if she even cared. “Mad? Um . . . no, I guess not. Confused, yes. And glad. But that wasn’t nice, Jolie.”
She giggled. “I know, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. No hard feelings?”
“None.” At least no new ones. “Have a good time tonight . . . and be nice to him.”
“Oh, I will.” She sighed, the giddiness of her big joke disappearing from her voice. “With us being out and Mitch being human, maybe you should go over to his house and ask him to keep you company.”
That was unexpected. Eden had always thought the reason for Jolie’s dislike of her was the time she spent with Mitch. Maybe everyone was changing.
“Yeah, I think I might.” She didn’t mention that she’d already set up a date between Mitch and Chastity. Thankfully, with bars between them.
“Oh, and he thinks it’s annoying when women talk while he’s fucking them, so keep your mouth shut. Unless it’s otherwise occupied.” She chuckled.
Eden had no words to respond with.
“Another joke, Eden. I’m sure he’ll be gentle with you. You’ve gotten under his skin. Maybe all the way to his heart, who knows? I think you’d make a”—she paused—“magnificent couple.”
Not believing that in the slightest, Eden finally found her voice. “Thank you. But I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Why not? What are you, twenty-three? You’re allowed to live a little. Have fun. I know I will.”
After Jolie hung up on her, Eden wondered if she’d chosen the right woman for Carter. Or if Carter had chosen the right woman for himself.
Ever.
“Live a little,” she repeated. It was a fairly new concept for her. She’d always prided herself on making the right decisions, being “good” all the time. But that had nothing to do with “living a little”. It had never occurred to her to include that in her life-plan. Would she be a bad person if she chose to sleep with someone she was incredibly attracted to and had feelings for? Sure, not all those feelings were positive, but, somehow, that made the idea even more intriguing.
Maybe Mitch was the one she’d been waiting for. At least he was honest with himself. Which was more than she could say for herself. Maybe denying her own wants and needs was part of why she was in this mess to begin with. Like Mitch had theorized about Hyde—if she let that emotion out in daily doses, it might keep it from dumping out all at once in the form of a red-headed menace. She knew where she stood with Mitch and where she would stand if they did come together. If he’d have her.
One step at a time. Cross one hurdle before worrying about the next one.
She waited about thirty minutes before calling Carter. She got his voice mail and left a quick message, letting him know that she’d spoken to Jolie. True. That the idea of a date had come up. Also true. And that he’d better pick a nice place to take Jolie to. All true. Hurray for me.
An hour later, he called her back, skepticism seeping through his voice.
“Hey, Jolie and I spoke before I got your message. It took me a while to get my mind moving again and check my voice mail. So this is okay with you?”
Darn it, why did he still assume she had some sort of say in his love life? “I think it’s great. It would be good for you to get out. And who knows what will happen.”
“She wants to meet tonight, but tonight is . . .”
Tonight is Chastity’s. “I know. I’m still not sure why Mitch wants you there, anyway. I’ll be in a cage for goodness sake. I’ll talk to him.”
“I already tried that. It’s a condition he isn’t budging on, but I’ll be there by the time you go to sleep. Just stay up a bit later than usual.”
Eden didn’t say it, but she was glad Carter would be there. She needed a buffer between Chastity and Mitch, so Eden would know for sure that they didn’t do it through the bars. The line went silent for so long, Eden thought they’d lost the connection.
“Eden, I should have checked with you first. I’m sorry. You sure you’re okay with this?”
“Absolutely. Jolie is”—she struggled to find the right word—“a catch.” Kind of. “But she doesn’t know about Chastity so, if you can, could you drop her off before going to Mitch’s? Oh, and whatever you do, don’t take her to Chili’s.”
After he agreed not to bring Jolie to Mitch’s or to any restaurant that had paper placemats, they said a quick goodbye, and Eden went back to worrying about what the evening held for her. What could she wear that Chastity wouldn’t pull off? Nothing. She’d have to make the men promise to keep their eyes closed. Yeah, like that’d work. She repeated, “The human body is beautiful, and it’s nothing they haven’t seen before,” to herself and hoped it would sink in before bedtime. Heck, she knew Chastity had displayed all of their parts to the men before, so her body was definitely something they’d seen before.
Since Carter hadn’t moved out yet, and Eden wanted to be gone when he came home to get ready for his date, she left her apartment at six o’clock. The walk to Mitch’s took longer than it needed to. She stopped to window shop without really seeing and watched people on the street whose biggest worries were what they would make for dinner.
She’d lost her appetite weeks ago. Well, she’d lost her appetite for food weeks ago, but her hunger for the man she would be seeing soon was starting to overwhelm her.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Mitch got home to find Eden sitting on his driveway. She stood and brushed herself off as his car pulled in.
“Reporting for duty, sir.” A quick salute with the wrong hand and half a smile. It was nice to see her smile.
“Yeah.” After days of wondering how he could keep her safe while still pushing her away, he was still no closer to an answer. Thank goodness he was a people-person. Riiight. Maybe he could lock her up early and spend the evening in his room . . . jerking off.
She followed him inside, taking nervous little steps like she didn’t know what to do with herself. Which made two of them.
“Carter’s coming, right?” he asked.
“Later, yes. He has plans, but he’ll b
e here.”
“Plans, huh?” Mitch had his own plans—keeping the idiot awake even if it involved some Clockwork Orange-esque equipment.
She wasn’t hungry, but he would force her to eat if he had to. Her eyes had dark rings under them and she looked thinner. In four days.
“Eat.” He plopped a plate of left-over Chinese food in front of her and sat down with his own.
She picked at the Chow Mein until she succumbed to his glare and put a few noodles into her mouth.
“Do I need to tell you to chew?”
She shook her head and ate.
He shoveled some hard rice into his mouth and winced. “Yeah. Not good.” Picking up both of their plates, he threw them into the trash and went in search of something palatable.
“How was your day?” she asked.
“You wanna play house? Fine. My day sucked. How was yours?”
“It sucked.”
He smirked. “When do you go back to school?”
She blinked. “Um . . . Wow, I hadn’t even thought about it. I guess classes start in late August, but I’m not sure I’m going.”
“You want this to be your life? Make everything about her? That’s a bad idea. It’ll kill you.” When she didn’t respond, he went back to searching the freezer. “You like pizza?”
“Yeah. How do you do it? Have a day-job, knowing what you are?”
He unwrapped the pizza, threw it in the oven and turned the thing on. Pre-heating was for wusses. Burnt pizza was a delicacy. “First off, I don’t have the four-day cycle, so that makes it easier. But even when I did, I still went to school, did dishes, brushed my teeth, same as everybody else.” He shrugged. “You do what you gotta do.”
“I need to be a bad person. Test your theory. I just haven’t figured out a way to be bad.”
He tried to hide his smile. “Okay, first lesson. Say ‘fuck’.”
She looked at him doubtfully.
“What, you can’t say it? It’s just a word.”
“I know. But I don’t think that’ll make me a bad person.”
“Say it then.”
She gathered herself, sitting up in her chair like she was about to address Congress. “Fuck.”
“Nice. Now mean it.”
She shrugged. “Mean it?”
“Use it in a sentence. Tell me to go fuck myself.”
“Go fuck yourself.” She giggled.
“Oh, Christ. You’re a lost cause.” He held a beer out to her. She declined. “Let’s try something else. Lie to me.”
“About what?”
“Ugh! This is impossible. How am I supposed to help you if you don’t at least try?”
She pinched her lips together in thought. “You’re an amazing man.”
“That’s better. How’d it feel?”
“I wasn’t lying.”
He coughed on his mouthful of beer. “Don’t do that.”
“What? Tell the truth?”
He couldn’t move, his breath caught in his throat. Why was she making it so difficult to push her away? “I’m not—”
“I hate you.”
He blinked, confused.
She grinned. “I was lying. I don’t hate you. I probably should. No, I definitely should, but I don’t. Let me try it again.” She squinted her eyes, considering what to lay on him next.
“Lie about someone else. Not me.” He didn’t want to hear any more of her opinions about him. Ever again.
Her eyes dropped to the countertop. “I’m totally okay with what’s happening to me. It’s fine. I barely think about it at all. I’ll have a totally normal life—husband who adores me, two or three babies, a dog, a cute little house, a job I love—the works.” When she looked up at him, his heart broke, a reflection of hers. He knew her pain, though he’d never even let himself consider having those things she’d obviously dreamt of.
“That was good,” he said.
“The pizza’s burning.”
“Okay.” He took a breath, still holding her gaze. Then he smelled it. “Oh, shit. It’s burning!” He threw open the oven door and, barehanded, grabbed the paper tray he should have taken off before cooking the damn thing. The burn hit him a second after. He dropped it, half on and half off the door. He grabbed a towel from the counter and caught about a third of the crust, the rest in a cheesy puddle on the floor. “Shit!”
“That’s okay. I like burnt pizza. It’s a delicacy.” She leaned on the island and peered over.
“The pizza is fine. Kind of. It’s the tray that’s blackened. Do you like burnt paper?”
“It’s my favorite.”
“You’re getting good at this.”
“I know. I like it when my fucking pizza is fucking burnt.” Her smile was like the first ray of sunshine after months of rain.
“Fucking beautiful.” Oh, shit. He’d said that out loud. She was as surprised as he was. “The pizza. I meant the pizza—fucking beautiful.” He hadn’t convinced either one of them. Damn it.
“I can tell when you are lying.”
“What? No you can’t.”
She nodded. “Yes, I can. You have a tell.”
“What’s a ‘tell’?”
“Don’t you play poker? A tell is a gesture or something that people can’t stop themselves from doing. Whenever you lie, you do your tell.”
“No, I don’t.” What had he done? What had she seen as his tell?
She shrugged, walked around the island and started to pick up the pizza that he’d completely forgotten about.
He bent down to help. “I don’t have a tell, and I wasn’t lying.”
“I think you lie so often, you don’t know when you’re doing it anymore.” She ripped off a chunk of the pizza from the oven door and bit into it. “You’re a great cook.”
“Alright. Point taken. Now you can stop.” Scooping the mess of cheese off the floor with a spatula, he dumped it in the garbage.
You gotta work on your poker face, asshole.
§ § §
They spent the rest of the evening in front of the television, Mitch trying to hide his frequent glances toward her with awkward shifts of his body and feigned interest in the clock on the wall behind her. Eventually he realized the clock hands weren’t moving and started checking his watch. Excruciating.
“Where the hell is your boyfriend?”
“He’ll be here.”
“It’s ten o’clock!”
“Past your bedtime, Mitch?”
Huh, she really did call him Mitch. Why had he never noticed it before? Only two people had ever called him Mitch and gotten away with it—his father, because Mitch had had no choice in the matter and from whom he’d learned to hate the nickname, and Shelly, because she was the only one who said it with love. Whoa, stop that connection right there.
“Don’t call me Mitch.”
Her eyes flashed at his tone. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was.”
“Call your boyfriend and tell him to get his ass over here, pronto.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to bug him. He’s on a date. He’ll be here before twelve.”
“He’s on a date?” He felt his lip lift in a scowl. “I didn’t know you had that sort of arrangement. Score another point to your inner bad-girl.” Two more hours of waiting. Shit.
She straightened. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore. Actually, he was never really my boyfriend, so can we drop it?”
“Sure.” It was nice to see some of her fire, her sass. He turned back to the television. “You watching this?”
“No.”
He flicked it off and tossed the remote onto the coffee table.
“I hate waiting.” She leaned back on the other end of the sofa, sinking into the cushions.
“Okay, lesson one and two you have,” he said. “Let’s move on to lesson three.”
“What’s lesson three? Stealing? Coveting thy neighbor’s goods?”
“I suppose adultery is out of the question now that your boyfriend isn’t your boyfriend,
huh?”
“Is that lesson three? Sex?” There was an urgency in her voice, an intensity he hadn’t heard before.
“No, that’s lesson five.” He laughed. “Don’t worry, you have another couple of things to learn before you need to start panicking about that one.”
Hyde, an Urban Fantasy Page 22