And I am so screwed.
TEN
I COULD NEVER BE YOUR WOMAN
REASONS WHY I ABSOLUTELY, positively cannot be in love with Will Price: He’s a werewolf. He has serious anger issues, though I know he’d never raise a hand to anyone he loves. He’s moody. He’s mucho possessive. He’s over twenty years older than me, though he doesn’t look it. He’s probably still in love with his dead wife. He’s my boss. But wait, I pretty much quit my job. Okay, so I’ll probably never see him again. Nice save, Bea. Okay, the biggie. We’ve never kissed. How can I possibly be in love with someone I’ve never even kissed? It’s unthinkable.
As I climb out of bed, I have more or less convinced myself that there is no chance I’m in love with him. It’s only taken two hours of staring at the wall, but I’ve come to my senses. I walk out of my bedroom ready to face the day and—
Oh. My. God.
Nope. I was wrong. Head over heels in love.
Will stands shirtless and sweating in my kitchen, drinking milk with a little dribbling down his chin. His everything is perfect. Flat stomach, well-defined muscles all glistening, and rugged face turned up in ecstasy. I blush from tip to toes. My little whimper draws his attention. The glass drops from his mouth as he sheepishly smiles. “Morning,” he says putting the milk on the counter and grabbing
his shirt from beside it.
“Hi,” I all but sigh and wave. Wave!
He pulls on his shirt. “Sorry. I was thirsty after my run.”
“You ran? You went for a run? That’s nice. Running’s nice.” Shut the heck up, you crazy person.
“Yeah. I, uh, ran around the cemetery.”
“Cemetery. Good place to run, a cemetery. They’re nice.” I need to staple my mouth shut right this instant.
“Peaceful,” he says, shaking his head vigorously. “Peaceful … run. Refreshing,” he says as an afterthought. And then a full ten seconds of brutal, uncomfortable silence where we look at everything but each other.
My brain reboots and the social-niceties link opens. “Did you sleep well?” I ask. “Was the bed comfortable? The sheets? The pillows?”
“Yes. Thank you,” he says, relieved. “And your grandmother is just wonderful. She made me breakfast before she left.”
“She did?”
“Um, yeah,” he says, grabbing two coffee cups from the hooks on the cabinet. He turns around and I sit on the stool at the bar that faces the kitchen. “She’s great.” He pours the coffee and milk. “She’s really proud of you.”
“She’s not angry that I lied?”
“I explained the situation to her.” He spins back around and hands me a cup of coffee. Milk and sugar, the way I like it.
“Thank you.” He remembered. I coo inside but outside my poker face remains for all of three seconds until I glance at the dining room table and notice the photo albums piled on it. Oh no. She didn’t!
Will’s gaze follows mine. “So, yeah. She wanted to show me a few photos.”
I know what she showed him. Me and Brian as kids naked in a bathtub. Fat ten-year-old me squeezed into a pink tutu surrounded by munchkin six-year-olds. Me at thirteen with zits, braces, and a horrible haircut that made my head look so big people thought I had the mumps. Sixteen-year-old me in blue, yellow, and white polyester shorts, shirt, and go-go hat during my tenure at Hot Dog on a Stick. She did the same thing with Steven.
“Of course she did,” I mutter. Black hole in the ground, take me now.
“You were cute. I mean, you are cute. Now,” he stumbles. “But you were cute then too. You, you know what I mean.”
“I can figure it out,” I say. And awkward silence time. “So, um, do you have plans for the day? Are you guys leaving right away?”
“Um, no. We’re gonna stick around until tonight just to, um, keep up appearances. Just in case.”
“Oh. Good. Appearances and all. Very important.” All day. Alone. Just him, me, and my mouth. I give it an hour before I blurt out my ridiculous feelings.
“Your grandmother asked me to help with the tree and decorations. For Christmas.”
“I totally forgot about that,” I say. I’d feel like such a sucky granddaughter if she hadn’t shown the man I love a picture of me in a bathing suit. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No, I’d love to. Haven’t really celebrated Christmas in years.”
“Really? What do you guys do?” I ask, stunned. Not celebrating the holidays is a crime against nature, completely inconceivable, and just plain wrong.
“Well, Chandler and Rush usually fly home unless something comes up. The rest of us just give gifts on the day.”
“No tree? Carols?” Even Brian managed to suppress his rage long enough for us to get through “Silent Night.” “What about Nancy? She’s only seventeen. She deserves a Christmas.”
“We have a massive tree, we just don’t put it up ourselves. George hires people to come in and decorate.”
“Then I am sure glad I came home,” I say, mortified. “No Christmas,” I huff. “Barbarians.”
His eyes crinkle as he smiles. Oh, I hope our kids inherit that. And his eyes. And his devotion. And—
“I’ve missed it,” he says, just realizing it. “Mary always made such a huge deal about Christmas,” he says, referring to his dead wife. All thoughts of hypothetical children vanish.
“Really?”
He starts playing with his ring finger as he does when he thinks about her. Makes my stomach hurt every time. “Yeah. We’d go out to this Christmas tree farm every year and dig one up. Then we’d go home, put on her favorite movie, The Sound of Music, and decorate. It took hours just to do the popcorn garland. Then at the stroke of midnight, we’d open presents.”
“We open one on Christmas Eve,” I say, “but I’d usually stay awake and sneak another after Nana went to bed.”
“I used to do that too. As a kid.” He stops playing with his finger. “I always loved Christmas.”
“Then you are more than welcome to help with ours.”
“Thank you.” He takes a last swig of his coffee and smiles shyly. “Guess I should hit the shower then.” He puts the coffee cup and milk glass into the dishwasher. And he’s a respectful house guest. I bite my lower lip to stop the longing sigh from escaping. I don’t move until I hear the water turn on in the bathroom.
I grab the portable phone, running out back to the side of the house while punching in April’s number. Someone picks up on
the third ring. “Diego residence,” Javi says.
“Javi, it’s Bea. Is April there?” I ask, not hiding the desperation in my voice.
“Yeah. Are you okay?”
“Relatively.”
“Give me that,” April says. The phone exchanges hands. “Bea? Are you okay? We’ve been worried to death!”
“You didn’t get my message?”
“Not until this morning! I called and Nana Liz said you were safe, but … you scared the hell out of us!”
“We’re all safe. I promise.”
“Then why do you sound like hell?”
“Because something horrible has happened,” I say, near tears. “And I have no frigging clue what to do about it.”
“What?” she asks. I open my mouth, but the words won’t come out. If I say it then it becomes real, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that. “Bea?”
I open again, and the words geyser out. “Will is naked in my shower right now and I need you to talk me out of going in there, ripping off all my clothes, and screwing him twelve ways from Saturday because I’m totally, completely, crazily in love with him. I am! I love him so much I can’t think straight. I think I have been for months, and now that I know it, I’m scared I’ll blurt it out and he’ll freak or something even though I’m pretty sure he feels the same way, but he could have been lying to Connor to save me, but I don’t think so because he choked him for talking dirty to me. And he threatened a vampire/werewolf war if Connor tried anything, b
ut he also said I literally drive him crazy and then there’s the werewolf thing and the Oliver thing and the dead wife thing but right now I don’t care because I love him and he didn’t have a shirt on this morning and I almost died on the spot and now I have to spend the day with him pretending to be a couple in case Connor is watching so there’s going to be touching and I don’t know if I can control myself. And I have no idea what to do. Help me.” I take a deep breath to make up for the fact I haven’t had one in thirty seconds.
“Okay,” April says, “I didn’t understand a word you said except naked in shower, I love him, choked, and no shirt. Start from the beginning.” I rehash the whole night. Everything. Connor, Steven, the whole shebang. She doesn’t say a word until I’m done. “Holy shit.”
“I know! Right? What the heck am I going to do?”
“Are you nuts? Follow your instincts. Go in there and stuff your tongue down his throat. I can’t believe—”
The shower shuts off, and I turn into a living statue. “Shut up,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“I gotta go,” I whisper. “He’s out of the shower. He might be able to hear us. Call you later.”
I shut off the phone and quietly tip-toe back to my room. I close the door as the bathroom door opens. Yes, I know I’m acting like a paranoid dork, but I don’t even blink until I hear Brian’s door shut. I flip on the radio and carefully choose my outfit for the day. Dark blue jeans, dark purple long-sleeved undershirt, and black Blue Oyster Cult girl-cut T-shirt. Casual, warm, and covers as much as is possible without wearing a burka. As I’m putting my hair into a high ponytail, there’s a knock on the front door.
Will and I both step out of our rooms in unison. His hair is wet from the shower but sadly he’s dressed. Gray cargo pants and loose green sweater. “You expecting someone?” he asks, all business.
I shrug and walk to the door with him just a few paces behind, my ever-present shadow. I peek out the hole. It’s not an assassin. It’s someone worse. “April,” I mutter. This is going to suck so bad.
She stands on the porch all smiles, as if she’s not here to make my life a living heck. “Hi! How are you? I was worried!”
Worried she wouldn’t get to meet Will. “I’ll bet you were.”
Ignoring my snideness, she pecks my cheek and steps in. Her smile reaches both the east and west coasts when her eyes lock on Will. “Well, hello,” she purrs.
“Will, April; April, Will.”
She holds out her hand, which he shakes. “Nice to finally meet you,” he says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Ditto. I feel like we’re practically family. Though the pictures she sent don’t do you justice. Are all werewolves as gorgeous as you, because if they are … ” She clicks her tongue. “I might just start howling at the moon.”
“You’re married,” I remind her.
“I’m not that married.”
Will’s face becomes as red as a Santa suit.
“You’ll have to forgive my ex best friend. She forgets herself sometimes.”
“It must be your animal magnetism,” she says to Will.
I have to get her the heck out of here before I die of embarrassment. “Okay, so you see I’m fine. All limbs in place. Time to go. I’m sure you have loads to do today what with the pageant tonight, so … ” I gesture to the door.
“Pageant?” Will asks.
“My son’s playing a snowflake in his school’s holiday pageant tonight. You should come. It’s at seven.”
“We’ll probably be gone by then,” Will says.
“But Bea said you have a private jet. You can leave when you want. You’re coming. There. Settled. You can leave afterwards. Or not, right?”
“We’ll play it by ear,” Will says.
“Oh goody,” she says clapping and squealing like a child. “I have the utmost faith in you.” Her head whips around to me. “Bea, walk me to my car?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She laces her arm around mine, locking them together, then practically drags me to the door. “It was nice to finally meet you, Will. I am more than sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. See you tonight!”
She yanks me out the door and shuts it. We walk to her car. “I am so going to kill you!” I say.
“Oh my flipping God! He looks like the Marlboro Man!”
I shush her. “He can hear you,” I whisper. “Shut up! Get in the car!”
We both climb into her minivan and shut the doors. I doubt he can hear but turn on the radio just in case. “Bea, you have to be out of your mind not to be riding that man like a bull every chance you get!”
“Eww! Graphic!”
“I am so jealous,” she screeches. “And he totally declared his undying love for you last night!”
“Yeah, after I stopped him from killing someone!”
“He was defending your honor!”
“He could have been acting. Or lying. And let’s not forget he’s been tres jerky to me for a long time.”
“And yet you are, and I quote, ‘totally, completely, crazily in love’ with him.”
“You know, the more I think about it, the more I realize it’s not love. It’s just, you know, infatuation and hormones.”
“Yeah, and I’m still a virgin,” she chuckles. “I called it months ago. You love him. I can see it clear as day. You’re practically glowing.”
“It’s just my new moisturizer.”
“Oh my God, you are hopeless!”
I rest my head on the dashboard. “I know. I suck at this stuff. And now I have to spend the whole day with him. Alone. Doing couple things like buying a Christmas tree and going to a school pageant.” I sit up. “Which I cannot believe you brought up.”
“I am including your future husband in our lives. Better he get used to us now so he knows what he’s getting into.”
“Don’t call him that. Please.” I groan and wince. “I should get back in there.”
“You can’t even be away from him for five minutes,” she teases. “It’s so love.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll see you tonight.” I peck her cheek and climb out. She blows me a kiss before driving off.
“ … and I wanted to say what a nice time I’ve had with you the past few nights,” is what I hear when I come back inside. Steven’s voice emanates from the answering machine while Will stares at it with a blank face. “The bowling, the club last night. I forgot how much fun you can be.” Will’s eyes leave the machine to appraise me.
I lunge for the phone. “Hello? Steven?”
“Hey.”
“Sorry. I was outside talking to April. What’s up?” I put my back to Will.
“Nothing. Just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
“Oh yeah. It must have been something I ate for dinner. I all but passed out when I got home.” Should I go to my bedroom? No, that’s rude and makes it seem like I have something to hide.
“Yeah, I felt out of it too,” he says. “Better now. So what are you up to today? I’m not on until late tonight. Maybe we can go to a movie or something.”
I swear I can fell Will’s eyes burrowing onto my back like a mole in the dirt. I’m sure he can hear Steven’s side of the conversation from here. I don’t dare look back. “Actually, I can’t. I have Christmas duty all day. We’re gonna hang some decorations, make cookies, the tree, usual stuff.”
“And tonight?”
“Manny’s pageant.”
“Right. Forgot about that. Nana Liz going with you?”
“No, she’s got her knitting club tonight.”
“Right. Well, maybe some other day. Before you go back.”
I wince. Oh, why the heck did he have to say that? “Yeah. Great. I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Talk to you soon. Bye.” He hangs up, and I do the same.
I turn around but Will’s gone. Vanished. Once again my mind goes to that annoying, girlie place where I have to overanalyze. Did he leave because he wan
ted to give me privacy? Or because he couldn’t stand me talking to the man I made out with? Okay, I so need to stop this. He left the room, and I need to interpret every step. I’ve never been this bad, not even in high school. I hate people like this. Okay, I’m done. I won’t make it through the day if I keep this up. My head will explode.
I finish getting ready, barely putting on makeup just because. I’d wire my jaw shut if I could, but instead toss a pack of gum in my purse. I’ll chew all day. If my mouth is preoccupied, I might be able to stop it from forming words. Worth a shot.
Will’s on the couch fiddling with his cell phone when I walk out. He glances at me as I move into the kitchen, but listens to his messages. I fix myself a bowl of Count Chocula and examine the back of his neck. “Wolfe, it’s Will. Please call me when you get this.” He slaps the phone shut.
“He’s probably at the beach,” I say, “or asleep. It’s a nice day out.”
“I need his report,” Will says, “and yours too.”
“Do we have to do it today? We can have one day off, right?”
“I suppose.”
“So, is there anything you want to see? To do?” Activities are good. If we’re busy with activities, there’s less talking involved.
“I have no idea,” he says, finally turning around. “Do you have anything planned?”
“Just getting the tree.”
“Oh.” From the quick smile I can tell he’s relieved. “The beach maybe?”
“Okay, so the beach, tree, decorate. Sounds good.”
“What about the pageant?” he asks.
“You really don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t mind. We weren’t planning on leaving until the night anyway.”
“Oh. Great.” I put the half-eaten bowl in the sink. “I’ll get my purse, and we can get going.”
Compared to yesterday, today is beautiful. It’s in the low sixties with puffy clouds against the blue sky. There are no strange cars on the street either. I climb into the driver’s seat of my rental with the silent Will beside me. Off we go.
We’re both quiet at first with him watching the scenery and me furiously chewing gum. I turn on the radio. “Can’t Fight This Feeling” by REO Speedwagon starts. I switch it but it’s Etta James’s “At Last.” Will and I glance quickly at each other then look away in sync. I find a Christmas station before the car explodes from our nervous energy. “Blue Christmas,” no subtext there.
Death Takes a Holiday Page 19