Better Off Dead : A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer Novel (Book One)
Page 38
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The next morning Lucy was yanked out of a perfectly lovely, if not erotic, dream about Gabriel… and the blond vampire Vin… awoken by her grandmother’s angry voice.
“Lucinda Marie Hart! Why is there the scent of a vampire on your dirty clothes?” She was holding the dress Lucy had been wearing the night before. Lucy silently thanked god that her grandmother hadn’t asked how she’d paid for the dress—but then she realized her grandmother was interrogating her about there being vampire scent on her clothes.
Gram wrinkled her nose and held the dress even farther away from her. “And werewolf?”
Oh crap! Lucy hadn’t devised a plan for getting through this. Her grandmother was going to kill her. And when gram told her mother, Lila was going to hit the roof. I’ll be grounded for eternity.
But you’re eighteen, a voice said. But just then something momentous dawned on her.
“Gram, how can you smell that on my clothes?”
Gram suddenly got this look on her face of complete shock, as if now she was the one in trouble. Yet just as abruptly her grandmother’s expression changed and the two women fixed each other with the same hard stare. For sixty long seconds they glared at each other.
Gram finally spoke.
“Your mother’s gone already, and Seth is gulping down his breakfast as we speak. So if you take a long shower,” she held the dirty clothing out from her as far as she could as she turned to leave, “then we can talk.”
Lucy just sat there on her bed, staring opened mouth at the open door to her room. What the hell? Then she gave herself a cursory sniff. Did she really just tell me I stink?