Cold Feet (Empathy in the PPNW Book 3)

by Olivia R. Burton

  “About how he’s stalking your best friend?”

  “Not stalking!” Izzy insisted from the kitchen, before one of my cabinets slammed and I heard the telltale crinkling of a Twinkie wrapper. Chloe grabbed for me, shoving me back into my seat before I could get to my feet and rush in to tackle him to the ground. Fairy creature or not, I was willing to try to take him. He has half my width and I had rage on my side. Plus, even though he was her boyfriend, Chloe had known me first and would probably have my back if things got too heated.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Chloe said, a little thread of panic wrapping around my throat and tugging. I coughed at the strange feeling, worry eking its way in through my wall of blind offense and making me take a second look at her. She had my back, all right, but just not in the way I’d expected.

  “Why?” I asked warily.

  “He’s not human, remember?”

  “So? Mel’s not human and you’ve never stopped me from wailing on him.”

  “Mel’s—it’s not the same. Mel can’t really be hurt, not by you. Izzy and Mel aren’t the same. Mel sleeps his way through Tinder and howls at the moon. Izzy sees the future. Not always linearly, not always helpfully, but there’s a chance he’d know what you were about to do and instead of shoving him to the floor, you’d swing, miss, and fall on your face and break your nose or something. Just trust me. Let me explain.”

  “Yes, please explain why you’re cavorting with this creature that’s eating my food right now,” my voice got louder as my annoyance over my impotence grew, “behind me as if I can’t hear him going through an entire box—”

  “We got to talking,” Chloe said, the hard edge of her frustration jabbing me in the chest and cutting me off with a grunt. “And, I don’t know, we like each other, we enjoy the same things, and he’s fun. Izzy…” She trailed off, her lips tugging up as if she couldn’t help but smile. I felt soft and fluffy feelings puff up inside her, a mix of infatuation, lust, giddiness, and all the good stuff that goes into that glittery, wrapped package people call puppy love.

  Despite my previous feelings, I could tell I was getting sucked in, enjoying the cotton candy feel of crushing on someone. Chloe let out a tiny, overwhelmed sound that was almost a giggle, shook herself out of it, and then sat up straighter, clearly trying to get back on track.

  “Look, he’s a good guy. He’s a little strange, and I’m sorry about—well, not sorry he saved you from eating thousands of calories worth of tooth-rotting crap, but sorry you’re sad that you didn’t get to enjoy the treats you bought yourself. He’s not here to hurt us and he’s not gonna show up randomly and steal your food while you’re asleep anymore, either. I got him to promise to steer clear of your candy drawer at work, okay? Just be nice, okay?”

  “Steer clear completely? Not even dip a finger in there and steal an M&M?”

  “Yes, he’ll keep all ten fingers out of the drawer and off your M&Ms.”

  “And off my Skittles! And licorice. And chocolate bars. And—”

  “Yes, he gets it, Gwen. And, god, I’m going to have to clean out your office soon. You’ve got more stashed around that place than I realized.”

  “No,” I argued, suddenly worried I’d given away too many of my secrets. Chloe shook her head and I could tell by her expression I was gonna have to beat her to work Monday and eat the incriminating evidence. A subject change was needed before I accidentally revealed I’d lost a few packets of gummy bears in the records room, too. “So…that’s it then? He’s just here? For good?”

  “I don’t know about ‘for good,’ it’s not like we’re getting married or something. But yes, he’ll be around more. Well, maybe not more. Apparently he’s been around a lot, we just haven’t seen him.”

  “I don’t even want to know what that means.”

  “You’re out of Twinkies!” Izzy announced as if personally offended, stepping up next to the coffee table and shaking the empty carton like it needed to be punished. “You telling her about the office cat? She looks mad.”

  “Office cat?” I demanded. Chloe winced, whining out a low groan.

  “I was gonna ease her into that one.”

  “I can’t…I can’t,” I said, settling on the very general statement of just not being able to. I couldn’t handle the idea of Izzy, or Chloe in a relationship, or the fact that I’d slept with Mel, or the idea that I was out of Twinkies, or anything else that had happened that week. I just wanted to curl up under the covers and sleep for a week. “I can’t.”

  ##

  Late that evening, as I was settling in with Sonny for some trashy television, a box of cheesy crackers, and way more soda than any one person should have in a sitting, I heard a knock at the door. I sighed, glaring heartily from my place on the couch and trying to reach out to see who or what had come to bother me. My empathy found nothing there, but Nothing knocked again. I wanted to ignore it, to leave whatever nutty night-solicitor was there to bother me be, but usually there isn’t a knock at my door from something without any emotions, so I figured I should probably check before it got angry and hulked through the wall or wiggled its nose and turned me into a newt.

  Only non-humans have no emotions and I was spending a lot of time, lately, getting schooled in the fact that it was a bad idea to anger them.

  “One sec,” I yelled toward Nothing, considering that maybe I should invest in a baseball bat or something to keep handy just for safe-keeping. “Come on Sonny, back in your cage for a bit.” Sonny didn’t complain as I tucked him in, for which I was glad. I didn’t know if the bars of his cage would keep him safe if whatever was the door wanted to hurt us rather than sell us on some preternatural form of the Watchtower, but hopefully it’d be the latter.

  Mel stood outside, three of Sarah’s pastry containers in his arms. Despite the fact that he was holding chocolate, my mood took a deep dive south. Sure, he was bringing the cupcakes back, but he’d taken them in the first place, thoughtlessly leaving them in the backseat and driving off as if I wasn’t owed payment for the emotional turmoil of learning I’d spent a week with some cannibal creature that might have been planning to feed me to its spider girlfriend.

  The expression on his face matched the one on mine and we squared off for a bit before I realized that my taste buds had not gotten the frustrated-with-Mel memo. My mouth was already watering at the idea of fluffy chocolate orgasms touching my tongue. Mel spoke before I could demand he hand them over.

  “Did you tell Chloe I’m bad in bed?” he asked, pushing past me.

  “Um?” I responded, still staring outside at empty air. When had they talked? Why had she told him? Were the cupcakes in peril? I shut the door, whirling around and rushing into the kitchen after him. This could be a delicate situation, I told myself. Say the wrong thing and the chocolate could pay for it.

  “I…don’t really remember what I said.” I tried for a grin, easing forward and reaching out toward the cakes. Mel glared me down, leaned slightly away to keep me outside taking distance.

  “Well, what do you remember?”

  “I…remember you saved my life! And how I’m super grateful! Grateful enough to take those heavy treats off your hands. Buddy? Pal? Here, let me just—”

  Mel let out a sigh, shaking his head at my one-track mind, and moved to the far end of the kitchen, sliding the stack of containers on the counter and pushing them up against the wall as if worried they might jump to the floor if left too close to the edge.

  I watched him go, noticed that he’d grown out the hair on his arms again. Most of the trip with his family he’d been pretty hairless, maybe not wanting to go through the effort of growing body hair—other than to ruin his chances with Officer Tina, of course—if he was just going to lose it again when he changed. I tried to remember if Julian had done the same while I was there, and realized I hadn’t really noticed him, except for the one time I’d spent way too much time noticing him and had then felt guilty about it.

  “What’s with the Grizzly Ada
ms arm hair?” I asked, intent on getting my mind off the mental image of Mel’s married brother’s happy trail.

  Mel glanced down, turning hid arms over as if he hadn’t seen them before. When he looked back up at me, his gaze stuck to my arm, lingering on my bandages again before he met my eyes. A beat passed, before he gave me a sleazy grin, his face just a little too tense for it to be entirely legitimate.

  “Had a date. A few of ‘em actually. Nothing like being back in the game after a long hiatus.”

  I wrinkled my nose, hoping he didn’t try to elaborate. Instead, he kept our eye content intently, lifting both arms to flex unsubtly in front of his chest like a pro-wrestler trying to intimidate his opponent by ripping open his shirt with just the force of his pecs. Unable to take him seriously, I laughed, snorting at how ridiculous he looked. Mel chuckled, dropping his arms to his side and relaxing. We watched each other for a moment and it actually kind of felt like a legitimate friendship. I’d worried maybe it would have been like Vegas and what happened on Harstine would stay on Harstine, but he and I were still joking, still teasing, and still friends. Sex with Mel had been a dismal affair, but at least it had its perks.

  “Did you seriously just show up to bitch about the fact that I didn’t enjoy having sex with you?” I asked after a moment. He rolled his eyes.

  “I came to set the record straight. I am not bad at sex.”

  “You were with me.”

  “Lies. Lies and treachery. You want me to call Karen, Candace, and Rina? They have the experience fresh in their minds. Fresh,” Mel said, and I got the feeling that he meant it so literally that I probably didn’t want to get too close. “They’ll explain you’re just confused.”

  I took a deliberate step back, holding my hands up like I was warding him off. “I’m not confused. You seemed to enjoy yourself, so good for you. But I was underwhelmed.”

  “No one is underwhelmed when they’re under Mel. Did you consider that maybe it’s your fault?”

  “Nope.”

  Mel’s eyes went to slits and he stepped forward, pressing into my personal space. It only occurred to me as he stepped close—and didn’t smell of some other woman’s perfume or musk, thank god—that he had to have been wearing Merrin’s necklace. I’d gotten so used to not feeling him that I hadn’t even noticed when he’d shown up and it hadn’t been pure torture.

  “At least give me a chance to prove how wrong you are.”

  I shook my head, pressing my hand firmly against his chest, barely noticing that he took my mild push as an order and stepped back.

  “I’m not having sex with you,” I said. Mel looked me over disapprovingly, shaking his head.

  “Well, no, I didn’t mean now. You look terrible. And from the smell of it, you haven’t showered since last night. You still smell like every one of the puppies.”

  Ignoring his assessment of my scent, I looked down at my stained pants and comfortable shirt that had seen its share of disastrous hair dye experiments. I wasn’t wearing makeup and my hair was obviously still thin in the back. I hadn’t brushed it after my nap in the car, so it was probably either flat or excessively frizzy. I ran a tongue along my gums, found a chunk of cracker tucked between two of my teeth.

  “I look fine,” I insisted, though my tone couldn’t quite match the confidence of my words. Mel clucked his tongue, shook his head.

  “And you thought I was the one who couldn’t tell reality from fantasy.” Abruptly, he stepped around me, brushing his bare arm against mine. I turned, watched him hit the door at a stride. As he grabbed the handle and pulled it open, he turned to face me.

  “I’m telling you, though. One day, you’ll come to me, begging me give you another shot.”

  “Won’t happen.”

  “No, no, hear me out. I know these things. I’m an expert on women.”

  I barked out a laugh.

  “One day, you’ll be hard up, and I’ll be there—also hard up.” He shot me a single finger-gun and then reached up to his neck. “In the meantime, take this back.”

  I yelped as the necklace slid over his head, as the magic holding his emotions in check fell away. Terror filled my chest as I expected to feel a week’s worth of feelings bowl me over. Lust, annoyance, hunger and amusement rushed through me, swirled around my organs, scalded my skin, but didn’t fry my brain or outright kill me.

  It took me a moment to really come to grips with, but I didn’t faint or drop into a coma. Cracking open an eye that I hadn’t realized I closed, I caught his eye, gleeful even in the face of his thorny emotions groping at me from the door.

  “I didn’t pass out!” I announced, excited. Mel draped the necklace over the back of my chair, smarmy grin plastered across his sculpted face.

  “Yeah, I only put it on as I pulled up to the curb. I was just messing with you.” On a wink, he yanked the door shut, leaving me to curse his name.

  Thank you so much for reading Cold Feet, the third book in the Empathy in the Preternatural Pacific Northwest series! I hope you liked it, and hope you take some time to give a quick review on Goodreads or Amazon. If you want more Gwen or more PPNW you can check out all my writing at my website: OliviaRBurton.com. You can also say hi or follow me on Twitter: @OliviaRBurton

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Olivia is a vegan thirty-something living just outside of Seattle with a clowder of cats and a stink of litter boxes. She enjoys vexing her kitties, cooking, watching action movies, and making up collective nouns for things that don’t already have them (like a “stink of litter boxes”).

  You can find her and all information about her different series at OliviaRBurton.com.