by Eve Langlais
Getting a ride with her always provided a great reminder to never let your medical or life insurance lapse.
As she drove us back to the city and my place—cutting people off and making aspersions on their origins when they dared glare in her direction—I complained for like the zillionth time that day. “I can’t believe they invited him for supper.”
“Hey, aren’t you the one always bitching dinner at your folks’ is so boring?”
“Did I complain? Turns out boring is good. Nothing better than a cheesy lasagna with garlic bread to make a Saturday night perfect.”
“Add in some hot abs made for dripping chocolate sauce over—”
“Or caramel with whipped cream,” I interjected with a hint of drool.
“—and I’d say you’ve got a new tradition I’d kill for.”
“But he’s a werewolf. A crazy one who believes in witches.”
“So what?”
“What do you mean, so what?”
“Why does his belief in sorcery make him crazy? What if he’s right? I mean, think of it. Years ago, everyone thought Lycans didn’t exist. Then poof. Turns out they’re real. Ditto for those tree-hugging wenches, mermaids, and fairies. What else have we thought was fantasy that actually exists? Who’s to say witches and other things from storybooks don’t exist too?”
“Next thing I know you’ll try and convince me vampires are roaming the earth,” I tittered, but damn it all if I didn’t picture Anthony and his alabaster skin when I said it.
As if the district attorney was a vampire. I’d seen the guy outside the courthouse in daylight. He didn’t ignite into a ball of fire—nope, his power over fire seemed to extend only to lighting my libido.
“Hey, you want to pretend you know everything, that’s your business. Me, I have an open mind.”
“And bedroom door,” I muttered cattily.
“Jealous? Awesome. Not my fault I have a better sex life than you.”
“My sex life is fine, thank you, or have you forgotten who I got it on with last night?”
“Ooh, one night. Fuck Mr. Werewolf after dinner tonight, and maybe I’ll be impressed.”
“You like him so much, you make a play for him,” I offered, and immediately wanted to take back the words.
I did not want Brenda sinking her perfectly manicured nails into my wolf. Yes, mine. It seemed my attraction to him had jealousy issues. I might not want him, but I wanted him enough not to share him. How confusing.
“I am not taking your man.”
“He’s not mine,” I answered automatically.
She snorted. “Says the girl who practically leapt over the table to rip the shirt off him and lick the sweat from his impeccable body. You might be able to fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. You want the wolf.”
“Do not.”
“Do too. I don’t know why you keep denying it.”
“Because I just had sex with one guy I dislike. How can I want sex with another?”
“Because you’re horny.”
“But I shouldn’t be.”
“Thinks you. Maybe your body is trying to tell you something.”
“Like what?”
“That you’ve been an uptight lawyer for too long, and it’s time you loosened up, spread your legs, and indulged in a little me-time for once.”
“You want me to turn into a slut?”
“Slut sounds so harsh. I prefer to think of it more as enjoying a harmonized body with a splash of selfish well-being.” Brenda made it sound eloquent.
Reality was sex could get sticky. “Oh, it involves a splash of something all right, usually jizz that is a pain to get out of my hair and sheets.”
Brenda snorted. “You make it sound gross.”
“No, it’s called being practical. What I want to know is why is everyone so obsessed with settling me down? You don’t have a full-time boyfriend and I don’t see anyone bugging you.”
“Because I’m at least trying to find Mr. Right. And, in some cases, right times two.”
“Boyfriends are so much work, though,” I whined.
“Most things are, but at least you’d have a man to provide you with steady sex.”
“I don’t mind the sex part. It’s the whole do you love me, let’s make babies, and hey, can you wash my clothes and make dinner part I despise.”
“So marry a rich old guy who already has kids, can afford to hire a maid, and just wants you for your body.”
“Again, I am not a prostitute.”
“I think you’re looking at this all wrong. Instead of viewing it with negative eyes, how about focusing a bit on the positive?”
“Such as?”
“Well, for one, you could do the naughty without a condom once you both get your clean bill of health certificates.”
I didn’t mention my booboo with Anthony. I didn’t need a lecture on the dangers of AIDS and STDs, which Brenda took very seriously.
“My vibrator is clean.”
She ignored my comparison. “You’d have someone to watch TV with after a day’s work.”
“You mean someone to put on hockey or football.”
“Not all guys force you to watch sports. Some do enjoy the same shows as you do.”
Okay, so maybe, for just one moment, I wondered what Pete and Anthony thought of Survivor, the new Bates Motel, and Game of Thrones. “As if a real man would watch The Carrie Diaries.”
“No one should watch The Carrie Diaries. Other positives…” Brenda swerved around someone daring to do the speed limit, and I grabbed my oh-shit handle. “Maybe you could find a guy who cooks so you wouldn’t have to eat so much takeout or frozen dinners.”
“Hey, I happen to like those.” I especially liked that the cardboard containers could go straight to the trash, leaving me a clean sink.
“They’re not healthy for you.”
“Say he does cook, would he do dishes too?”
“If not, there’s always dishwashers or paper plates.”
“I’d have to share my bed, closet, and give him some space in the bathroom. Not to mention, what if he leaves the seat up and I go to pee in the middle of the night and fall in the toilet?”
“Then I’ll visit you in jail once you kill him. Would you stop looking for flaws? Admit it. It might be nice.”
“I don’t know. Seems like an awful lot of commitment.”
“So you tell them upfront you’re not looking for a full-time thing, or even a permanent one, at this stage in your life. Just companionship.”
“Can’t I just have them over for sex?”
“Since when is that all you think of?” Brenda stopped at a red light—to my surprise—and eyed me. “I mean, what is up with you? Used to be you didn’t mind having a little testosterone in your life. Did Roger, the guy whose dick you should have let me rip off, hurt you that bad? He was a douchebag. A total asshat. A loser.”
“I know.” He was also a big fat cheater and emotional black hole. Just thinking of him made me want ice cream. A whole tub of it. But I couldn’t deny I’d gotten a lot of my negative attitude toward men after our breakup. Messy didn’t come close to describing it. “Maybe I’m having a midlife crisis.”
“You’re too young for a midlife crisis.”
“Then why do I hate the idea of dating while, at the same time, getting horny over every man I meet?”
“You are not wetting your panties with every man, just the really good-looking ones.”
“So I’m a selective slut.”
“Hey, at least you have good taste.”
“Let’s say I decide to try out your crazy plan and date.” Yeah, I said it with disgust. So sue me. “Which guy do I choose?”
“Which one do you like better?”
“I don’t know. Neither?”
“Liar.”
“Fine. I think they’re both hot.”
“Super hot and yet only one is meeting your parents.”
“So you think I should take the werewolf fo
r a test drive? What about Anthony?”
“What about him? I thought the plan was to never see him naked again.”
“It is.” Sob. Such a shame, especially since he looked so good naked, and even better, his nakedness did wonders for me.
“Then what’s stopping you from getting sweaty and wild with the wolf? Feel him out on being a between-the-sheets friend?”
Or against the wall. Or in the shower. So many places I wanted to feel him out in. “Nothing. I guess.”
“Maybe once you let your hormones have their way, you’ll go back to just being your regular bitchy self.”
A girl could hope. But, somehow, I just knew it wouldn’t be so simple.
5
Selecting something to wear for a casual dinner at my parents’ took more effort than it should have. Clothes went flying as I tried on outfit after outfit.
Too fancy.
Too slutty.
Too tight.
Not tight enough.
Pants or skirt? Easy access or not? Should the bra clasp be in the front or back? Skip the bra entirely?
The prospect of seeing Pete again and, more appalling, actually planning to have sex with him later to see if I could get this ungodly attraction out of my system, turned me into a frazzled mess. So when the knock came at the door, I was less than polite when I threw open the door with a barked, “What?”
The large bouquet of flowers initially covered the visitor. Once I finished sneezing, allergies being one of the delightful genetic traits my DNA gifted me, I managed through itchy, red eyes to see a perturbed Anthony peering at me.
“I guess a sorry for triggering an allergen attack is in order,” he sheepishly said.
For some reason, I found this outrageously amusing. I snickered, in between achoos, as I scrounged in my medicine cabinet for a remedy. A chug of good ol’ Benadryl and I mellowed enough that I didn’t sound as bitchy when I emerged from my bathroom and said to poor Anthony, who still stood in the hall outside my apartment, “What are you doing here?”
“I’d planned to surprise you with flowers and then ask you to dinner. Having failed at the first, I’m hopeful I can still convince you of the second.”
Ring. Ring. Hello? Is this Hell? I hear you’ve frozen over. Seriously, his offer surprised me that much.
“You’re asking me on a date?”
He nodded. Even more amazing, he seemed uncertain of himself. Mr. High and Mighty in the Courtroom shifted from foot to foot as he did something so mundane as ask me out for a bite. Was it any wonder I gaped at him, unable to answer?
“You seem surprised.”
“Because I am.”
“After Friday night, I thought…” He shrugged.
“Thought what?” I genuinely wanted to know because, given he’d left without a goodbye or a word, I’d thought what happened was an aberration. A one-time thing we would never repeat or speak about.
Ever.
Before I could find out what he thought, pigs took flight. Really they did. Or the earth stopped rotating. Or I was stuck in some kind of Matrix world where someone messed with reality because who happened to show up to make the moment even more fucked up?
Take one guess.
“Who’s he?”
That’s what Pete wanted to know. Me, I wanted to know who the heck had given him my address. Mom! I also wanted to know, why me?
Anthony whirled to face the werewolf, superfast, enough that I blinked and it was done. Like wow. His rapid speed didn’t compare, though, to the building storm as he and Pete faced off. I could almost touch the testosterone suddenly filling the room.
Ding. Ding. Round one. Was it wrong of me to wish they wore fewer clothes and that the sprinkler in the hall would shower them with baby oil?
“Do you know this man?” Anthony put an inflection on the word that imbued it with a disgust that eloquently related his thoughts.
“Kind of. He’s a client.” Nothing like having the guy I’d recently screwed meeting the guy I planned to screw. Did anyone know of a better word than “awkward” sung in a high pitch?
“Was a client,” Pete corrected. “Now I’m her escort for the evening.”
“You are?” I don’t know who sounded more surprised, me or Anthony, who echoed my words.
“I ran into your parents after the race and chitchatted for a bit. They mentioned your fondness for wine and since I don’t drink often, I offered to drive you to dinner at their place so you could have a few glasses.”
“You’re taking him to dinner with your parents?” Anthony whirled back and fixed me with an accusing, icy blue stare.
Why did I feel as if I’d done something wrong? Anthony acted as if he had a right to be jealous. Last I’d heard, a one-night stand didn’t give a guy the right to assume anything. Apparently, Anthony thought otherwise.
I would have set him straight on that score, but then I caught Pete’s smug smile.
“Not my idea. My mom and dads invited him, against my advice.” Ha, that wiped the grin off Pete’s face.
“I see.”
Judging by Anthony’s tight expression, he did, and didn’t like it. Later, I’d claim the devil made me do it. And he didn’t even have to bribe me with cookies. “Why don’t you join us? My mom always makes too much food.”
Their matching “What?” was too comical for words, but I didn’t enjoy it for long because before I could think of a way to extricate myself, I found myself sandwiched between the pair of them, in a pickup of all things, on my way to my parents’ in a simmering, angry silence, which I clung to more tenaciously than a bulldog with a bone.
The vehicle we were crammed in wasn’t my first choice. I would have preferred the dark sedan Anthony arrived in, but having the chauffeur in his liveried suit, watching my two unwanted suitors bicker on the sidewalk over who should get to take me, proved too much. I didn’t need an audience to my humiliation.
Since my parents invited him first, I told Pete I’d go with him. Anthony, not wanting to miss out, dismissed his driver and we smooshed ourselves into Pete’s truck.
It was the longest fifteen-minute drive of my life. The most titillating too. Big man to the right of me. Even bigger to the left, here I was, stuck in the middle of the ultimate male sandwich.
I could just imagine Brenda busting a gut when she saw us. Although, I’d place money on her exploding in jealousy.
My plan to have both guys stomp off in a fit having failed, I didn’t know what to do with the two men—Brenda would have said just do both of them. Nor could I understand their stubborn insistence on pursuing me.
Sure, I was cute, if a touch too tall, but I wasn’t the type of girl guys fought over. Yet, here I had two dominant men, each determined to get in my pants. Which, really titillated me more than it should have.
Faced with a rival for my body—because it certainly wasn’t because I’d shown them any affection—I wasn’t quite sure how to act or what to think. I did know that, unless I clearly favored one or the other, the rivalry would continue.
Despite my intention, or what I wanted, I’d become a prize. The rope in a tug of war. The treasure in a battle between two men.
Fucking Karma and her jokes.
And sue me if a teeny, tiny part of me didn’t enjoy it. I mean, hello, two guys were fighting over me. Show me a woman who’d never fantasized about it, and I’d prove her a liar.
When we pulled up to my parents’ place, I noted Brenda had already arrived, her monster truck parked at the curb just behind a smart car. Oh god, I hoped her blind date for the evening was the owner. Brenda did such a good job of mocking the eco friendly.
Before Pete could make it around the truck to the passenger side, Anthony had already helped me out, making a show of sliding me down his body. I enjoyed the friction, but his grin of triumph to the wolf? That got him a shot to the gut.
However, I didn’t appreciate Pete’s smirk when he saw me punishing Anthony. A stroke over Anthony’s injured area and an �
�oops” by me wiped the smile.
With a flounce—a girly move I didn’t know I was capable of— I left them on the curb as I went up the walkway to my parents’ house.
The three-bedroom bungalow sat on the outskirts of the city. The brick façade and gingerbread trim never failed to make me nostalgic as I recalled growing up here.
An only child, not for lack of my parents trying, I’d enjoyed a normal childhood. Loved by my mom and two dads, I did well in school, had enough friends, didn’t get into trouble.
You’d think having grown up in such a well-adjusted environment I’d have turned out less of a bitch. But the opposite happened. Having lived the cookie-cutter dream, I think a part of me yearned for something more. Something less comfortable and more exciting.
And dating a werewolf would fit the bill. My snide subconscious couldn’t help pointing that out. But I couldn’t help but wonder if that was my ignorance speaking.
Lycans claimed they were like everyone else, just hairier. I guess I’d find out if the evening went as planned, which seemed less and less likely, given Anthony seemed determined to dog Pete’s every step.
Hmm. Come to think of it, wasn’t my current dilemma a form of the excitement I claimed to want? Did it get any more wild and chaotic than this? Pitting a rich DA against a werewolf certainly wasn’t safe, or sane.
No matter how the evening ended, I did know that I remained far from ready to settle down in the ‘burbs with a picket fence. I’d possibly never be. And why was I even thinking about this right now?
Just because I’d brought two men with me to meet my folks didn’t mean I was ready to walk down the aisle and pick out china patterns.
The direction of my thoughts made me hope my dads had restocked the liquor cabinet. I needed wine, preferably served via an inserted IV.
Bracing myself for the upcoming disaster of an evening, I entered my childhood home with a male hand on my upper and lower back. Not my idea. The vying men caught up to me before I could get inside and sit down.