by S. E. Babin
Kill me now.
But Hank was entitled to be on a date. I was not entitled to be jealous. He'd told me more than once I wasn't his type. It was about time I listened to him.
Pepper and I were on our second margarita and third bowl of chips when we finally burst out into hysterical laughter over Hank and Charity. She had a laugh like I'd imagine a Disney mouse would, high pitched and chittering. But the latter part of her laugh sounded like she was chomping on wood while having an asthma attack. Pepper first pointed it out to me and we'd stared at each other like we'd both gotten the best Christmas presents ever. But we kept our mouth shut because we were too close to actively talk about it without possibly being heard.
So we kept drinking and every sip of margarita that went down made it harder and harder for us to stop listening.
I knew for a fact that Hank wasn't as funny as Charity was making him out to be. Or, if he was, he never showed that side to me. Figured, he was on a date with her. Why would he waste all of his good jokes on me?
But after a particularly rowdy joke, I guessed, Charity was laughing so hard she sounded like a dying animal. Pepper and I both pressed our lips together, stared at each other with wide eyes, and did our best not to make a sound. It lasted for about ten seconds. Pepper's nostrils started flaring and her cheeks flared out like she was having an allergic reaction.
I broke first.
We laughed so hard tears streamed from our face, but we were trying to keep it quiet, which made it worse. On top of that, I accidentally made eye contact with Hank. His eyes were sparkling with mirth which made me laugh even harder.
Charity turned around and greeted us with a bright smile. She was a pretty girl, but I suspected I knew why she was still single. That laugh could stop a train. "Oh my goodness," she declared. "Aren't you two having a grand time?" She was blonde, petite, and had pretty blue eyes ringed with long black lashes. Her nose turned up at the end and her ears were perfect and flat to her head. From what I could tell, Charity was wearing a strappy dress designed to show off her tan shoulders and decolletage.
"It's Pepper," I said, wheezing with laughter. "She's hilarious."
Pepper snorted with laughter and did her best to wipe her eyes. "Helen is correct. It's true. I am hilarious."
"Well, maybe we should sit with you!" she declared.
My eyes widened. I threw a frantic look at Hank who looked just as weirded out as I did. "Oh no," I said and tried not to wince as I realized how strangled I sounded. "You're on a date. Please continue." I waved my hand dismissively.
Pepper's eyes narrowed. "But we have room over here if you want to!"
No, I mouthed to Pepper who gave me a wicked little grin.
"What do you say, Hank? Want to join your friends?"
I gave him a frantic little headshake. He opened his mouth, shut it, and finally sighed. "Sure."
Nooooooooo. If I could have murdered him with that look I would have. I went to move over to Pepper's side, but Charity with the wood chomper laugh scooted right in next to her, forcing Hank to scoot in next to me. The booth wasn't all that big and our thighs were melded together. The warmth of him went right through my jeans. I was going to kill him, then I was going to kill Pepper. And then I was going to kill them both again for good measure.
"Long time, no see," she said to Pepper.
“I haven’t been reading much,” Pepper admitted. “Mostly I just meddle in other people’s lives.”
“Oh,” Charity said and gave Pepper a funny look which my friend returned with an innocent smile.
“Have you ordered yet?” Hank asked after he cleared his throat in warning.
I shook my head. “Just a few minutes ago. They cleared out our appetizer.”
"The service is really slow here."
Yes, I thought, and our conversation is really awkward. "I can flag him down if you want to put your order in." I saw our waiter and waved both of my hands in the air. The faster he ordered, the faster he could eat, the faster we could get out of this terrifyingly awkward situation.
When he finally made it over and Hank and Charity ordered, the silence was deafening. Pepper finally spoke. "So, Hank, I heard you created a pretty cool landscape for Helen."
Hank brushed off the compliment. "It's sustainable and will come back year after year. I made it as low maintenance as I could get it."
"So you like low maintenance, Hank?" Pepper said.
I shut my eyes and silently counted to ten.
"I do," Hank said through gritted teeth. "I also like silent things."
I snorted out a laugh. "Lawnmowers must be torture for you."
"Among other things," he said.
The area between Charity's brow wrinkled. "So how do you know Hank, Helen?"
"I've known him for awhile. I come into his nursery a lot. I just hired him to do a project for me. How about you?"
Charity beamed and I felt Hank squirm a little bit. He was uncomfortable.
Good.
"He comes in the library every so often. I never can find the books he wants, but I help scan them out!"
"Oh, that's wonderful," I said weakly. "How long have you been dating?" I was being nosey.
Charity's perfect little cheeks pinkened. "Oh. Umm, a few months, I guess."
I choked on a sip of my margarita. "Oh, really? Wow!" I nudged Hank with an elbow. "That's wonderful! Things must be going really well."
I hissed in pain as something pinched my thigh. I looked down and Hank's hand was on my leg. I forced a grin. "Sorry about that. I hurt my ankle the other day and I twinged it wrong."
Pepper was having so much fun she looked high. She wore a crazy smile and her eyes were glazed. Also, maybe that had a little bit to do with the margaritas too.
I smacked Hank's hand off my leg.
Charity nodded. "They are! Hank is wonderful. He's coming to meet my parents in a few weeks."
Hank stiffened beside me. I think he was surprised by this. Served him right.
"Helen had a surprise visit from the Deadication Dating Agency," Hank announced.
I reached over and pinched right on the inside of his thigh, perilously close to his jingle bells. He hissed in pain and clapped my hand down.
Right on his crotch.
Color rose high on my cheeks.
But that wasn't the only thing that was rising.
So. Huh. Hank was a big ol' liar. My hair color based upon the woman sitting right in front of me was just fine. And his reaction to my hand was also just fine.
Two could play that game. I gently squeezed.
Hank hissed.
But it wasn't in pain.
"Are you okay?" I asked innocently.
"Fine," he said. "Just fine."
Charity's brows drew together in concern. "Was it the appetizer? Is your stomach okay?"
Hank forced a laugh. I stroked the length of him through his pants. He pressed his lips together. I noticed he had not moved his hand from over mine.
"I'm fine. Just getting really hungry." Hank's hand ventured over and onto the top of my thigh.
We had to stop.
This was getting out of hand. We were in a public restaurant for crying out loud.
"Me, too," Charity said. "I feel like I've been hungry for days." She bent her head to look at her phone. Perfect date behavior.
Hank's gaze met mine. "Me too," he said.
We both knew he wasn't talking about the food.
Woo boy.
Thankfully the waiter chose that moment to deliver the third round of drinks I'd placed before Charity had crashed our party. Hank loosened his hand from mine and I regretfully pulled away. I needed to focus on anything but what just happened. I took a long pull of my margarita and allowed the frigid drink to replace some of the heat I'd just experienced.
"This dating agency," Charity asked, coming back around to our conversation before we got so sidetracked, "they find you your soul mate? I've heard of them but I'm pretty new here."
I nodded. "Supposedly. They work in secret. It's...odd. They contact you and from what everyone tells me things just sort of fall into place. Though not always perfectly at first."
She frowned. Even that was pretty. "What if you don't like each other?"
Hank was staring at me.
"Then I can only assume you aren't soul mates." I took another long drink. "I received a puppy and a letter."
"A puppy?" she practically squealed.
"I named her Margo. She's pretty amazing."
"But why did they give you a puppy?"
I had no idea. "Maybe they thought I needed one? Maybe it was part of the package? Even if I don't find my soulmate, I'm keeping her." And I was. Margo had annoyingly wormed her way into my heart.
"Have you met him yet?"
Hank's eyes were burning a hole in the side of my face. "Yes, I haven't heard this part. Have you met him?"
I bared my teeth in a grin. "I'm not sure. Today I had a strange visit from a handsome vampire. He showed up again tonight and we had coffee."
Hank stiffened beside me. "He did?" he asked and I could practically hear his teeth grind.
Didn't like blondes, my butt.
"He did. He asked me out this weekend, but I haven't decided."
Charity clapped her hands together. "You should go!"
Pepper was giving me an appraising look. "We didn't get the chance to chat about that. Who was it?"
"His name is Lucien Nightingale."
Pepper's eyebrows went up. "Really? He's a handsome devil."
"He sure is. Margo caught him out back and she cornered him."
"What was he doing out there?" Hank practically had steam rolling from his ears.
"It's a long story, but I invited him in. He stayed for a little while and we chatted." I leaned forward. "He said I was ravishing."
Pepper and Charity grinned and high fived me.
Hank sat like a stone in his seat.
We were interrupted by the waiter, thank goodness. He set our plates out efficiently. I thanked him for getting everything at the same time and he gave me a baleful stare and left. He was just full of personality. Perhaps we should have ordered before we had all of that to drink. Speaking of which, my head was starting to feel pleasantly fuzzy now. I tucked into my fajitas and we finally had five minutes of blissful silence.
This night would go down as one of the most awkward dinners I'd ever had.
Thirty minutes later, Charity excused herself. Pepper ran after her and asked if she could get a ride. "Pepper," I stage whispered, "I am going to KILL you!" She gave me a cheery wave and hopped into the car with Hank's date. And Charity. Was she really that naive? Good gracious.
So that was how Hank and I ended up standing in the parking lot together. Alone. And me without a ride.
I sighed. "I can call a cab," I said. Most people were nocturnal around here so the cab service was really good.
"Nonsense," Hank said. "I can give you a ride. Come on."
We walked in silence to his truck. He held open the door for me and I hopped in. When he came around and slid in the vehicle, I turned to him. "Should we talk about that?"
Hank grunted and started the car.
"You like blondes," I said. "You like them a lot."
"I don't like them a lot," he growled.
"You like Charity." I hated the way I sounded. A little sad. A little lost. A little drunk.
Hank let out an aggrieved sigh. "Perhaps we should discuss this when you aren't under the influence of about sixty ounces of margarita?"
"Pssssh. No way that was sixty ounces."
"Give or take five." Hank pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.
"You didn't answer my question."
"I believe I did," he retorted.
"You like Charity."
"That wasn't a question, Helen."
"Well, do you?"
Hank looked like he was chewing on nails. "Charity is nice," he finally allowed.
"That's all?"
He shook his head. "What are you asking me? In fact, why do you care?"
I jerked back. "Why do I care?"
"Yes! You barely gave me the time of day any time you walked into my nursery. You barely even looked at me!"
I blinked at him. "You didn't give me the time of day!" It was the best comeback I could think of through my fuzzy thoughts.
"I always tried to talk to you!"
My mouth worked like a fish out of water. "Are you kidding me? Telling me I can't pick out my own damn plants is not a conversation maker! And I don't look at anyone in this town because everyone hates me!" I gasped as soon as I said it.
Hank slowed down and took a turn off onto a side road. There were no street lamps. No houses, no stores. Just us and the dash lights. He put it into park.
"Explain," he gritted out.
I leaned my head back against the seat. "No."
Hank turned off the vehicle. The only sound was the ticking of the engine and our breath. "Explain why you think people hate you."
"I'd rather talk about why you're grumpy."
"I'll tell you why I'm grumpy if you tell me why you think people hate you."
I looked at him sideways. "Really?"
"Cross my heart."
"They hate me because they're scared of me."
Silence fell in the cab of the truck.
"I find that a little hard to believe," Hank said. "Have you seen yourself? You're like a hundred pounds soaking wet and you have the face of a pissed off angel."
A smile pulled at the side of my mouth. "It's my power. Death scares people."
Hank rested his hands on the steering wheel. "Death is terrifying. But it's also natural. And it's something we work toward every day. Most of us anyway. Do you really feel like that, Helen?"
I nodded. "People cross the street trying to get away from me. They whisper about me behind my back." I sighed. "When I was a child they used to tease me about wanting to be friends with dead things."
Hank let out a soft breath.
"The truth is," I said, "the dead are easier to talk to. Easier to relate to. There's nothing they have to strive for anymore. Their burdens are cast aside. Their work is done. We spend so much of our lives working toward some unattainable goal that we forget to live." I rubbed my eyes and let out an embarrassed laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm a little bit toasted."
"More like quite hammered," Hank said. "But isn't that when our truths come out?"
"Tell me why you're so grumpy," I said, changing the subject.
"I'm not really grumpy."
I punched him on the arm. "You are. You're like that guy that screams at everyone to get off his lawn."
"I find people to be disappointing," he admitted after a long silence.
"Why?"
"They don't keep their promises. They cheat and lie and look the other way when people are hurting. Sometimes I find the world of the living to be a difficult place to live."
"That's...sad."
He smiled and reached over to hook his fingers through mine. "But there are a few people who make it worthwhile."
"If you say me, I'm going to blubber all over your truck. I'm an emotional drunk, Hank. Don't make it weird."
Hank chuckled, unclicked my seatbelt and pulled me over to him. He wrapped his arms around me and I leaned against his chest. "Do you think it's because you've been alive so long?" I asked him.
"Are you calling me old?"
"Ghouls live a long time. It's one of the first things we crazy necromancers learn."
His breath hitched against my ear. One of his fingers lazily stroked my hair. "No. It's because I've never been around good people. Until recently. I've hired some wonderful people in the nursery. I met you."
"What about Charity?"
Hank chuckled. "I need to talk to her. We haven't actually gone on four dates and there's no way in Hell I'm meeting her parents. I got tricked into one date. Then she invited me to something at the library. The th
ird time I got caught when the nursery guys invited me out for a beer and she was standing right there." He paused.
"So you have been on four dates then?"
"Crap."
"She seems nice enough."
"She's about as bright as a penny buried underneath a pound of sand."
"Ouch." I tried another tactic. "She's pretty."
"She's tolerable."
"She's tan."
"She uses a tanning lotion and has to be woefully low on vitamin D."
"Do ghouls even need vitamin d?"
I felt his shoulder rise and fall. "No idea, but I had to come up with something witty."
"Should we talk about our table pinching?"
Hank laughed. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I don't know. Maybe now is the best time because I hope not to remember this tomorrow."
Hank kept toying with my hair and it was causing a slow ache to build inside me. "You pinched me," I accused. "I'm going to bruise."
"You pinched me back in an even worse area."
I smiled against his chest. "You totally deserved it."
"But you didn't quit there, did you?"
"Only because you wouldn't move your hand."
Hank tilted my chin up. Our lips were perilously close. "Was that the only reason?"
I swallowed hard and shook my head slowly. "Having my hand right there made me realize you didn't mind blondes at all."
"Not blondes, Helen. You." Hank swept his lips across mine, a light feathery touch. I gasped as heat flooded me. He stilled, stared down at me, and placed his lips on mine, this time searching and hungry. His tongue flicked out to touch mine and I fisted his shirt in my hands. His head dipped down and his hand cupped the back of my neck as he plundered my lips. I shifted my body, flicked off his seatbelt, and adjusted myself until I was on top of him.
Hank never broke our kiss and I gasped against his mouth as his hands reached down and grasped my waist, pushing me down against the heat of him. I rocked my hips and caught his gasps with my mouth.
"Helen."
I groaned as his fingertips reached up to brush the tips of my breasts. "Hank, god."
The tapping of metal on glass broke us apart like two kids caught under the bleachers. I scrambled off him. Hank sat up, adjusted his shirt and rolled his window down.
Oh. My. God.