The Accidental Human

by Dakota Cassidy

  He chewed on that statement for a minute. “Nope. I guess there isn’t.”

  “Then I think we’ve hit a wall. You can be whatever you want to be as long as you keep the numbers you’ve been keeping while I’m still your regional rep. Vampire, ghost, werewolf, ballerina. It’s all the same to me.”

  He had the audacity to grin and chuck her under the chin. “So now I’m just a number?”

  She threw on the hat she wore often when Nina and Marty sparred. Her hard-ass hat. She had to if she hoped to come off sounding even remotely like someone’s fuck buddy. “Um, stop me if my memory’s failed me, but wasn’t it you who said, and I quote, ‘I shouldn’t get involved. Let’s just see what happens’ after our mattress stomp last night?”

  “Nope. I said I shouldn’t get involved, yet here I was, and then I said let’s just see what happens. I didn’t say a thing about a mattress,” he added smartly, giving her another cocky grin that made the deep grooves on either side of his mouth stand out.

  “Right. So you could get me into bed. Now I remember. Sorry.” Oh, she was all about the cold and callous. That these words were even coming from her mouth was a testament to how afraid she was to get any closer to Heath than she was at this moment. This wasn’t very Wanda-ish. She didn’t do noncommittal sex, and she totally sucked at dissing anyone, but if she hoped to maintain a careful distance from Heath and his fabulousness, his incredible charisma, she had to.

  Heath crossed his arms over his chest. “Uh, no, Wanda. That wasn’t it at all. If you’ll recall, you were the one who just moments ago was giving me the ‘this is just sex’ speech. I wasn’t the only one who said they shouldn’t get involved.”

  “Which must have made it that much easier for your conscience. It meant you didn’t have to worry about any pressure from me for sticky stuff like relationships and commitment and all the other emotionally draining crap clingy females seem to want these days.” Who the fuck was she? Spouting stuff she’d read in Cosmo like she lived it. She loved emotionally draining crap . . . she lived for it—breathed it.

  That smile wasn’t leaving his face. It’d begun to reek smug. “While that was true when we first met, it doesn’t mean that’s how I feel now—even after the sticky stuff. I didn’t want to get involved with anyone because of the situation I’m in, but my situation is improving.You’re well aware I just collected a fairly decent paycheck from Bobbie-Sue, and Arch and I found an apartment today, and I got a cell phone. So consider my mind changed.” His look was pleased.

  Her chest tightened, as did her hands on the sheets. “Well, nothing’s changed for me. I still don’t want to get involved beyond . . . this . . .” Those words—so simple, so direct—left her mouth because they had to, not because she meant them. If time weren’t a factor, she’d beat off color wheel whores for miles with her high heels just to spend all of it with Heath—to have the time to find out if they could have something more than a passing fling.

  “Okay,” he said, smiling and rising from the bed to throw on his jeans.

  Tears stung her eyes. He’d leave now because she’d treated him like so much meat. And it was nothing less than she deserved. But you got what you wanted, didn’t you, Wanda? A nice toss in the sack with a few eyeball-rolling orgasms to top it off. You’re officially a bitch. Good on you.

  Heath threw her bathrobe at her. “Put that on. I can’t promise I won’t jump those pretty bones of yours if you eat hot dogs naked.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” he said, grinning with that cocky half tilt to it. “Naked and hot dogs just won’t work,” he said over his shoulder on his way out of the bedroom.

  Wanda slid to the end of the bed. She should be tweaked he hadn’t up and left. That’s what any woman who really just wanted to keep things uninvolved would be, but instead she found herself smiling, too.

  Stupidly—from ear to ear.

  Heath wasn’t leaving. He was in her kitchen preparing to cook hot dogs.

  With chili.

  The relief of that left her shaking and weak. However, she shouldn’t be relieved—she should want him gone, just like all good fuck buddies would when the naughty was over.Yet here she was—glad he was still around.

  Maybe he was just being nice . . .

  He had just confessed to once being a playa—he clearly understood the uninvolved game far better than she ever could. But did men who agreed to be uninvolved stick around after the boffing was over to cook hot dogs? And, if she was going to keep this a sex-only kind of thing, why was it making her batshit that he hadn’t protested when she’d laid the rules of the game on the table?

  She should just make him go whether he cooperated or not. It was selfish of her not to push the issue.

  So here she was not pushing, and it didn’t soothe her conscience one itsy-bitsy bit that she’d been as honest as she possibly could be with him, and he was still here.

  And he was still in the kitchen.

  And she was still smiling.

  CHAPTER 13

  “So Wanda doesn’t want to get”—Heath swiped his fingers in the air to make quotation marks—“involved. I got the ‘let’s keep this just about the sex’ speech.”

  Arch’s sagging jaw quivered when he chuckled. “Bully for you, sir.”

  “No. Not bully for me,” Heath said, sticking a fork into the potpie he’d pulled from the oven in their new apartment to see if the crust was done.

  “Isn’t that exactly how you like your women, Heathcliff—with no involvements? I’d daresay you should be jumping up and down.”

  “Not this time, Arch.”

  “Has there ever been a different kind of time?”

  His smile was rueful. “No. I guess there hasn’t. Our lifestyle didn’t really allow for it, though.”

  Arch shook a gnarled, wrinkled finger at him in admonishment. “Ahhh, no, young Heathcliff. ’Twas your lifestyle that didn’t allow for it.There wasn’t any reason you couldn’t have had a committed relationship with another vampire—you simply chose not to.”

  His grin was purposefully sheepish. “All right. That’s true. I wasn’t ever interested enough for anything serious, but getting involved with anyone other than a vampire when I was one, too, just didn’t work for me. I’d live forever, and they wouldn’t. I did take that into consideration, you know. However, I just never met the right vampire, and we all know I only had so many years to do that before I met my demise or became lunch for a dust cloth. It’s been freeing knowing I’m not tied to that kind of clan rule anymore. I like knowing there’s no time limit for me to find a mate—er, life partner. I just never expected to meet someone like Wanda so early in the human game. And, yes, Arch, you’re right, I didn’t exactly want anything permanent either.”

  “Precisely. And Miss Wanda has changed that, how?”

  Heath didn’t have words to explain why he found Wanda more attractive than any other woman he’d ever met. One minute he’d just thought she was hot, a little overzealous about color auras and Bobbie-Sue, the next he was peeling back layers of her personality like an onion, and liking her more the deeper he went. Getting much from her was like pulling teeth, even after he’d told her he was once a vampire. At first he’d thought she wouldn’t talk about even the most noncommittal things because he wouldn’t. Then he figured she was just in shock about what he’d told her. Now, the vestiges of his leftover vampirism told him something else.

  Heath leaned against the rusted metal sink. “I got nuthin’. She just is. She just works. She makes sense. She rambles when she’s nervous—her eyes light up when she talks about some volunteer work she does for cancer patients, and bingo night at the senior citizens’ home. Her smile makes me smile. The more she pushes me away, the closer she drags me in.” His shoulders heaved upward. “Does anyone ever have a logical explanation for what makes one woman stand out from all the rest?”

  Arch pulled the new dishtowels they’d purchased from the Wal-Mart bag, folding them into a neat stack on
the cracked kitchen counter. “Could it be that she’s elusive, sir? That she doesn’t want any of these involvements you speak of? Surely that would make her more of a challenge—more exciting to a man such as yourself who once enjoyed the bed sport like some men enjoy say, hunting or fishing.”

  Heath closed the oven door and crossed his arms over his chest, licking the fork while he thought. “Nope. That’s not it. I decided I wanted her before she told me no involvements.”

  Archibald threw a dramatic hand over his forehead. “How crushing to your ego, Heathcliff.” He cocked a gray eyebrow at Heath, clearly reminding him he’d said what Wanda’d said to him at least a hundred times. “Payback was a bitch” was the message. But Heath wasn’t buying it.

  “Nah, I’m not crushed.”

  Arch pursed his lips. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not crushed, because I know she doesn’t really mean the crap she spews.”

  Archibald snorted as he put the towels into a drawer that was crooked and misaligned. “Could you possibly be pulling the proverbial wool over your own eyes, young man?”

  “Nope. She wants more—I just can’t figure out what’s holding her back. But I will.”

  “And how will you do that if she won’t let you?”

  “I’ll wear her the fuck down, Arch. I’ll wear her down till she screams uncle.”

  “Oh, I’m ever so positive that will go over well, sir. By all means, wear away. As for me, I believe I’m going to make use of the shower. Our very own shower. Forgive my fit of unbelievable joy as I do—while you plot the winning of the fair Wanda, that is.” Arch grabbed the new package of underwear they’d bought at Wal-Mart, then looked over his shoulder directly at Heath. “I do have a question, if you don’t mind me prying.”

  As if Archibald had ever had a problem sticking his cultured nose where it didn’t belong. “Pry on, old man.”

  “Does the fair Wanda not wonder why you’re selling cosmetics and were, as early as two days ago, living in a homeless shelter?”

  “She does.”

  “And your explanation?”

  “I told her the truth.”

  “Everything?”

  Heath’s nod was sober. “Everything.”

  Archibald’s face distorted in horror. “And you wonder why she doesn’t want to become involved with you? I’m certain she’s in the process of notifying the local authorities as we speak. Authorities who will certainly come and haul you away to one of those seedy clinics where they drug you into a stupor and leave you to pickle in your own filth. How could you, Heathcliff?”

  Heath held up a hand to stave off Arch’s misgivings. “It wasn’t like that at all, Arch. In fact, I think I’m more freaked out because she wasn’t more freaked out.” And he was. Freaked out. He’d told her what most would consider a tale so wild he should be in the nuthouse—but she hadn’t batted an eye. Not one pretty hair on her head had moved. Even if her real deal was that she didn’t want to get involved—she still should have had a far bigger reaction than she’d offered. Which left him suspicious and intrigued at the same time.

  Arch’s voice took on a low tone, almost a whisper. “She didn’t freak out? Sir!” he hissed. “You told her we were once vampires, and she didn’t become the least distressed? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I have to believe she really is in this strictly for the bedroom sport. No sane woman would believe you—let alone accept such an outrageous explanation!”

  “Yep. Something’s just not right about that. But it isn’t because she’s only in it for the bedroom sport. I may not have most of my typical vampire qualities anymore, but I have some residual abilities—and I get a glimpse into her mind from time to time.You have them, too, Arch. You know exactly what I mean.”

  Arch’s nod was sharp. “I do indeed, and they’re fading fast. But need I remind you, the mind is a very tricky thing—you can convince yourself of almost anything if you want it badly enough. And it’s evident the fair Wanda is something you want enough to make yourself believe almost anything. Like the idea that she returns your affections in a deeper manner than the sport of the bed.” His smile was rueful. “I never thought I’d see the day, Heathcliff.The day you’d find yourself wishing for more than just the physical pleasures of a woman. I find myself misty over it, in fact. So misty I’m taking my leave and showering before I embarrass myself with my delight.” Arch took sure steps down the very short hallway to their antiquated shower without looking back.

  Heath glanced around at this place they’d now call home. Paint peeled from the walls, the cabinets in the kitchen were crooked and splintered, the floors were warped and rippled.

  It was a far cry from their former home filled with luxuries in Manalapan.

  But it was cheap—and it beat the shit out of a cot at the homeless shelter with a bunch of drunks and drug users.

  And it was a place to bring Wanda.

  Whether she wanted to be brought or not.

  He didn’t get what her bullshit speech about fuck buddies was about—it wasn’t how she really felt. Wanda didn’t have it in her to have that kind of relationship. He’d had plenty over his long lifetime with women who’d wanted the same—Wanda just wasn’t like those women.

  And he had no intention of letting her get away with trying to feed him that crap. He’d watched her struggle with her attempt at remaining detached last night, in word and thought, but her pretty face held a million different emotions, all emotions even someone who wasn’t a vampire could read if they tried hard enough.

  However, he did intend to find out what she was hiding from him, and why the hell she’d listened to what he’d told her without blinking an eye.

  Something was up.

  He was officially on the hunt for whatever that something was.

  “SO I need you to do me a favor, Nina.” Wanda sat across from Nina and Marty at their favorite diner, Hogan’s, pushing her fries into a pile.

  Nina gave her the eye. “First, stop playing with your food. If anyone could use a good meal, it’s you, and, Wanda, I swear to Christ, if you want me to go to that dumb-assed community production of Cats, I’ll just scream. I swear. I’m not up to hearing amateurs trash a perfectly good song like ‘Memories.’ And don’t give me that bullshit that the money’s for the senior citizens’ home.You secretly like it—it has nothing to do with building those horny toads a conjugal visit room, and you know it.”

  Wanda raised a hand, palm forward. “It’s nothing like that. Honest. No more Cats.”

  “So what’s up?” Marty inquired, tearing into her heaping plate of rare steak and eggs.

  Her look was secretive. “I need Nina to talk to Greg.”

  “About?”

  “About Heath.”

  Nina eyed her from across the diner’s scarred and yellowed Formica table. “What about him?”

  “I have something to tell you guys, but you have to promise you’ll look into it for me. Because you have all those vampiric connections and all.”

  “Could we get where we’re going with this, Wanda?” Nina’s look went from curious to suspicious.

  Wanda leaned into them and whispered, “He says he was once a vampire.”

  Nina laughed derisively. “Yeah, and I was once Mother Theresa.”

  Marty’s derisive snort made her choke on a piece of her steak. Nina thwacked her on the back.

  “Nina!” Wanda snapped her fingers together to quiet her. “I’m serious, and I need you to ask Greg about him. I mean, I figure he’d maybe know someone who could verify it, right?”

  Nina flicked the napkin Wanda held. “Wanda? He couldn’t have been a vampire because he’s a human. He’s off his rocker. Time for Heath to go, and I can take care of that.” Nina began to wiggle out of their booth, but Wanda grabbed her arm, pushing her back down into the red vinyl booth with a hard shove.

  She looked around to see if anyone else had heard them. “Will you just wait! God, Nina. Gimme a chance to explain here. Now stop r
ushing off to beat people up and listen to me, please.”

  Nina’s look was impatient, but she waved a hand in Wanda’s direction. “Fine. Speak.”

  Wanda huffed back at Nina, while Marty continued to shovel food between her lips, occasionally swiping delicately at her mouth with a napkin. Wanda settled back in the booth and looked them both in the eye. “I have to say, it all makes sense. It explains why he’s living in a homeless shelter with his manservant, of all things. If you knew anything about manservants, you’d know that term was practically extinct in this day and age. It explains why he acts like my cheese log is lobster tails—”

  “Well,” Marty said with a full mouth, “it is a rockin’ cheese log.”

  “Shit, dude. I so remember. It was all kinds of awesomeness,” Nina agreed with a regretful tinge to her tone.

  “It’s good, dude,” Wanda mocked Nina. “But it isn’t worthy of the eye rolls and groans of delight he spews. Either way, what he told me last night explains a lot.”

  “Last night?” Nina perked up.

  “Yes. Last night.”

  “Uh, don’t cold calls end at like three on Fridays so you crazy Bobbie-Sue bitches can begin the animal sacrifice at sundown?”

  Wanda leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at Nina. “One more snide remark, Nina, and I’m going to pop you.There are no animal sacrifices.”

  “Riiiight,” Nina dragged the word out. “It’s a cult without the animal sacrifices. Still doesn’t explain why you were with him at night.”

  She shrugged her shoulders in her denim jacket. “I don’t have to explain.”

  Marty dropped her fork, swallowing her food with a hard gulp. “You-did-him!”

  Nina cackled. “My, sistah! Gimme one.” She held up her hand for a high five.

  Wanda threw a french fry at her. “Could we not share that with all of Hackensack?”

  “So was it goooood?” Nina cooed. She watched Wanda’s face change. “Never mind. I can see it written all over your face.”