by Zoe Chant
“Where did you get that?”
He blushed then. “One of my father’s last pieces of advice was that I should always make sure I have a working vehicle and a flattering suit. I bought it in Minneapolis for some work thing.”
Jamie looked past him. “Well, it looks like you got half his advice right. And you probably spent more on the suit.”
His car was...less impressive.
It was a beat-up Honda from two decades ago at least, with one off-color door and enough rusty dents that it went past ‘having character’ straight to ‘having no resale value.’
“It has heated seats,” Devon offered. “My lady?”
Jamie took his elbow and let him lead her to the questionable car and open the door for her. It stuck, and he had to wiggle the handle.
She was wearing heels, a long coat, and even lipstick. She had bought eyeshadow and liner, but after several asymmetrical applications, had given up on that and settled for just the Hot Cherry Bomb lipstick.
The seat was indeed heated, and the ride to Madison was better-sprung than Jamie had expected.
They argued good naturedly over the music selection, limited as they were to the radio and a collection of cassette tapes. “You have Depeche Mode?” Jamie had to laugh.
“The very best of,” Devon said proudly.
They sang, badly, for part of the ride. Devon insisted the Britney Spears tape was his sister’s, but still knew every word.
“Where are you taking me?” Jamie asked suspiciously, as the drive went on and on.
“You’ll see,” Devon said mysteriously. He cast her a sideways look and added, “I think you’ll like it.”
But they didn’t stop in Madison. “I think you missed the exit,” Jamie pointed out, wondering if he was going to be one of those terrible navigators who hated being corrected.
“We’re not going to Madison,” Devon told her.
“Are you taking me to Milwaukee?”
“You’ll see,” Devon repeated.
“What about your sister?” Jamie demanded.
“She’s a very mature twelve, and she’s babysitting the kid next door until late. Probably really late. I told her not to wait up.”
Jamie had to smile at his smirking profile. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”
He looked over at her and grinned, sending her heart into involuntary flutters.
Over the next hour, he teased her mercilessly, and the traffic grew thicker. He cast worried glances at his watch and led Jamie through a navigation program on his phone. “We’ll just make it,” he decided.
“Where?” Jamie wailed.
He refused to tell her, guiding his dented car through the increasingly busy streets, straight downtown, until he pulled up in front of a tall building along the lake.
“You got reservations at Bacchus?” Jamie said in astonishment as a valet opened her door.
Devon looked triumphant. “Shelley had an in.”
“They have probably never parked a car like this in the history of this restaurant,” Jamie said as Devon gave the valet his keys.
The valet’s face was professionally neutral as he opened the driver’s side door with an inelegant creak and drove off with a grind of gears to leave them standing before the building.
“Are you surprised?” Devon asked, like a great, eager puppy.
“I’m surprised,” Jamie confessed. “Wow.”
“We can hit the club next door if you want to go dancing afterwards,” Devon said.
“Have you ever been to a dance club?” Jamie asked him.
“No,” Devon confessed.
“We’ll see how we feel after dinner,” Jamie said. She tucked her hand into his elbow and they went inside.
“Reservation for Maynard,” Devon said at the hostess stand.
“I don’t have a reservation under that name,” she said in chilly tones, and her glance at Jamie was downright scornful.
Jamie was keenly aware of her aged coat and her sparse makeup.
For a moment, both Devon and Jamie were silent and she saw color creep up into his ears.
“Are you sure?” Devon asked diffidently.
“Quite sure,” she said.
“I placed it two nights ago,” Devon said.
Jamie’s heart sank, and she regretted her earlier wish to see Devon out of his depth.
“It must have been lost,” the hostess sniffed. “We aren’t responsible for technical difficulties.”
“Is it under Shelley’s name?” Jamie suggested, but Devon surprised her by stepping around the podium to stand very close to the hostess and murmur to her quietly.
It was like he had changed completely in that moment, going from a soft, gentle guy who drove a rusty Honda and was single-handedly raising an almost-teenaged girl, to a man who owned the suit he was wearing, with an unexpected air of danger and strength. He was a whole different Devon: he knew exactly what he wanted, and he was going to get it.
The hostess shrank back, her eyes wide and alarmed by whatever it was that Devon was telling her, and she flipped through the pages of her reservation with determination. “We’ll have a table for you in ten minutes,” she promised. “Can I order you something from the bar?”
Instantly, Devon was smiling and Jamie could have sworn he was three inches shorter than he’d been just a moment before. “Do you want anything?” he asked her.
“Rum and coke,” Jamie said, mystified.
“Make it two,” Devon agreed.
“What did you tell her?” Jamie hissed at him, when she went to place their orders and they took a seat by the door.
“That I program the website for the restaurant critic Table For Tray and I’d make sure that they were removed from the directory. Because I am responsible for technical difficulties.” Devon looked sheepish.
Jamie laughed out loud. “You are my very favorite geek in the whole world,” she said in delight, and she sobered to hear her own words. She’d thought that Devon would be out of place once she got him out of the sleepy little Green Valley, and instead he’d proved himself tougher and even more versatile than she’d expected.
Then she got the last laugh after all, because the hostess offered to take her coat, and Jamie got to see Devon’s face when she took it off.
11
Jamie’s lipstick had been alluring enough to be terrifically disturbing on the drive over. Every time he’d glanced over, he was struck by how red her lips were, and how badly he wanted to kiss her, to see if she tasted like Kool-Aid. Only shifter reflexes had stopped him from rear-ending a car from the distraction at one point.
But the lipstick was nothing compared to the rest of what she was wearing.
The coat had been tantalizing on the drive over, and Devon guessed that Jamie was wearing something amazing under it. His efforts to turn the heat in the car up enough to make her take it off had been thwarted by the half-powered heater in the car.
And it wasn’t really the dress, though it was in every way the perfect little black dress.
It was Jamie herself, her long, strong legs under the short skirt, her pale shoulders under the thin straps, the fascinating swell of her breasts over the low cut bodice. She wasn’t wearing jewelry, or any makeup besides the scarlet lipstick, and she didn’t need any of it.
She was a goddess.
She was a force of nature.
She was all the confidence that could be fit in that much skin, the way she walked to the table that was promptly prepared for them, the way her hips swayed and the curve of her sweet, perfect ass as Devon helplessly followed her.
The table that they were led to was tucked into a private corner; possibly pulled out of storage and set up deliberately for them.
Devon picked an item from the menu at random while Jamie studied it and smirked, undoubtedly knowing exactly what she was doing to him.
It was a long wait for the food, and Devon was perfectly content simply to watch Jamie make observations about the other peop
le in the restaurant and sip from her water with her absurdly red lips.
He didn’t taste a bite of the overpriced food once it came, too enthralled by the woman sitting opposite from him making his heart sing.
She was his mate.
He felt like they floated through the meal, and he paid the bill without even registering the week’s worth of pay that he was signing away.
Standing on the city sidewalk afterwards, Jamie on his arm, everything felt surreal and strange.
“What do you want to do now?” he asked, looking down the brightly-lit city block.
“Let’s get your car,” Jamie said, smiling up at him with promise on her lips. She’d re-applied the lipstick, and it was brilliant red and utterly enticing.
Devon flagged the valet down and gave him the ticket. It was chilly, and there was a brisk, cold breeze making people tuck their coats closer. Jamie shivered, and he pulled her close.
“Jamie…” he started, but he didn’t know where to go from there. Was it too early to ask her to marry him? They still hadn’t resolved what they were going to do that summer when Jamie planned to return to Alaska, but at that moment, he would have followed her anywhere.
“I am glad your clunker has heated seats,” Jamie said, as it appeared around the corner and the valet pulled it up for them.
Devon took the driver’s seat silently, and Jamie slid in and shivered while he blasted the heater.
They talked casually on the way back, about the dinner, and about Abby, and gossip about the residents of Green Valley. Devon desperately wanted to broach the subject of the future, to finally ask if she was a shifter, and failed to find the courage about six times. Instead, they talked about food and politics and invoicing software, somehow.
“Turn here,” Jamie said suddenly, pointing to a little road going off the highway shortly before the turnoff to Green Valley.
Devon turned obediently. “Where does this go?” he asked. It wound up into the low, forested hills.
“You’ll see,” Jamie said.
The trees opened onto a ridge where they had a view out over the wide valley, dark expanses and cheerfully lit houses as far as they could see. Jamie showed him a pullout by a rickety fence. “There!”
Devon pulled in and put the car in park. “Where are we?”
Jamie was unbuckling her seatbelt and pulling her coat off; the heater had finally put out enough energy to get that far at least. “This, my gorgeous, sweet, sheltered guy, is Make-Out Point.”
Devon had figured that their date was nearly over and his heart rose at the idea that it might not be. “What are we doing here?”
Jamie grinned at him, her teeth bright in the darkness. “We’re going to make out, silly.”
She reached over between his legs and found the seat release, sending his chair back as far as it would go, then climbed over on top of him, jiggling in a fascinating way as she straddle him and began to loosen his tie.
“I’m okay with this,” Devon said, strangled, as she started to unbutton his shirt and he struggled to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I’m definitely okay with this.”
Her lipstick tasted strangely chalky, but the pressure of her mouth was perfect, and the body he’d been longing to touch all night was everything he’d been imagining. Her legs were smooth and silky as he pulled her dress up and she abandoned his shirt after a few buttons to fumble at his pants.
The seat went back with a CLUNK that made them both giggle and clutch at each other.
“Devon…” Jamie’s teeth scraped his ear as they struggled in the tiny space to get aligned.
His cock sprang free from his pants and Devon got Jamie’s underpants down around her knees. Knees knocked, and the steering wheel was a serious pinch point as they adjusted and then, finally, she was sinking down onto him, wet and slippery.
She moaned, and Devon realized that he was too, clutching at her ass under the crumpled dress. The windows were rapidly fogging.
He was suddenly, sinkingly aware of flashing red lights outside.
“Jamie, Jamie,” he groaned. “We gotta stop.”
Her fingernails sunk into the shoulder she had managed to uncover. His suit was definitely going to need to be steamed again.
“What...is...it?” she asked, not so much stopping as slowing to an unbearable pace.
“Someone’s out there…cops...” Devon could just imagine the speed at which that story would swirl around Green Valley. Would they be cited for indecent exposure? Could he afford the fine after the dinner he’d just bought?
Jamie swore, rather creatively, and reluctantly stopped riding him, but didn’t scramble to dismount.
They were both quiet, listening with hearts pounding, but the only sound was the dull rumbling of the running Honda. The windows, by now, were frosted.
“I saw lights,” Devon promised.
“I was about to,” Jamie said archly.
They remained still for a long moment.
“I don’t think anyone is there,” Jamie said, and she slowly began to rise and lower on him, faster, but still agonizingly slow. “Maybe...it...went...by…”
Devon shut his eyes, lost in the sensation of her, tight around him, soft above him, and was surprised when Jamie suddenly burst out laughing, clenching around him deliciously as she did.
His eyes flew open. “What? What?”
“Flashing red lights!” Jamie chortled. “It’s from my foot on the brake pedal!” She demonstrated, and the red lights reflected off the ceiling of the car.
“Not cops,” Devon said in relief.
“Better than cops,” Jamie assured him, and she was speeding up again. “Much better,” she gasped.
They were laughing together as they rose onto a peak of pleasure, and laughing afterwards, wrapped up with each other.
“Better than cops,” Jamie giggled into his chest.
Devon might have willingly stayed there for an indefinite amount of time, curled uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. Then the car gave a threatening cough. “Oh crap, I don’t want to run out of gas…”
“It’s a long walk to Green Valley from here,” Jamie agreed.
They carefully untangled themselves from each other, cursing the steering wheel and knocking knobs akilter as they cleaned up and pulled their clothing back into place. The fan came on with a wail and the windshield wipers scratched across the front window.
“Jamie…” Devon started, adjusting his seat.
“That’s what I call a good date,” Jamie said, practically purring in satisfaction. She found the ice scraper and started to clear the front window. “How do you rate car sex?”
Devon couldn’t help but grin. “Ten stars. No, nine. The steering wheel gets in the way.”
“Next time, we’ll do it in the passenger seat,” Jamie suggested.
“No flashing red lights,” Devon chuckled.
“I’m going to make you a checklist,” Jamie declared.
“A checklist?”
“Geeks love checklists,” Jamie said airily. “I’m going to make a list of the sex we’re going have, all the stuff you missed because of your complicated life. We can check off car sex now. I’ll add sex in the park, and sex on the beach, not the drink. There’s a gravel pit about twenty minutes away that will count for that, though we should probably wait until spring. Sex at the library…”
“The library!”
“There’s a conference room with a locking door. Just...check the schedule first. Don’t ask me how I know that.”
“I don’t think I want to know.”
“I didn’t know that Tawny had a key!”
“I definitely don’t want to know!” Devon protested, and he told himself that feeling jealous was counterproductive. Jamie was his now, and forever.
Some of it must have shown on his face anyway, because Jamie kissed him on the cheek. “Nothing to worry about, I promise. Youthful rebellion.”
He might have worried further anyway, but the phone in his pocket gave
a demanding buzz and he pulled it out to check the text.
He had to read it twice.
“What’s that about?” Jamie asked.
“My sister,” Devon started. He read the text a third time.
“Something wrong?”
“She says there’s a flock of velociraptors in the yard.”
12
It was not, to everyone’s mixed relief and disappointment, actual velociraptors in the yard that Jamie persisted in thinking of as Tawny’s.
It was, however, a flock of furious wild turkeys, convinced of their own size and importance, and absolutely determined to keep anyone from the front door of the house.
It was already dark, and the creatures were menacing in the shadows cast from the dim porch light.
“Dean and Shelley came back about fifteen minutes ago,” Abby reported. “I came home and...this.” Like most pre-teens, she was not dressed for the cold, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Jamie, on the other hand, was already feeling chilled, and wished she were wearing pants—for protection from the turkeys trapped in Tawny’s yard, if nothing else.
The nearest and largest of them was strutting about on the far side of the gate from them, yelping and shaking its tail feathers. The others were agitating in the frozen remains of Tawny’s garden, scratching and pecking and occasionally hissing.
“When I said I wanted to have a turkey dinner for Thanksgiving, I was thinking of something a little more...butchered,” Abby said in disgust. “How do we get them out of there?”
“Are you sure they are turkeys?” Devon said, fascinated, and Jamie was reminded that he wasn’t nearly the country boy he was trying to be.
“Turkeys. Insane giant chicken reptiles. I don’t know!” Abby protested. “They’re mean!”
“These are wild turkeys,” Jamie assured them. “You just have to scare them out. They aren’t as tough as they look!”
She put her hand at the gate latch and the nearest turkey launched itself at her, flapping wings and honking in outrage. Jamie flinched back and would have fallen if Devon hadn’t caught her.