“You aren’t able to see real zombies,” I reminded her.
“That doesn’t mean they aren’t there. First, I told Frosty no, but then he said, ‘Would I ever put you at risk, woman?’ And I said, ‘How would I know? You’ve been living a double life since we started dating.’ And he said, ‘You want me to apologize again, don’t you?’ And I said, ‘Every day for the rest of your life.’ He had the nerve to laugh as if I was joking.”
I smothered a laugh of my own. “So...what’s your costume?”
“A too-sexy-to-handle Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Let me guess. Frosty’s going as the Big Bad Wolf.”
“What else? I have a feeling he thinks it’ll be hilarious to snap his teeth at me and say, ‘I’m going to eat you up, my dear.’”
Picturing it, I shook my head. “You’re going to tell him to prove it. Aren’t you?”
“I like that you know me so well.”
She turned onto a winding gravel road nestled between rows of trees in the process of shedding their fall coats. When the trees finally gave way to fields of wheat, Cole’s “workout station for stallions” became visible—a big red barn that looked ready to topple over. Actually, the thing could withstand a military invasion.
“This place is in the middle of nowhere,” Kat remarked as she eased to a stop.
“For many reasons.” Slayers coming at all hours of the day and night. The sheer number of weapons kept here. The condition we sometimes left in.
There were more cars than usual in the driveway. I frowned as I stepped into the coolness of the day. Grunts, groans and even cheers seeped from the crack in the door. “Come on.” I quickened my pace.
I stopped just inside the entrance and could only gape. I’d assumed Cole, and maybe the überdedicated Frosty and Bronx would be the only guys willing to forgo a countrywide day off.
Kat bumped into me and froze. “Oh, spank me,” she whispered, her tone reverent.
Here they were, all of the slayers in all their glory. There was enough testosterone in the air to jump-start the deadest of hearts. Most of the boys were shirtless, displaying bronzed muscles honed from more than just weights—honed from hacking at the enemy. I saw wicked scars, sexy tattoos and piercings, and even a few house-arrest anklets.
The blond and scarily beautiful Frosty pounded his fists into a poor, defenseless punching bag. The rough-and-tumble Bronx held the thing in place, his feet planted firmly on the floor. There was no force on earth that could move him, even one as violent as Frosty. Collins ran on a treadmill, and Cruz lifted weights.
And Cole, well, he was in the boxing ring with a girl I didn’t recognize.
There was an unfamiliar boy standing at the side, watching the pair. The only other females in the room were Mackenzie—Cole’s very feral ex—and Trina, a girl Kat had yet to forgive for not having a summer fling with Frosty.
Don’t ask.
Trina waved at me, and I waved back, but my attention quickly returned to Cole. He swung lightheartedly at the unknown girl, and she ducked before straightening and swinging at him. He ducked, too, and when she swung again, he caught her fist and jerked her against the hard line of his body, effectively disabling her.
She grinned up at him, all cocky assurance and feminine wiles—and she stayed right where she was, clearly happy to be there. A boy with a girlfriend should have released her and stepped back. Although Cole stiffened, the gleam in his eyes turning granite-hard, he remained just as he was, returning her grin with one of his own.
I wasn’t sure what any of that meant. I only knew I didn’t like it.
Time for Pep Talk Ali. He’s trained other girls. He’s even smiled at other girls. This isn’t romantic. This isn’t sexual.
Of course, Downer Ali wasn’t fully convinced (yes, there are many sides to me). He didn’t pick you up because he didn’t want to leave this girl’s side.
I shook my head. He was mine, my toy, and I wouldn’t share.