7
I had sweet dreams of citrus scents and smooth, cool skin. I was rolling on soft white sheets while strong hands kneaded my back, slipping between my thighs to play my body like a violin. I was lost in the sensation of hands sliding over my skin as I floated on waves and waves of pleasure. Every cell of my body was poised for release. Just one more swish of his finger against my little bundle of nerves, and I would scream—“Collin!”
My eyes snapped open, mid-orgasm, as I writhed on the bed. I breathed heavily through my nose, riding out the last flutters and twisting my fingers in the sheets. My skin was coated in a light sheen of sweat, the back of my neck drenched.
I sat up carefully. The room was empty when I woke, a chair wedged under the doorknob. I would think about how he had managed to get out of the room with a chair propped against the door at another time. My bag was packed and all of my belongings gathered on the desk. It was still dark out, but I was determined to get an early start this morning. I had just enough cash to budget for gas-station coffee and a doughnut, which wasn’t exactly the breakfast of champions, but it would have to do.
On top of my suitcase was a little folded piece of paper.
Miranda,
Good morning. I tried to fuel up the car while you were asleep. I watched you driving and followed the procedures you use, with the exception of waving my middle finger at other drivers who follow too closely. Overall, I consider my first modern driving experience to be a success. Putting gas in the car was another story. Please tell Miss Scanlon that I’ll pay for the repairs.
“No, no, no!” I gasped, running to the motel window. The car was parked right outside our room, half in and half out of the parking space. It seemed that Collin didn’t know how to open the hatch for the gas tank. So he’d simply stuck his fingers into the groove and forced the door open with his vampire strength. Three finger-depth dents now marked the side panel, and the hatch door hung by the tiniest shred of a hinge.
I made a strange noise somewhere between a squawk and a sob. “Shiiiit!” I shouted, clapping my hand over my mouth. A hysterical giggle burst up from my chest, bubbling up through my mouth. And suddenly, I just didn’t care whether I woke up the rap-loving bachelors upstairs.
“He was trying to do something nice,” I told myself, squinching my eyes shut and clenching my teeth. “He was trying to help. Don’t freak out. It’s not like a broken gas door is that much worse than the new hood ornaments.” Groaning, I returned to reading the note.
Also, you will need to put gas in the car, as I’d forgotten that I did not have a wallet when I arrived at the station.
I snorted. “Of course.”
I will see you in Omaha tonight.
“Well, that was a very pleasant note, completely lacking in biting sarcasm,” I murmured. “Oh, wait, here we go.”
P.S. If I thought you made interesting statements while awake, imagine my astonishment at your candor while you are asleep. I didn’t know some of those acts were anatomically possible. I pledge to spend more time on the Internet, so I can catch up.
What did I say? What did I—Oh, Lord, did I moan? I seemed to recall that there was a lot of moaning … And giggling.
“Fuck a duck,” I groaned.
I drove like a bat out of hell for most of the morning, keeping the speedometer in that “ten mile over the limit” cushion that cops tended to overlook.
I found myself worrying about whether Collin was comfortable in his little cubby. It made me sad to think of him in his crisp suit, lying in a sort of coffin with his hands folded over his chest. Then again, as far as I knew, vampires slept in the fetal position, sucking their thumbs. Did the bumps of the road disturb him? Was he too hot, too cold? Did vampires feel these things in their “sleep”? Did he have a pillow? Did vampires need pillows? Ultimately, I decided there wasn’t much I could do, since opening the cubby to check on him would expose him to sunlight and kill him.
I used my time, navigating the rolling fields of Nebraska, to hash and rehash the events of the previous evening. What exactly was going on between Collin and me? Twenty-four hours before, I’d seriously considered lighting him on fire and blaming a faulty cigarette lighter. And somehow I thought it would be a good idea to roll around with him on a filthy motel carpet like a recently deflowered teenager on prom night?
I had a healthy sexual appetite, but nothing prepared me for the visceral responses that Collin drew from me. What did it say about me that I could get angry with Jason for telling Lisa that he loved her, but I could kiss Collin?
Collin was funny, without meaning to be. He was smart enough to be annoyed by my chaos and mess, but he also recognized that there was entertainment value in it. He listened to me, really listened, not just as a next step toward getting into my pants. He honestly wanted to understand what was going on in my head … if only I understood what was going on in my head. He knew what it was like, coming from a family that didn’t quite know what to do with you. And he made me laugh.
Last but not least, there was the fact that he was gorgeous in a tortured Byronic, Edward Rochester-meets-Lucius-Malfoy sort of way. He made me want to climb him like a proper British tree, for no other reason than that wrinkling his clothes would annoy him severely and, I hoped, provoke him into spanking me. He made me dizzy. He made my ears ring.
Wait, no. That was my phone.
Henry Rollins was singing, his ode to liars echoing in the cabin of the car. Jason was calling me again. It was time for me to talk to him. I hadn’t spoken to him in almost a week. It wasn’t mature or fair to shut him out like this. I hadn’t asked for complete radio silence while I was on the road, just some space. I could spare a few minutes to let him know that I was safe.
And yes, maybe that was “I committed frottage with a vampire” guilt talking.
I sighed and pressed the speakerphone function, remembering Collin’s rule about talking on the phone while driving. But even as I reached for the phone, I found myself praying that it was just another ass-dial.
“Hello?”
“Hey, you!” Jason exclaimed, as if he were speaking to me from across a war zone and not the Heartland. “Oh, Miranda, honey, it’s so good to hear your voice. I know you said you needed space, but not hearing from you has been driving me nuts.”
“I’m fine, Jason, really. I just need time to think.” And you and your ass calling me a half-dozen times a day isn’t helping my frame of mind, I added silently.
“I’m trying to give it to you, really. But it’s hard. I miss you,” he said. “I miss talking to you every day. No one makes me laugh like you do. No one’s made inappropriate jokes about professional baseball or network newscasters around me in weeks. I’ve been bored out of my skull.”
This probably was the point when I was supposed to say I missed him, too. But I found that the sound of his voice just sucked all of the wind out of my sails. Why couldn’t he listen to me when I said I needed space? Why couldn’t he back off? What was with this constant calling? He didn’t phone me this much when we were together.
Under normal circumstances, I would prattle through the day’s events, ask him questions about wedding plans, try to trick him into revealing what he planned for our date that evening. But today I was just sitting there, waiting for him to tell me what he wanted so I could get off the phone. He was the one who wanted to talk to me so bad, so why couldn’t he come up with conversation?
In Half-Moon Hollow, Jason cleared his throat. “Are you having fun?”
My lips quirked into a smile. I was, actually. Even with all of the disasters that befell us, I was having a pretty good time. But if I told Jason that, he would pout. I wasn’t supposed to be having fun. I was supposed to be using this time for a sensible relationship inventory.
Also, the idea of his having to come up with a whole conversation on his own was sort of amusing, so I kept it short and sweet. “No.”
Awkward silence, empty enough to form its own black hole and swallow both of us. I wondered whether I could crinkle paper near the receiver and pretend I was driving through a tunnel … in Nebraska. Did they have tunnels in Nebraska?
“I know you said you can’t talk about your clients, but can you at least tell me if this vampire is being nice to you?” he asked. “Do I need to talk to this Iris Scanlon about putting my girl in a car with the cranky undead?”
Something about the way he said “my girl” made me all warm inside. He used to address his notes to me with “To my girl.” Flowers, gifts, little tokens to show how much he cared, how often he thought of me. And I had loved knowing that I was his. It was the first time anyone had really claimed me. I mean, sure, my parents introduced me as their daughter, but they always did it with this note of apology in their voices. Jason had always introduced me with his hand on the small of my back, pushing me gently toward the other party, as if he couldn’t wait for them to meet me.
“He is decidedly not nice,” I said, smiling. “We’re getting to the point where we can tolerate each other without death glares. That’s about all I can say.”
“Well, if I need to fly up there and set him straight, you let me know.”
“As much as I appreciate it, I don’t think sending my ex in to beat him up makes me look very professional,” I said. “Also, he’s got all that vampire strength, so it probably wouldn’t end well for you.”
“I’m still your ex?” he asked, a note of hurt in his voice.
“At this point, yes. I haven’t made up my mind one way or the other, I’m sorry,” I said. “I need more time. And for the record, I also don’t think you could beat up a vampire.”
I admit, I was just trying to distract him with that little challenge to his manliness.
“Well, how much do you think you’re going to need?” he asked, his tone growing testy.
Apparently, the attempted distraction was a failure.
“However long it takes,” I said. “I hope to have an answer for you by the time I come back, but I’m not making any promises.”
“You’re just going leave me hanging until you decide whether you still want to be with me or not? That doesn’t seem fair, Miranda.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think the person who sent ‘I heart you, PoohBear’ texts to my maid of honor gets to make too many demands on me right now,” I retorted.
“Oh, Miranda.” He sighed and used that tone of voice that he only used when I was being stubborn or silly or both. “Don’t be that way.”
“What have you been doing while I’ve been away?” I asked, struggling to keep the petulant tone out of my voice.
“Oh, you know, staying busy with work,” he said dismissively. “Eating dinner at my mom’s, hanging out with Jake, that sort of thing.”
The unspoken question hung between us over the phone line. Had he seen Lisa? Had he kept his promise to put a halt to their relationship while we were still trying to work out whatever it was that we had? I didn’t know if I had the right to ask, given my circumstances, but he didn’t know that.
He really didn’t need to know that.
My inability and his unwillingness to discuss it irritated me for some reason, and I just wanted to get off the stupid phone and back to driving. “I need to go. I’m not supposed to take personal calls while driving.”
“Oh, all right, then. I just haven’t been able to catch you over the last few days. I thought you’d want to talk to me.”
“I’ll talk to you soon, Jason.”
“All right,” he said, sounding slightly wounded. “I love you.”
I clicked the “end” button before I could respond.
It wasn’t normal, I told myself. A simple conversation with a man I was supposed to love shouldn’t make me that uncomfortable. I hadn’t talked to Jason in days. I was supposed to be missing him, thinking about him. And talking to him had brought up all of these feelings of anger and disappointment. Was it the distance? Was his absence allowing me to feel the things I’d suppressed because I didn’t want to upset Jason, my mother, all of the people involved in the wedding?
The Miranda who had worked at Puckett and Puckett, putting up with her brother giving her noogies in the break room and her father checking her work for typos with a magnifying glass, never would have spoken to Jason in that flat, uninterested tone. She would have bubbled and placated until Jason got off the phone, assured him of her love. The girl who’d hung up without saying “I love you”? That girl had run away to work on a yacht because college bored her to death. That girl had set a stage magician on fire. She’d groped a vampire on a filthy motel floor.
Was I finding my way back to the girl I was? Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Sure, I’d had more fun before I settled down with Jason, but was I a good person? I had way too much time on my hands to be asking myself these sorts of questions. This mental pathway promised madness.
I turned on the “Jason Called” playlist, which included a crapload of Pink and Joan Jett. I hoped that Collin couldn’t be roused out of his daytime sleep by aggressive femmes, because it was about to get loud.
I drove a little faster, skipping my lunch break. I drank too much cheap coffee. I got a lot of attention from truckers, thanks to my hood decorations. And I was very glad that the windows were so heavily tinted.
By the time the sun set, I’d been driving for twelve hours straight, and I was exhausted. I’d gone through the “Mom Called” playlist, the “I Haven’t Seen a Starbucks in Three Hours” playlist, and the “My Ass Is Numb” playlist. I was planning to pull the car over at 6:04 as scheduled, but I heard the cubby door open with a squeak worthy of any Dracula movie.
“What are you doing?” I yelped, pulling to the side of the road quickly. “I thought you didn’t want the door open unless the car was stopped!”
He climbed out of the cubby and into the passenger seat while I popped a packet of donor blood into the warmer. And somehow, despite recently sleeping and the fact that he’d just done seat gymnastics, his clothes were less wrinkled than mine.
“Hello, Miranda,” he purred, and the rumbling, rolling timber of his accent had me shivering. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“You know how I slept. You were watching,” I muttered. “And if you comment further, you will not get this nummy treat.” I made a sarcastic wave toward the warmer.
“I would hate to miss that. So where will our adventures lead us this evening?” he asked, rubbing his hands together. “Perhaps you can pick a fight with a motorcycle gang.”
I gasped in mock incredulity. “Collin, are you having fun?”
“I simply enjoy trying to predict what you’ll do next. Force of habit.”
I assured Collin that I’d eaten before he rose, so we should just keep driving. He drank his warmed blood on the road. I had no idea how I was going to handle the hotel issue. Collin would be furious when he realized that I’d been lying to him. We would probably have to sleep in the car. And the farther I drove, the lamer the lie would seem.
“Are you all right?” he asked for the fifth time that night. “You seem very tense.”
“I just want to make as much progress as we can tonight, so tomorrow night isn’t such a haul.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stop for a soda or a bathroom break?” he said. “You haven’t rested since I rose.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
But I wasn’t fine. I was freaking exhausted. I blinked at the road, my eyelids and limbs heavy. I was so tired that holding my head up seemed to take a monumental effort. If I was alone, I would turn up the radio to obnoxious girl pop and sing along. I’d open the windows and drink enough caffeine to fire up a legion of skater kids. I didn’t think Collin would appreciate any of that, so I soldiered on.
I was quiet, mulling over the Jason issue and how I would approach him when I got back home. I dreaded seeing him. No matter what I said, I would be disappointing someone. If I ended it, Jason would be upset … in theory. If I got back together with him, I would be disappointing Lisa. And if I didn’t make a decision, I would be surprising no one. The odd thing was, I dreaded the prospect of dropping Collin off at Ophelia’s and saying good-bye so much more than having “the talk” with Jason.
The car was warm. The music was quiet and classical, heavy on lyrical piano. The pattern of yellow stripes marking the lanes created a mental rhythm, lulling me into a state of relaxation. My eyes grew heavy. I saw Collin in breeches and a waistcoat, shirt undone at the collar. He was standing in a field, emerald grass rolling like an ocean. The sun shone down on his skin, beautiful, ruddy, smooth skin glowing with health. He was walking toward me, his eyes twinkling with a special smile that meant that he was happy I’d returned at last. His arms wrapped around me, pressing me so close that my nose nestled against the hollow of his throat. He smelled like rosewood and fresh-mown hay. His hands slipped up my arms, shaking my shoulders. He pulled away, staring down at me with alarm.
“Miranda!” he cried. “Wake up!”
I gasped, bolting up in the seat. The car was veering right, my hands slack on the wheel.
“Miranda!” Collin yelled, shaking me awake.
“I’m awake!” I cried. “I’m awake! I’m sorry!”
The car was sliding off the shoulder into a rocky, unforgiving ditch. I yelped, jerking the wheel, praying that I wouldn’t overcorrect and end up in the opposite lane or flip the freaking car. I sucked in a huge lungful of air, willing the oxygen to recirculate through my brain and wake me the hell up.
“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing my hair away from my face.
I nodded, reaching into the cooler compartment to drag out a Coke and slug back most of it in one gulp. “I’m just a little tired.”
And my nose was burning, because some of the Coke bubbles went the wrong way.
“Tired, hell, Miranda. You’re exhausted. I can feel it rolling off you in waves. You’re making me sleepy, and it’s practically mid-morning by my internal clock.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, yawning widely. “We have a couple of hours to go yet before we reach our goal for the night. If we stop now, we won’t be able to make the Hollow on time tomorrow night. We’re too close, Collin. I can’t hold us up just because I’m a little sleepy.”
Also, I didn’t know how the hell we would pay for a hotel, I silently added, and sleeping at a truck stop didn’t really appeal to me.
“Pull over,” he said, opening his atlas and checking our route.
“What? Why?”
“I’m going to drive.”
“You don’t have a license,” I protested.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive. I just didn’t want to be documented by the human government.”
“Were you afraid you would take a bad photo?” I asked, yawning again.
“Impossible. Look at my profile.”
“And modest, too.” I chuckled weakly. “Well, I would be happy to let you drive, but I’ve got enough to explain to Iris.”
“Meaning?”
“You ripped off my gas-tank door!” I exclaimed.
He huffed. “I’ve been secluded for decades. The last car I drove was wound by crank. There have been some changes in technology, but the principles are the same. Besides, the gas tank is nearly full. You have nothing to worry about.”
“I doubt that,” I said. “I appreciate it, Collin, really, but I can’t—”
“You can, and you will,” he insisted. “And imagine how much faster we will get to the Hollow tomorrow if we spend this evening driving instead of resting at a motel.”
“So … skip the motel and drive on through?” I asked.
This was the perfect solution to my having to tell Collin about our money problem. And we’d arrive in the Hollow early, which would impress Iris. If Collin didn’t veer into oncoming traffic and kill us both, which would be a down side.
“And if we arrive in town early and complete my business with Ophelia, perhaps we can spend some time together.”
“We’re spending time together now,” I reminded him, keeping my voice even, despite the excited fluttering in my belly.
“Yes, time restricted by deadlines, work policies, and your reluctance to get involved with a client. I would like to see if we enjoy each other’s company without those constraints.”
“You’re worried that you only like me because you have a chauffeur fetish?” I asked, tilting my head.
He frowned at me. “Miranda.”
“It’s the saucy little hats, isn’t it? Everybody loves a saucy hat.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I am reconsidering my previous statement.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “You don’t see anything bad happening?”
“No, but that’s no guarantee with you around.”
“If you have to stop for gas, wake me up,” I told him sternly as I pulled the car onto the shoulder.
“I will,” he promised.
I slipped into the passenger seat as he jogged around the car to the driver’s side. My photo journal was propped open in the console. Collin had shamelessly leafed through it again, despite my protests of privacy. I shoved it between the passenger seat and the console and told myself that it was rude to gripe about it when he’d been so complimentary about my photos. While I’d gassed up the car earlier in the evening, he’d subtly worked in questions about when I would be returning to photography. I’d told him I had no such plans and mentioned Jason’s suggestion of taking Christmas photos at Sears for the diapered set. He was suitably horrified and dropped the subject.
“This is surprisingly comfortable,” I told him, settling into the new front-seat perspective.
He clicked his seatbelt and slid his jacket over me. “Close your eyes and get some rest.”
I smiled, nuzzling my nose into the collar. “Talk to me,” I said. “Your voice helps me fall asleep.”
“I don’t know how to take that.”
“It’s a compliment,” I assured him.
“OK, have you ever wanted to be turned?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I would do more damage as an immortal. I’m not afraid of dying … I just want some dignity when it happens. But I think we both know it’s probably going to involve a falling piano or an exotic tropical disease.”
“I think the world would be a lot less interesting without you in it,” he said. “I rather like having you around. Yes, it’s frustrating. But it’s also an incredible relief. The weight is off my shoulders. I don’t feel responsible for the safety of the people around me … except for you, of course. That’s enough to keep me busy, but it’s nice to have some focus.”
I smirked as Collin started describing his childhood in England, his mother, his brother, in a rolling baritone that had my eyelids drooping. My head sank back against the seat. My sleep was deep and untroubled.
I was standing in the middle of a crowded, smoky concert venue, one of those run-down old taverns that try to draw in the younger crowds with watered-down beer and concentrated bad ’80s rock. A mosh pit had formed around me like a sea storm of bodies, twitching and bashing against one another because the occupants were so bored with the band that being knocked unconscious seemed like a better entertainment alternative. I was battered by the waves of unwashed bodies, tempted to drop to my knees and crawl to the nearest fire exit. But that would mean touching the floor, and even in my dreams, I wasn’t going to do that.
A squeal of guitar feedback caught my attention. Collin was standing onstage, the veins and tendons standing stark under his pale skin as he sang, “ ’Cause I’m a LIAR!”
The sight of straight-laced, polished Collin, shirtless and sweaty—and with a pulse, if that angry red flush to his cheeks was any indication—was enough of a shock that I froze. And I was whacked in the face with a flying combat boot for my troubles. Still, it didn’t break the spell of Collin’s stage presence, especially when he looked right at me, blue eyes blazing, and screamed, “Yeah, I’m a LIAR!”
Jerking awake, I sat up slowly, my mouth dry and my head fuzzy. A bit of drool had dried against my cheek, and I swiped at it vigorously. “What the hell?”
My cell phone was blaring Jason’s ringtone from the center console. Fumbling for it, I pressed my thumb to what I thought was the “ignore” button. But my fingertip slid across the screen, and I hit “speakerphone.”
“Oh, shoot,” I hissed, cursing my ineffectual thumbs.
There was a weird thumping noise on the other end of the line and the tumbling crash of furniture being knocked over. I huffed, rolling my eyes. Jason must have ass-dialed me again. I’d almost hit “end” when I heard her.
“Jason!” a high-pitched female voice squealed from the phone. “No tickles! You promised!”
“I’m going to get you,” Jason sing-songed in the stupid voice he sometimes used as “Playful Sex Jason.”
My jaw dropped as I stared at the phone in my hand, transfixed by the source of the obscene giggling.
“No!” the woman squealed, clearly delighted with Playful Sex Jason. More delighted than I can remember being in months. “No, Jason, not the knees!”
“Yes, the knees,” Jason insisted, and I could hear sloppy kissing noises smacking through the receiver. There was a weird muffled thumping sound and more squeals. Jason groaned, and the girl sighed happily. There was another clear, hard thump. And another … and another … and another.
I guessed the “emotional affair” had taken a turn for the naked.
“Lisa!” Jason moaned. “Oh, Lisa, baby, I love you so much.”
“What?” I yelled at my phone. “You son of a bitch!”
Collin snatched the device out of my hands and hit “end,” just as Lisa’s rapturous moans hit a crescendo.
“You didn’t need to hear more,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes on the road.
Speechless, I stared at the phone as if I could reestablish the connection, reach through it, and throttle my former fiancé. Collin actually leaned away from me at the wheel as if he wanted to stay out of smacking range. I crossed my arms over my chest and seethed silently.
What in the actual fuck? How long had Jason been sleeping with Lisa? Had he been lying when he swore that he hadn’t touched her while we were engaged? Had he waited until I was out of town to jump into bed with her? Did it really matter?
I thought about all of the times Jason had apologized for what happened with Lisa, all of the gifts and tearful talks. And I just couldn’t wrap my head around why he bothered. What was his plan? To keep screwing Lisa until the wedding? For the rest of our lives? Why did he spend all that time asking me to come back to him if he loved his childhood friend? If he was in love with her, fine! Why not just take my breaking off the engagement as some sort of sign that they were supposed to be together? Was it that he couldn’t bear being dumped by me? Did he want me back just so he could do the official dumping?
I rubbed my hands over my face, realizing that this was the question that had been eating at me, keeping me from committing to a life with or without Jason. If he loved someone else, why did he say he wanted me?
I’d never trusted his sudden change of heart. I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop all this time, and it had kicked me in the face months ago. All this time, I knew deep down that as much as I wanted to, I’d never be able to forgive him. Not really. I mean, I assigned him “Liar” as a ringtone. That should have been a whopping subconscious clue.
My heart had known for a while. It just took my brain a few months to catch up. And just when I was starting to feel a little bit better, I realized that we had a bigger problem looming ahead of us.
“Hey, Collin, where are we?”
NOT OK, JOHN DENVER