I was sorry I asked when I finally did.
“Oh, I met her,” Claire said, as we were doing laundry in the basement of the Glass House. She was sitting on the dryer this time while I dumped dirties into the washer; as usual, she was reading, this time one of Charlaine Harris’s vampire books. She probably considered it research. “Gloriana, I mean. She seems nice.”
Nice? I almost dropped the laundry detergent on my toes, which wouldn’t have been as much of an owie as you might think, since my boots are steel-toed. “How’d you run into her?”
“She visited Myrnin.”
That was strange, because Amelie was really damn serious that nobody, but nobody, visited Myrnin; those of us who knew Claire’s boss at all had sworn under pain of actual, bloody death not to talk about him, ever, to anybody not in the know. Gloriana just strolling into the equivalent of a highly secure facility seemed . . . unlikely.
Except that I’d met her, too. Gloriana seemed like she could charm her way into Fort Knox, and the guards would stand in line to help her carry out the gold. “How’d they get along?” I asked.
“Oh, he was all suave,” Claire said, and nearly giggled. “He actually ran off and got dressed up for her. It was cute. Well, I can understand why. She’s pretty . . . pretty. They know each other, from olden times. Maybe he dated her once.”
“Maybe,” I said. Weirder things had happened. “So, you liked her?”
Claire turned her head and looked at me; she’d gotten her shoulder-length hair cut again, shorter, but it was messy from the wind outside. Still cute, though. Her big, brown eyes were way too smart for either of our good. “You didn’t?”
I hadn’t told her about Gloriana’s visit to the house. I wasn’t sure why; I usually come right out with my latest drama, but this had felt . . . more dire than usual. And really personal. Now I just shook my head and focused on adding detergent in the right amounts for the colored clothes. Although I was tempted to bleach the hell out of Michael’s stuff. “You ever have that happen where you meet someone and just—clash? We were like a gravel and cream sandwich.”
“That is the weirdest thing you’ve ever said. I suppose you were the cream?”
“Of course I was the cream. Sha.”
Trust Claire to not get distracted. “Something happened with her and Michael,” she said. Wow. Zero to correct in one-point-nothing second. “Right?”
“Do you really think I’m that shallow that—okay, yes. She came over here. I found the two of them together.”
Her eyes widened, and she slipped down off the dryer. “Seriously, together? Like—”
“No, not like. Tea in the parlor, or the vampy equivalent. You know. Sitting, talking.” I frowned. “But it was way too nice. And besides, here, he’s mine. You know?”
Claire nodded, not that it made the least bit of sense. She’s a good friend. “Did you talk to him about it?”
“Oh, sure. Nothing happened, yada yada. The usual. But my maydar went off like crazy.”
“Maydar?”
“As in, he may be thinking about superhot sex with her. Like radar, only not as sure.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Did you ask?”
“Yes,” I said. “I asked.”
“And?”
“And he took me to bed.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I frowned unhappily down at the clothes, slammed the lid, and turned on the washer. “Oh. Exactly.”
“Exactly what?”
That was Michael, standing at the top of the basement steps. Claire and I did the guilty dance. She dropped her book, and hurriedly picked it up. “Nothing,” I blurted. My cheeks felt warm, and I was glad I was in shadow until I remembered, duh, vampire eyes. “Girl talk.”
He nodded, looking at me with a little sadness in his gaze, I thought. “Just wanted to remind you that we’re out of milk again. And hot sauce.”
“Why are those two always out at the same time? Because those do not go together.”
“I suspect Shane. He’d put hot sauce in anything,” Michael said.
“Ugh,” Claire sighed. “So true.” Michael didn’t leave, and after a second, Claire cleared her throat, closed up her book, and said, “Yeah, I’ve got something to do. Upstairs. Away from here.”
He stepped aside to let her out, then closed the door behind her and settled down on the steps. I had wet whites to put in the dryer, so I busied myself with that, making extra sure that everything was untangled, that the dryer sheet was in, that the timer was just so.
Michael waited patiently for me to get the fidgeting done before he said, “If you don’t want to go to the party, just say so.”
“Of course I want to go. It’s a big swanky dress-up party. How often do I get to go to those, in Morganville? I mean, some of these vampires own their own tuxes, even.”
“Eve.” His voice was gentle, and very kind. “I mean it. If you don’t want to go, we won’t go.”