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She turns to look at me, but I can’t read her face.
“And don’t give me any feminine crap about not needing help. I know you told Ms. Stella you would handle it, but this is not a situation you can deal with alone.”
I pull into an open parking space and let the truck idle while I wait for her to respond. She may be able to keep her expression clear, but the tension in her body says she’s ready to fight. I don’t know if it’ll be me she’s fighting. I hope not, because she has already lost that battle. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Her hands are tucked under her legs, but I slide mine over her knee. “Chipmunk, you aren’t alone now. You have a whole community that will rally to help you. You said this is the kind of place you wanted to have, and the kind of people you wanted around you.”
Just like that, every part of her softens. Her shoulders drop, her posture relaxes, her chin comes down at least two inches.
I think she’s going to speak, but instead her stomach growls. Loudly.
I try not to laugh until her eyes jump to mine. That’s all it takes, and we both burst out at the same time.
“I took a pain pill, so I should really eat before we talk.” She pulls her hands out and lets one rest on top of mine where it’s still on her knee.
“Okay, but after that...”
“I promise,” she says.
I help her slide out of the truck, and my hand slips up her waist and under the short side of the sweater she’s wearing. Our eyes lock together and my skin on hers sends a trail of heat up my arm, into my chest.
I almost lean in and smudge the raspberry gloss shimmering on her mouth. Instead, I step back and let out a ragged breath. I let myself look at the rest of her as a reward for good behavior.
Wisps of copper escape and frame her face with its cinnamon freckles I’ve mapped with my fingers. The rest of her hair falls from the hairband like streams of satin, and my hands itch to sift through it, to hold it in my grasp, to use it to pull her closer.
The ponytail leaves her pale neck on display, and I suddenly see the appeal for the vampire. The veins that flutter under her skin, begging to be bitten and sucked... One shoulder is naked, the sweater dipping down, down. I want to follow the line of her collarbone with my tongue into the valley between her breasts and then tease her nipples until she begs me for more.
The scrape of her boot on the pavement when she shifts distracts me for a second. But my gaze climbs back up her slacks to the silk ties swirling in soft colors that lead to her waist. Her waist where a sliver of skin is left exposed, taunting me.
Lorelai clears her throat. “James,” she whispers, bringing my eyes back to her face. The blue in her silver eyes is spreading, echoing the blue in her sweater. I see my own hunger mirrored back.
Squeals from the next row over break the spell, and Morgan gallops over. She thrusts herself between us to give Lorelai a hug and then stands back to inspect her.
“Woman, you do not look like you scraped the pavement twenty-four hours ago!” Morgan spins Lorelai by one hand like a dance move. “Thank goodness you’re okay!” She looks up at me. “Stop looking at her like the big bad wolf. Let’s go eat!”
Morgan keeps Lorelai’s hand and tugs her toward the restaurant, leaving me to follow in their wake. I can’t believe I’m jealous of my medical officer. Who’s female. And very straight. And almost married.
Chapter 33
~~ Lorelai ~~
The pub is loud tonight.
There’s a small band set up in the corner, and conversations cross and complete with each other. The bar is about three people deep all the way across.
Morgan pulls me to the bar, then she’s letting go of my hand, pushing in between people, climbing onto a barstool, and leaning over the bar to land a smacking kiss on the lips of the beautiful bartender who’d served me my first night in town.
“My man!” She calls back to me. “Lai, meet Riain.”
I just smile and give a wave, figuring there was no way anyone would hear me over the cacophony.
Riain’s yell to the kitchen carries loud and clear. “Hey, Ma! Little Fey is back!” He looks at me. “Good to see you again,” he says, giving me that panty-dropping smile that makes so much more sense now that I know who he is. Morgan’s fiancé is a semi-retired model who’s more in demand since he announced he was settling down to take over his parent’s pub than he ever was.
“Little Fey?” I hear James’s growl in my ear a second before I feel his warmth at my back. I wonder if he's jealous that he isn't the only one to give me a nickname. I know it shouldn't, but it gives me a thrill inside to think he might be.
Mrs. Kelley comes around the corner just then, granting hugs to Morgan, and then folding me into her arms. She holds onto me long enough I get choked up, tears filling my eyes.
She pulls back and pats my cheek. “There now. You're family here,” she smiles, and I give a wobbly one back. I’m overwhelmed by the rush of love and acceptance surrounding me like a blanket fresh out of the dryer.
