“You literally just did it.”
“That was a different smile. A decoy smile.”
“There’s no such thing as a decoy smile.”
“There is now. I invented it.” I shrugged.
Marco told a story about a client who wanted a tattoo of his ex-wife’s face on his ass so he could “fart on her forever.” The wife had cheated on him with his brother. They spent twenty minutes debating whether the revenge was justified or just sad.
“And you did it?” I asked.
“Hell yeah I did it. Charged him double though. Hazard pay.”
Vinnie showed me pictures of his new puppy, a tiny Pomeranian named Brutus who weighed three pounds and had already destroyed two pairs of shoes, a couch cushion, and Vinnie’s will to live. “He’s got a lot of anger for such a small body,” Vinnie said proudly. “The vet says he needs behavioral training. I say he’s just expressing himself.”
“He bit the mailman,” Marco said.
“The mailman was on our property.”
“He was delivering mail. That’s his job.”
“Brutus doesn’t know that. He doesn’t understand capitalism.”
Dom ordered Chinese food at some point, declaring he “couldn’t watch her survive on grocery store ice cream and broken eggs like some kind of disaster goblin.” I would have been offended if he wasn’t completely right.
By the time I finally headed upstairs, I’d almost forgotten about the footsteps. Almost.
The guys insisted on walking me to my door, even though it was literally just up a flight of stairs attached to their building. Dom made a big show of checking the hallway for “dangerous felines.” Marco grunted and told me to lock my damn door. Vinnie hugged me, which was awkward because he was built like a refrigerator but also very sweet.
“Thanks,” I said, and meant it. “For not making me feel stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” Dom said. “You’re careful. That’s smart. Better to run from nothing than not run from something.”
“That’s surprisingly philosophical.”
“I have depths.”
I laughed, said goodnight, and finally closed myself inside my apartment.
I leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a long breath. I was safe. I was home. Everything was fine.
But I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there had been more than a cat out there, watching from the shadows, even if Dom didn’t find anyone on the street.
***
I lay in bed, freshly showered, stomach full of Chinese food.
The window was cracked to let in the cool night air, and the familiar sounds of Lysmont drifted up. Distant traffic, someone’s music playing too loud, a dog barking at shadows. The occasional rumble of a car passing by.
I should sleep. I was exhausted. Tomorrow I had to work on my book, avoid Damien’s calls, and somehow pretend my life wasn’t a slow-motion dumpster fire.
But every time I closed my eyes, I saw gray eyes flashing amber.
What the hell wasthatabout?
Thessa’s explanation made sense. Australian slang, weird habit, cultural difference. I’d watched enough international reality TV to know that different countries had different expressions. It wastotally normal. So why was I still thinking about it? Why did it feel…Differently?
Nobody had ever called me mate before. I was projecting. I had to be. I wrote werewolf romance for a living, and my brain was pattern-matching, seeing book boyfriends in random tourists who happened to have intense stares.
