“You look better already,” I whisper to my reflection. “You’re going to be okay. Going to survive. Be smarter. You’re already learning what not to do again.”
Never, ever think bad boys are sexy.
I think about Jasper again as I towel off.
But helpful ones...
My weak legs remind me that helpful guys are the stuff my new fantasies are made of.
“LORETTA?” I WHISPERat the door when I go to her room a few hours after dinner. I was a little disappointed I didn’t get to help put Ari to bed, but I can’t get spoiled.
She whips open the door, looking cute as a button in the red velour sweatsuit set I picked out. I figured it was soft and basic, and well... I know how good she looks in red. I bought a purple and a navy one, too, but I think this one is my favorite.
“I just realized—you never went into work!” Loretta hisses, looking aghast.
“I called in while Ari and I were making the spaghetti. I really do need to go in tomorrow, though, because my three mentee nights are coming up on the 4th, 5th, and 6th. I’ve been thinking of some options. After the morning segment, I can drive you to Rochester. Or we can get your parents to come here. There are local options, too. Alban and Harper Wymark and their two kids live in one of the McMansions, and you can stay with them while I’m busy. Or you can go hang out with Rhea and Manny at Manny’s Automotive. You think I’m strong? Manny and his helper, Lazarus, would rip a car in half. Or... You can come with me to the studio. You can stay here alone, of course, but...”
“I’ll come with you,” she says quickly.
I nod, and I’m happy when she steps closer. Through the sweet aroma of the vanilla and eucalyptus stress-relieving body wash and shampoo set I ordered for her, I smell something else. Arousal.
Or maybe not. I could be just wishing for things.
“Thanks! You’ll love it. It’s a really nice little studio. Um. During the nights when the mentees cover, I typically pull all-nighters downstairs in my ‘man cave.’ I do— I do things you can’t interrupt.”
“Like live interview recordings and meetings with people in other time zones?” Loretta nods seriously.
More likeInterview with a Werewolf, I think, but I nod back. “If you want to stay somewhere else during those three nights, I can put you up in a hotel.”
“Oh, because Ari’s crying might disturb the recording?”
“No, no. The room is soundproof.” Well, that’s a good excuse for all the padding in there. I’ll have to put some equipment down there tonight, just in case she looks. It feels wrong and dirty to keep secrets from her.
It feels worse to scare her. She won’t believe in werewolves, and she certainly won’t believe we can be harmless with the right precautions.
I know that look. That’s the look my dad has about his remote-control airplanes and model trains. Is that room off-limits?”
“N-no. Just for those couple days a month,” I explain. “It also has a lock on the inside of the door, so once I go down to the basement, I can lock the door, and then no one can wander in accidentally. I—I thought when I bought the house that I’d be married with kids by now, and you know how kids will burst in on anyone, at any time.”
“I do.”
“You can go see it—but right now it’s just very beige, and there are just some blankets, snacks, and stuff in there.”
Loretta pauses. “You know, this is how horror movies start,” she tries to laugh, but fails.
“I just want you to see it so you know I don’t have secrets from you, and so you know what’s in the house. Because I hope you’ll be staying here for a while,” I clear my throat. “I know, you get on the phone with your mom and dad and talk to them while you poke around. That way, if I suddenly turn ‘horror movie’ on you, someone would know, and they have my address.”
Loretta fixes me with a look that I don’t fully understand. Something appraising, critical, and with a little hint of—admiration? “You know, I trust you. I’m still going to do it, but I trust you. I’m going to do that because it’s smart, and because I have a daughter to think of. I can’t become a statistic. Well, not another one.”
“You want to carry a kitchen knife or something?”
“No, because that’s howyourhorror movie would start. The pretty women who look innocent are deadly, like those creepy baby dolls.”
We share a shudder. “I don’t like those old porcelain dolls,” I make a face. “They just look like they’re—”
“Waiting to come to life and take your soul?”
“Exactly.”
