The Alien's Little Sister (Stolen by an Alien #8) - Amanda Milo Page 0,58
is civil, right?
Gaze panicked—but still meeting mine full on—he stutters, “I wanted to shake your hand, sir.”
“You’re doing it,” I say flatly.
Stacy makes a noise and Inara—traitor—slaps me on the top of my foot with her tail.
Christian glances over at her as if noticing her other-ness for the first time. “Cool costumes you’ve got here, Mr. Shawnessy,” the kid says.
“Thank you.” I offer this sincerely enough. Even if Inara is way beyond the abilities of any costume. It’s sort of like he’s complimenting my woman’s looks, which is polite manners I approve of.
I’m still not letting go of his hand.
Christian is starting to get (more) nervous about this.
“Let his hand go!” Stacy hisses.
“I can’t,” the boy croaks out.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Stacy intones, sounding like someone whose head will be doing a 180 unless they see an exorcist soon.
Inara’s tail taps the top of my foot again, and I very gently release young Bambi’s hand. In a very well-behaved voice, I praise him with, “I see you got our girl back from her b-day celebration in one piece. You may live.”
Stacy makes a noise. It’s a scary one.
Inara’s tail twitches on my foot. She also makes a noise—but it’s hers that has me releasing the boy from my killing laser beams.
(He sags the moment my eyes slide off of him.)
I turn to Inara. “Did you just laugh?”
Eyes downcast in shame as Stacy stares at her in betrayment (it’s a word now), Inara shakes her little horns and lies through her teeth. “No!”
I catch her and drag her up onto her toes, until her mouth is an inch from mine. I search her face, stare into her cerulean eyes, feeling a million miles tall to see she’s not mad or upset or disapproving or worried. She’s… happy. She’s trying to hide it, but she’s happy. “Kiss me,” I order her.
She puts her hands on my chest, but she doesn’t try to push me back. “Matt,” she chides in a voice so cute I don’t feel scolded the least little bit, “Christian came all the way in here to say something to you,” she reminds me.
True. He did. And he has been holding up admirably well. I fold Inara into a smooth side-hug and cut the shit. The moment my eyes lock on him, he straightens like he’s been shoved in front of a twelve-man firing squad. And doesn’t that make me feel like the top dog. “Christian, I’m proud of you for taking care of Stacy. I also appreciate that you got her to work on time, and you drove safely. Good man,” I tell him—meaning it.
Christian’s lower lids shine up so glossy it looks like he shellacked his waterline.
I have four sisters. I know what a waterline is.
“Thank you, Mr. Shawnessy—” he starts.
I hold out my hand again for him to shake—no menace this time. “It’s Matt. And coming in here took guts. Good for you.”
I politely do not notice or comment on his reddening eyes, and he takes his real handshake like a man. I nod to him and Stacy, and leave the two of them to say their goodbyes in as much privacy as a business waiting room offers.
I make it two steps away from them and one step past Inara when my alien velociraptor shrieks and leaps on me, rewarding me wildly with kisses.
***
Sal and Jason arrive, Stacy trots behind her counter looking like sunshine itself is bursting out of her face, and I’ve got Inara’s lipstick on my collar. I’m a reasonably happy man. (Who’s racking up a hell of a dry-cleaning bill, but I’m still a happy man.)
Stacy flags down Inara with a thank you note, on account of Inara being the reason I’m turning more reasonable. Inara brings the note to me with a question.
Before she asks it, she shuts my office door.
She sets her iPad knockoff on my desk, hitting buttons on it until it’s playing music out loud.
“The iSquid has decent speakers? I ask, thrown. “That’s a surprise.”
“Decent enough to cover noises if I have my way with you,” she purrs, all fangs and danger-teeth. She grabs me by my tie. Ice blue today to match her stripes, and it looks fabulous wrapped around her clawed hand.
“Sign me up,” I say with feeling.
She frowns and stops. “Sign you up for what?”
I wave her question away. “For you having your way with me—forget it, just come at me.”