Very, very bad.
"So," she said to Shane as they walked home, arms linked, hands in their pockets to hide from the icy, whipping chill of the wind. "What am I going to say to Eve? Or, God, to Michael?"
"Nothing," Shane said.
"But you said I should - "
"I reconsidered. I'm not Oliver's messenger monkey, and neither are you. If he wants to play Lord of the Manor with those two, he can come do it himself." Shane grinned fiercely. "I would pay to see that. Michael does not like to be told he can't do something. Especially something to do with Eve."
"Do you think - " Oh, this was dangerous territory, and Claire hesitated before taking a step into it. Filled with land mines, this was. "God, I can't believe I'm asking this, but . . . do you think Michael's really serious about her? I mean, you know him better than I do. Longer, anyway. I get the sense, sometimes, that he has . . . doubts."
Shane was silent for a long moment - too long, she thought - and then he said, "You're asking if he's serious about loving her?"
"No, I know he loves her. But marrying her . . ."
"Marriage is a big word for all guys," Shane said. "You know that. It's kind of an allergy. We get itchy and sweaty just trying to spell it, much less do it."
"So you think he's nervous?"
"I think . . . I think it's a big deal. Bigger for him and Eve than for most people." Shane kept his eyes down, fixed on the sidewalk and the steps they were taking. "Look, ask him, okay? This is girl talk. I don't do girl talk."
She punched him in the shoulder. "Ass."
"That's better. I was starting to feel like we should go shoe shopping or something."
"Being a girl is not a bad thing!"
"No." He took his hand out of his pocket and put his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close. "If I could be half the girl you are, I'd be - Wow, I have no idea where I was going with that, and it just turned out uncomfortable, all of a sudden."
"Jackass."
"You like being a girl - that's good. I like being a guy - that's also good."
"Next you'll be all Me, Tarzan, you, Jane! "
"I've seen you stick arrows in vampires. Not too damn likely I'd be thumping my chest and trying to tell you I wear the loincloth around here."
"And you changed the subject. Michael. Eve."
He held up his left hand. "I swear, I have no idea what Michael's thinking. Guys don't spend all their time trying to mind-read each other."
"But - "
"Like I said. If you want to know, ask him. Michael doesn't lie worth a damn, anyway. Not to people he cares about."
That was true, or at least it always had been before. A particularly cold slash of wind cut at the exposed skin of Claire's throat and face, and she shivered and burrowed closer to Shane's warm side.
"Before you ask," Shane said, bending his head low to hers, "I love you."
"I wasn't going to ask."
"Oh, you were going there in your head. And I love you. Now it's your turn."
She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face, or the warmth that burst up inside her, a summer contrast to the winter's day. "Well, you know, I'm still analyzing how I feel, in my completely girly way."
"Oh, now, that's just low."
She turned, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him. Shane's lips were chilled and a little dry, but they warmed up, and a lick of her tongue softened the kiss into silk and velvet. He tasted like coffee and caramel and a dark, spiced undertone that was all his own. A taste she craved, every day, every hour, every minute.