the sooner to see his face. He grinned his crooked smile at me, stopping my breath and my heart. I couldn't imagine how an angel could be any more glorious. There was nothing about him that could be improved upon.
"How did you sleep?" he asked. I wondered if he had any idea how appealing his voice was.
"Fine. How was your night?"
"Pleasant." His smile was amused; I felt like I was missing an inside joke.
"Can I ask what you did?" I asked.
"No." He grinned. "Today is still mine."
He wanted to know about people today: more about Renée, her hobbies, what we'd done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I'd
known, my few school friends - embarrassing me when he asked about boys I'd dated. I was relieved that I'd never really dated anyone, so that particular conversation couldn't last long. He seemed as surprised as Jessica and Angela by my lack of romantic history.
"So you never met anyone you wanted?" he asked in a serious tone that made me wonder what he was thinking about.
I was grudgingly honest. "Not in Phoenix."
His lips pressed together into a hard line.
We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the blur that was rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of his brief pause to take a bite of my bagel.
"I should have let you drive yourself today," he announced, apropos of nothing, while I chewed.
"Why?" I demanded.
"I'm leaving with Alice after lunch."
"Oh." I blinked, bewildered and disappointed. "That's okay, it's not that far of a walk."
He frowned at me impatiently. "I'm not going to make you walk home. We'll go get your truck and leave it here for you."
"I don't have my key with me," I sighed. "I really don't mind walking." What I minded was losing my time with him.
He shook his head. "Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition - unless you're afraid someone might steal it." He laughed at the thought.
"All right," I agreed, pursing my lips. I was pretty sure my key was in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry room. Even if he broke into my house, or whatever he was planning, he'd never find it. He seemed to feel the challenge in my consent. He smirked, overconfident.
"So where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.
"Hunting," he answered grimly. "If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." His face grew morose... and pleading. "You can always cancel, you know."
I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear him, no matter how real the danger might be. It doesn't matter, I repeated in my head.
"No," I whispered, glancing back at his face. "I can't."
"Perhaps you're right," he murmured bleakly. His eyes seemed to darken in color as I watched.
I changed the subject. "What time will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, already depressed by the thought of him leaving now.
"That depends... it's a Saturday, don't you want to sleep in?" he offered.
"No," I answered too fast. He restrained a smile.
"The same time as usual, then," he decided. "Will Charlie be there?"
"No, he's fishing tomorrow." I beamed at the memory of how conveniently things had worked out.
His voice turned sharp. "And if you don't come home, what will he think?"
"I have no idea," I answered coolly. "He knows I've been meaning to do
the laundry. Maybe he'll think I fell in the washer."
He scowled at me and I scowled back. His anger was much more impressive than mine.
"What are you hunting tonight?" I asked when I was sure I had lost the glowering contest.
"Whatever we find in the park. We aren't going far." He seemed bemused by my casual reference to his secret realities.
"Why are you going with Alice?" I wondered.
"Alice is the most... supportive." He frowned as he spoke.
"And the others?" I asked timidly. "What are they?"
His brow puckered for a brief moment. "Incredulous, for the most part."
I peeked quickly behind me at his family. They sat staring off in different directions, exactly the same as the first time I'd seen them. Only now they were four; their beautiful, bronze-haired brother sat across from me, his golden eyes troubled.
"They don't like me," I guessed.
"That's not it," he disagreed, but his eyes were too innocent. "They don't understand why I can't leave you alone."
I