shallow. You just like what you like. And if you can afford it, who cares? I just assumed you’d feel sorry for me and you’d break out the kid gloves and there’d be a lot of ‘oh, the poor, poor Stable, best leave her alone, poor traumatized thing.’”
“Poor Stable?” he asked, astonished. “You?”
“I should have talked to you,” she replied. “I’m sorry I assumed the worst.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for. My God, thanks to your choice in suburban neighborhoods, you could have been killed!”
“Multiple times,” she added.
“Christ, don’t remind me. You don’t owe anyone an apology, and that includes the fucknut who tried to shoot you.”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” She’d asked the question so abruptly, she was as surprised as Oz to hear it come out of her mouth. “I haven’t, if you want full disclosure. Harriss and what’s-his-face will live. But I was just wondering. You didn’t seem put off by the violence. You didn’t even look at the guy I shot. Those aren’t criticisms,” she added. “It was just…interesting. You’ve obviously been in fights. So that got me wondering if you’d killed someone.”
“Not for months and months. You know that saying, ‘it’s like riding a bike’? It’s not like riding a bike.”
“You’re gonna tell me all about it, right?”
“Yep. You’re not worried about the gory details?”
“Nope. We’ll save that for date two-and-a-half.” To an outsider, Lila figured they sounded incredibly flip and far too casual about life-and-death matters. But it wasn’t about being flip, it was about information overload. A lot had happened; they all needed to process. And she had questions. But now, just now, she needed a break from recent, potentially lethal events.
“Two-and-a-half? So it’s official. The movie palace counts, and Meritage counts as half a date.”
“Yep.”
“Pretty arbitrary.”
“Yep.”
He turned and snuggled up behind her. “Tell me again about learning CPR and suturing and how to work a defibrillator for spite.”
“A closed chest massage is surprisingly hard work. Tell me about werewolf birth control.”
“Um. Okay.”
“I’ve got the implant,” she explained. “So I can’t get pregnant, but it doesn’t protect against STDs.”
“Then I’ve got good news. Shifters can’t catch Stable STDs and vice versa.”
“That sounds made-up.”
“What?” He propped himself up on an elbow as she rolled on her back to look up at him. “Why?”
“Because it’s just the kind of thing a guy who hates condoms would say to get out of wearing a condom.”
“It’s true!” he protested. “Ask anybody. Well, maybe not anybody. Ask Annette or David. Keep Mama and Nadia out of it if at all possible.”
“I’m choosing to believe you because you know I’m a trigger-happy firebug, so I don’t think you’d risk lying about anything major.”
“Anything major?”
“Well, obviously you’ll still lie about dumb stuff like who used the last of the toilet paper or whose turn is it to go down on the other person.”
“This is the sexiest conversation I’ve ever had about sex without actually having sex.”
“That’s because you’re a lucky, lucky man.”
“I know you’re being sarcastic, but it’s true.”
And he dropped a kiss to her smiling lips.
* * *
13. These exist! Amazon has everything.
Chapter 57
Lila knocked on the farmhouse door, which was yanked open halfway through the second knock. “Hi!” she said. “Remember me?”
The farmer in whose field Sue and Sam Smalls crashed nodded and looked over Lila’s shoulder, noting Berne, Garsea, and Oz. “The number one Realtor in Fargo. Did you get business cards? Have you come to show the field again?”
“No and yes. And I’ve come to confess.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not a real estate agent.”
“No shit.”
“You wound me, madam!” Lila shrugged. “Fine, you got me. I could be a Realtor, if I wasn’t deathly allergic to closings and real estate licensing exams. Also, are you harboring a terribly injured man who bailed from the plane that crashed on your property and you’re opening the door wider and you’re beckoning us inside so the answer is yes. Excellent.”
Wendy smiled, and it transformed her wary expression into something bright and welcoming. She was short and chubby, with long black hair pulled back in a braid, and small, wide-set hazel eyes. Her hands were beautiful, not at all the way Lila assumed a farmer’s hands would look. Wendy had the delicate wrists and long, elegant fingers of a hand model. “Well, finally. Poor guy’s been going stir-crazy all week. C’mon.”
She led them past a sunny living room and up the stairs, walked to the end of the hallway, rapped softly on a closed door, then opened it. “Hey, Sam,” she called softly.