Page 23

I stop my dreaming with a shake of my head.

“What is it?” my ever-observant protector asks.

“I never had a home with Matteo,” I murmur. “He had an apartment in Miami, but he sublet it when we went to Europe for the year.”

Reggie nods as he pulls the blinds shut and tinkers with the AC window unit. I turn on the floor lamps in the living room and the overhead lights in the dining room. “That’s pretty common in drug or terrorist organizations. One or two people are on a lease, but whoever is in town can use it.”

I run my hand over the soft, faded velour fabric of the loveseat. Dust rises. “Rust and mustard.”

“Right from the seventies.”

“Should we hang a disco ball?”

He chuckles. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s fine. Honest.” I flash him a smile.

“That isn’t fooling anyone, let alone your hubby,” Reggie winks.

“Well, if we’re going to work on our backstories, this is a good place to start.” With a groan, I sit on one side of the loveseat, and dust flies up around me. Reggie hesitates, then sits in therecliner nearest me, but he keeps his chair (and body) locked and alert.

“Growing up, I watched my parents struggle along, raising four kids in a small, blue-collar/agricultural town in the south. Pretty or athletic girls did better than brainy girls, according to my mother. She wanted us in sports or beauty pageants, on the cheerleading squad, or dating the captain of the team. Life had really clear expectations. Stay pretty, go to college only if you haven’t already got a job lined up and you’re not pregnant. Look for a steady, cute boyfriend and have your wedding the summer after you finish high school, or if you’re ‘brainy,’ after college.”

Reggie nods along as I talk, but his face doesn’t show disgust. It almost looks wistful.

“It wasn’t all that great if you couldn’t tell. That life is like living in a cookie-cutter factory. Each girl comes out looking and acting the same.”

“It sounds stifling. It also sounds like you had a community. People who knew you and watched you grow up. Pine Ridge offers that—but with a great deal of variety. With as many supernatural beings that live here, not to mention the college campus...” He shrugs. “You didn’t fit into your community?”

“Not so much.”

“I often feel I don’t fit into mine, either—but still. I have friends, particularly Jakob. There are so many kind people here in Pine Ridge, so many who accept others without question. I was happy to come here and settle after the war, to watch the town mature and change, and to even play a role in it.” His square jaw seems even more massive as he grins at me. “Can you imagine working in one town for over seventy years? I have. I’ve been the community servant, the ever-ready plumber. In a little town like this, being someone who can really assist others makes you feel needed. Wanted. Even... Even loved, in a way. That’s kept me happy most of the time.”

“I’m glad you found support here and that you have a friend like Mr. Minegold. It’s wonderful that you are able to have a business where people need you and make you feel like you belong. I didn’t find support in my hometown or with my mother and sisters. I didn’t get pregnant, I didn’t get married. I was ‘so cute, such a waste.’ People openly wondered why I felt I was too good for a decent, hard-working local boy?” I shake my head at the folly of it. “I guess I thought I was.”

“More likely you wanted to see if a man would appreciate you for you, not just another cookie-cutter bride.”

Reggie's words give me hope that my colossal mistake was at least a little bit justified.

“I didn’t even get one of the acceptable degrees—nursing or teaching.”

“I’m sorry, this is a story about you, right? Not some ancestor?”

He makes me laugh, even in the middle of my pity party. “When a guy from the forties tells you that... Yeah. You can see how backwards my neck of the woods was. Anyway, when one of my college friends got engaged, she held her bachelorette weekend in Miami. I’d never even been on a plane before, and I was twenty-five! I got to live my fantasy out for a weekend. Drank, partied, had fun, and met a tall, dark, and handsome bad boy-type.” I put my chin in my hands. “Confession—I read a lot of romance books in college. My favorites were the kind where the men wore dark suits, dropped diamonds at your feet, and lived the high life. Matteo did all of those things.”And more.I don’t want to think about the boundary-pushing, orgasm-inducing sex, the first real pleasure I’d ever had with someone.

With an effort, I stop myself from wondering what Reggie would do with me. Would I be his first? Would his hulking, musclebound form, magical abilities, and smooth, cool skin make me prickle with passion?

“It’s okay, Teri. A lot of people get hooked on a fantasy and confuse it with reality,” Reggie soothes.

“I sure did. Guess what? Those books end when the billionaire marries Ms. Joanne Average. My romance with Matteo didn’t. It went on, and it got hollow. He wanted a sexy girl to sleep with and show off. Yes, he spoiled me with attention in the form of fancy dinners and weekends on the beach, but... Now I realize how secretive he was, how little I knew about his life or his family. I never even knew the name of his company. Did I ask? Sure. Did I press? No. He told me things like, ‘I consult for a lot of companies.’ ‘I have a lot of different clients.’ Damn it! I really was the poster child for ‘Marry in haste, repent in leisure.’” I feel the hot, angry-at-myself-angrier-at-him tears start flowing. “I thought we’d get to know each other as we went!Whydid I think that?”

An arm slides around my shoulders as they hunch, and a warm, solid weight sinks into the cushion next to me. “I think it’s because you’re a person who only keepsgoodsecrets and good surprises for others. My instincts see you as honest. If you hide something, it’s for the greater good. You clicked with Delgado, so... you thought he was the same kind of person. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. I wish I thought of people like that. That they’d turn out to be fun to get to know. That you can trust life to put good people in your path.”

I snuffle into his shoulder. “You’re in my path. And I’m in your path. Isn’t that something?”

His lips briefly press the top of my head. “I hope so.”

THERESE IS MY KRYPTONITE. My truth serum. Simply taking her in my arms makes my chest loosen and flood with warm, relaxed feelings. I start telling her about the way Pine Ridge was in the 1950s, how I watched hundreds of families come andgo, how I set up lots of washers, garbage disposals, and other “modern wonders” for happy little housewives. How I got bitter. How I closed myself off as the fifties turned into the sixties, seventies, eighties, and the decades kept rolling. Technology got better and better, but pipes and toilets stayed stubbornly necessary. How love in this town hasn’t changed. There are hundreds of happy couples, human ones, monster ones, even half-monster, half-human families—and I’m still alone. Waiting. Waiting to end or to begin, I’ve lost track. I just talk. I talk more to her than I have to anyone else in years.