Page 20 of A Cock and Bull Story

“Ineed to use the restroom,” Belle announces.

None of us say anything as she gets up and walks into the bathroom, firmly shutting the door behind her. A wooden sign clangs against it. I squint, reading the words:

GO AWAY—I’M BATIN’

I open my mouth and promptly shut it.

That can’t possibly mean what I think. . . then again, she just drop-kicked a rubber John Thomas under her sofa—a sign about beating the bishop seems likely given the evidence.

“I think Belle’s in shock,” Jude whispers. “She just found out that one of her parents is a shifter and, then, saw another one kill an innocent woman.”

“How do we know she was innocent?” Jack tosses out like the ass he is.

Jude gives him a sour look.

“Don’t be a wanker,” he snaps, and I laugh, pointing to Belle’s sign that the others hadn’t seen.

“Is she. . . some kind of sexual pervert?” Arthur ventures in a hushed voice.

“I knew we liked her!” Sian crows.

“I didn’t say that I didn’t!” Arthur counters fiercely. “There’s nothing wrong if she is!”

Jack chortles.

“Anyone that buff can pervert on me whenever,” he grins, and Elise throws a pillow at his head.

“Maybe she’s a high-end prozzy?” I offer.

Jack tips his head.

“Huh, maybe. . . she didn’t chargemethough—and buggery always cost more.”

Elise throwsanotherpillow at him.

“Stop rubbing it in that you got a leg over with her. Also, how do you knowthatcosts more? Are you a curb crawler now?”

“It would make more sense if it were cheaper,” Jude chimes in thoughtfully, and we all look at him askance. “What? Buggery never got a woman up the duff.”

Before anyone can comment, there’s a knock at the door. Instantly, we all tense. Jude immediately stands and marches over to the door, sniffing and peering out. After a second, he swings it open. An attractive older woman in a business suit stands there.

“Good evening,” Jude tells her. “Belle is busy at the second, but she’ll be right out.”

From his stance, I know Jude is assessing the stranger. I can smell that she’s human, but my senses aren’t the best out of water. I’m pretty much the most useless shifter unless something disastrous happens at a swim party.

The tall woman places a hand on her hip.

“I’m here for Taco Tuesday—what are you doing here?” she demands almost rudely.

Ever the overly correct gentleman, Jude goes, “It’s Thursday.”

The woman narrows her eyes.

“I know that. It’s a rain date,” she snaps. “So, again—why are you here?”

“Ummmmm. . .” Jude mumbles, clearly at a loss. “There was an incident, and we’re helping Belle. We didn’t know she was having a. . . taco party.”

“Well, it looks like a sausage fest to me!” the stranger snorts.