Page 37 of Willing Prey

THIRTY-ONE

Claire

To Shane’s dismay, I don’t immediately move in with him.

I considered it, but decided to wait and see where we are when the apartment’s lease ends.

September sneaks up on us, the rest of the summer flying by in a blur of hunts, hiking dates, and way too many episodes of Real Estate Wreck .

All too soon, school’s back in session. However, the end of my apartment lease is welcome.

When it arrives, I act like I’m considering renewing the lease without Sydney. Shane riots in the most Shane-like way possible and makes a PowerPoint detailing the reasons I must move in with him. I let him get halfway through before admitting I’m fucking with him.

It’s November 1, and I’ve been living here for three weeks. Gretchen has moved in with her daughter. Margot and I are two peas in a people-pleasing pod, and I still haven’t given up on getting her to fire her miserable client.

I’m plucking a rogue chin hair when my phone chimes on the bathroom counter.

Picking it up no longer gives me an anxiety spike.

I haven’t unblocked Keith’s number. The satisfaction I felt knowing he was trying to contact me, and I was ignoring him, pales in comparison to my current happiness.

Shane says they rarely cross paths at the firm, and I’m not sure which one of them is responsible for that. Swiping my phone open, I read the text.

Shane Underwood: Almost home, little deer. Let’s say I’m sick and skip tonight. *cough* *cough*

Shane Underwood: We’d have the house to ourselves…

Caine’s been staying in the guest room I used to occupy while he works at the Abattoir.

Though he’s going to the charity event with us tonight, he’s usually out till all hours creeping and crawling anyway.

The promise of an empty house for sexy hide-and-seek isn’t as tempting as Shane would like it to be.

After I spent an hour doing my hair and makeup? Not a chance , I respond.

I’m not particularly eager to go to a silent auction, but this one’s benefiting Pawsitively Perfect Pet Rescue, which is run by Marianna Crowe, the wife of one of Shane’s partners.

Margot volunteers at the rescue and helped plan tonight’s event.

I also want to support her, so we are not skipping.

It’s a worthy cause, and an opportunity to push Shane a smidge closer to adopting a dog.

If they play a slideshow of canine senior citizens looking for good homes, he’ll be putty in their paws. So far, his only argument against getting a dog has been that it’s easier not to. Ridiculous coming from a man who makes so many things in his life far more challenging than they need to be.

Stepping back from the mirror, I give myself a once-over.

Not too shabby. A clingy navy-blue midi dress with a low neckline and long sleeves.

I haven’t worn it since last winter, and it’s snugger than I remembered, so I broke out the shapewear.

I’ve pulled my hair into an updo of sorts, leaving enough pieces loose so that if it starts coming apart, it should pass as intentionally “undone.” Hopefully.

There’s a chance Keith and Naomi could be there tonight, and I’m petty enough to admit that I’d like to look a little nicer than I did the last time I saw them.

Plus, there’s that law of the universe dictating that one will only run into an ex when looking their absolute worst. Wear something sloppy and have a bad case of hormonal acne?

Every person I’ve ever dated will somehow cross my path.

There’s a chance the reverse is true, and if getting fancied up increases my odds of not seeing Keith? I’ll go full glam.

Finally satisfied, I hit the light switch and head into the bedroom. Sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed, I slip my heels on. I’m fastening the second shoe when there’s a knock on the door followed by Caine’s voice. “Can I come in?”

Scanning the room to make sure nothing personal is out, I decide it’s safe. “Yeah.”

Popping into the room, he holds out his hands, a tie in each. “I need a woman’s perspective. Which one of these is better?”

Squinting, I try to find a difference. Both ties are black, like his shirt, jacket, and pants. “They look the same.”

With a sigh, he steps closer. It’s only then I realize there’s a subtle light-black-on-darker-black pattern on both. Skeletons in the left hand, butterflies—or maybe moths?—in the right.

He fidgets, and I fight a smile. “The auction benefits dogs, and dogs like bones, so…”

“Skeletons it is.” Caine heads for the bathroom, adding, “You clean up good.”

Downstairs, the front door slams.

“Thanks,” I say, rising from the bed. A glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand shows Shane’s going to have to hustle to get ready.

Footsteps hurry up the stairs, and then Shane walks into the room, already undoing his shirt. Pausing, he takes in my dress and lets out a low whistle. Abandoning his buttons, he stalks across the bedroom toward me. Flames lick my cheeks.

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” he murmurs under his breath, eyes intense. “We’re not going anywhere tonight, and you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“We have to go. Think of the dogs.” I scuttle sideways as he lunges for me. Snagging my arm, he pulls my back to his chest, keeping me upright as my heels skitter across the floor.

He scoffs, his breath on my neck making me shiver. “Fuck the dogs. I’m going to—”

“Nope. That’s bestiality.” Caine’s voice rings out from the bathroom, his words echoing off the tiles.

Shane’s frustrated exhale sends another tingle streaking down my spine. Keeping an arm hooked above my breasts, his other hand gripping my waist, Shane turns us to face the bathroom doorway, and Caine. “What are you doing in here?”

“Tying my tie. Claire picked it.” He shakes his head at Shane, who’s, of course, still in his work clothes. “Don’t you know this is a classy event? Show some respect for the dogs you want to fuck.”

With a groan, Shane releases me, moving toward the closet. “Isn’t there something I can spray to get you to stop haunting our house?”

The “our house” makes me smile as I settle back onto the edge of the mattress.

“Nope, I’m only allergic to shellfish, remember?” He follows Shane into the large walk-in closet, his voice muffled by the wall. “So unless you want to fill a Super Soaker with clam juice, you are shit out of luck.”

I text Sydney while I listen to them bicker, only getting involved when Caine orders me to veto a dark brown suit Shane wants to wear. By the time we’re walking out the door, my cheeks ache from smiling. Tonight is going to be fun.

· · ·

The event is held in a swanky hotel, the kind with a doorman and a chandelier in the lobby.

Caine vanishes within moments of arrival to look for Margot.

It’s not a black-tie affair, but Shane looks good enough to eat, his suit hugging his bulky body in all the right places.

Getting to the ballroom where the auction is taking place is a process.

For as reclusive as he is, Shane knows too many people.

Smile and nod, smile and nod.

Suffering through introduction after introduction, I give up trying to remember names.

We’ve barely stepped inside the ballroom when Shane is cornered by yet another person wanting to talk shop.

As soon as it’s acceptable, I excuse myself to peruse the auction.

Local businesses have donated services and gift certificates, but their offerings don’t interest me as much as the easels throughout the room.

Every easel holds a large plastic sign featuring photos of an adoptable dog and his or her story.

Pausing to examine each one, I try to guess which will be the most likely to tug at Shane’s heartstrings.

I could love a pit bull as easily as a Pomeranian, so it’s a matter of finding a dog he can’t resist. Parked in front of a picture of Ralph, a Rottweiler cross with a graying muzzle that gives him a distinguished appearance, I flinch when a voice jars me from my thoughts.

“You would be looking at the dogs instead of what’s up for auction.”

So much for never running into an ex when you look good.

Dread, resignation, and something akin to exhaustion overwhelm me.

Against my better judgment, I turn to Keith.

That twinge of pain is still there, but it’s fainter than the last time I saw him.

It’s even duller than when my leg flares up.

I look around the room for Naomi and can’t find her.

The ballroom is massive and full of people.

I picture Margot lurking with a drink, prepared to baptize Naomi again, and hold back a smile. “Is Naomi here?”

Keith shakes his head, green eyes trained on mine. His step closer makes me want to take a step back, but I hold my ground. “I’d like to talk to you. Maybe somewhere quieter?”

I go for neutral. “I’d prefer to stay here.”

“Right. Well, how are you, then?” Keith’s smiling, but it isn’t his real one.

After eleven years of marriage, there’s no such thing as a poker face.

The tightness around his eyes, the way he’s hooking a thumb into his pocket, and the fine line between his eyebrows are all tells. He’s angry, but hiding it.

It throws me off-balance. He wasn’t mad when I saw him at the Alley. I almost tumble into old habits, the urge to ask what’s wrong and then fix it so visceral that containing it feels like trying to hold back a sneeze. “Fine, thanks. How are you?”

“I’m all right. Be better if you hadn’t blocked me,” he says with a playful wince and a hand over his heart as if I’ve wounded him.

“Will you at least tell me what I did so I can apologize? Or are you going to make me guess?” His inflection might make an eavesdropper think he’s teasing me, that this is all in good fun.

Only I know there’s a blade under the sugary tone he’s keeping cotton candy light.