Page 19 of The Beast's Betrayed Mate
They rode up in silence until she commented, “Marshall seems nice.”
“Oh, he’s the best,” Peter agreed.
The elevator dinged merrily, the doors sliding open.
It was as though nothing extraordinary had taken place at all. Everything was as it always had been. It boggled her mind that, out of all the people they ran into every day, they were the only ones that knew that the world wasn’t as it seemed. Or, at least the only ones that knew that it wasn’t as it seemed on the level that they knew. Because the world was different for everyone and what she might think the world was might not be what it was to the next person.
“You look like you’re concentrating on solving world hunger,” Peter remarked. “You okay?”
“Loaded question,” she shot back, and he nodded his agreement.
“Ah! There you are!” The loudness of the voice made them both alerted to how they were no longer alone as Myrtle came hurtling down the corridor towards them.
“I got you a new door, you… you…” She trailed off, her eyes catching up to the fact that her nerdy but handsome neighbor was practically in nothing but his birthday suit. “Oh,” she added. “Oh, my.” She took a moment to gather herself before she asked, in an almost accusatory tone, as though he should know better than to dangle himself like a piece of meat in front of her, “What in the world happened to you?”
Less discreet than Marshall, that was for sure.
Of course, her paycheck didn’t depend on her discretion.
“He got mugged,” Olive said.
“Well, where’s that dog?” Myrtle asked.
“Oh, it ran off… We were in the park, calling for it, when these men… big men… came and just took everything Peter… was wearing.” Olive looked to Peter for support, ignoring the mild amusement on his face.
“That’s right, Mrs. Rafael,” he nodded. “Even my Bjorn Borg underwear.”
“That’s awful,” she said, hand at her heart. “And Riley?”
Olive frowned, Peter giving Myrtle a blank look, and then they both remembered at the same moment. “Oh, the dog,” Olive exclaimed. “He’ll find his way back home. He’s run off before, hasn’t he, Peter? Total flight risk. But at least you have a new door. Thank you, Mrs. Rafael.”
“Yes, thank you,” Peter agreed.
“It was no trouble,” she said. “Perhaps it was a little bit of a hassle but nothing too imposing. I don’t have that much to do during the day anyway. The landlord left a note for you. And the bill. It was pretty costly.”
“I expected as much,” Peter said.
She lingered in the hallway and Peter frowned at her. It was perfectly clear to Olive that Myrtle wasn’t going to accept no payment for the hassle. Even though it had already cost Peter a pretty penny.
“I have your key,” she said, bringing it out of her pocket demonstratively. She wanted him to know he really owed her.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Coffee tomorrow?” she asked innocently and Olive suppressed a smile.
First, because Myrtle had no way of knowing that she was making plans with the very dog that scared her half to death a mere hour earlier. Secondly, because Myrtle was clearly lonely and a little loud and Olive had to admire how smartly she’d played her hand.
“Sure,” Peter smiled, looking like he meant it, which caught Olive slightly off guard. He grabbed the key. “I’ll text you, okay?” he added, and Myrtle returned the smile.
She shuffled off as Peter unlocked the brand-spanking new door that looked exactly uniform with the rest of the polished wooden doors in the apartment building. Olive watched as he headed inside, noting that he left the door open. As he had earlier that morning, he again expected her to follow. She lingered in the hallway for a good ten seconds before she did.
She was still arguing with herself about why she wasn’t forgetting the stupid jacket and leaving immediately, but she was fooling herself if she thought she could simply go home now. What was she supposed to do? Pretend everything was normal? What was Peter going to do? Roll into work as though nothing had changed?
There were still every single question mark they’d tried to straighten out that morning to contend with, beginning with why there had been a wolf guarding Michael’s house in the first place.
Olive pushed the door open, thinking it was a really nice door, however uniform it might be. She closed it behind her, locking it to be sure. Not that it would stop the wolf if it came after them. The thought made goosebumps spread up her arms.
Peter came out of his bedroom door, wearing sweats and a T-shirt. He needed a shower but looked ready for another snooze. Not that he looked bad, or even that worn, but she could tell he was tired. To her surprise, he went to the fridge and took out two beers. He didn’t ask if she wanted one, merely handed it to her. She appreciated it.
