Page 10 of Don't Bite the Boy Next Door
‘Well, you do work in a funeral home, and you have run each time you’ve seen him, so…’
“She’s shy,” Pru says, turning to look at me and shaking her head as though I am a crazy person which, let’s face it, is exactly how I look right now, “and a bit of a recluse, but when you get to know her I’m sure you will be friends.”
“Sure,” he says, smiling gently at me, “if you need anything, let me know. Although it seems like your sister is doing a good job of looking after you.”
“Oh, I’m only here for a week or so,” Pru adds quickly. “Tess lives by herself.”
“And my pets,” I murmur, having rediscovered the ability to speak now that my fangs were settling back down.
“Right,” he says, studying me briefly before turning his attention back to Pru, “well like I say, if either of you need anything, let me know.”
“We will,” Pru smiles, “so tell me, is Mrs Spencer joining you anytime soon?”
He snorts gently, obviously aware of her ulterior motive in questioning him. As a handsome man in a small town, I imagine he has had this question several times now, most frequently from single women.
“I’m not married,” he says quietly.
“No special friend coming to stay for the holidays then?” she prompts.
‘God, Pru, you may as well just come out and ask if he’s gay!’
“It’s just me and Toto living here.” He points to the small, mangy little dog sitting at his feet and gazing at him with adoring, liquid eyes.
“Oh,” Pru says, turning to me with a totally fake wide-eyed look, “then you really should join us for Christmas, shouldn’t he Tess?”
I swallow hard and try to hide my despair at her suggestion, but I needn’t have bothered.
“Thank you, but no,” he says quietly, “I prefer my own company, it’s why I moved here. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“Are you sure?” Pru smiles sweetly, “it would be wonderful to have someone join us, and we would hate to think of you all alone here on Christmas Day.”
“Like I say,” he takes a sip from his beer, his eyes still on mine, “I like to be alone. I’ve only recently come out of the armed forces; I was constantly surrounded by noise and men. This is my first Christmas back in the States in seven years. If you look around, you’ll see I have plenty to keep me busy, holiday season or not. And I’ve got my stocking,” he adds, smiling to soften his rejection and nodding to an old red sock nailed to the ornate timber fire surround that looks as though it has been half-stripped of ten million layers of paint, but still has a long way to go.
“Where were you stationed?” Pru asks.
“Middle East,” he replies sharply, clearly not wanting to discuss his service in any way.
I frown slightly at his sharp tone, something so at odds with his soft eyes, but I notice too, they have a slightly haunted edge.
“Tess has stockings hung too, don’t you, Tess,” Pru blurts, obviously trying to quickly change the subject and have me engage in conversation.
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Well,” Pru says, finally getting the hint that this was as much socialisation as I could handle for one night, and recognising that Ryan was also no big talker, “it was lovely meeting you, but we best be getting back now before the snow gets any thicker.”
Nodding, and rising, he follows us to the door, but Pru turns before he can close it and adds “don’t be a stranger now,” which makes me giggle.
“What?” she hisses as we walk down the well-shovelled path to the car.
“You really do sound like you are on Little House of the Prairie.”
“And you sound like a demented person,” she rolls her eyes. “How the hell are you going to get to know him if you can’t even open your mouth to speak?”
I open my mouth wide, baring my fangs. Tears, up to now tightly controlled, rolling down my cheeks, unchecked.
“Oh, Tess,” she sighs, “this is going to take a lot more work than I thought.”
“I’ve never met anyone less gay, and more like you, in my life,” she laughs as we drink our blood bags and cuddle the new kittens, “and I think baby bunnies are possibly my new obsession.”
