eleven
He was gone when my alarm went off. I might have convinced myself it was all a dream if the smell of him didn’t permeate the room. Earthy and warm. I pulled the sheets to my nose and inhaled.
My clit clenched.
It had been a long time since I’d been with anyone. I told myself it was fine, since I had a battery-operated boyfriend in my nightstand, better than any man I’d known. The way my body responded to Thurl made a liar of me.
I snickered. Although I guess I might not be lying, since Thurl was definitely not a man.
I was so turned on lying in his arms the night before that my underwear was soaked through.
That was weird, wasn’t it?
He was huge, and scary, with his wicked looking claws (even if they were covered in sparkly purple silicone) and sharp horns. Rationally, I knew the man who attacked me was no longer alive, and that Thurl had killed him.
But all I felt was safe.
Yep, that was weird.
I should probably check myself in for a mental health evaluation. I felt sane, but I was clearly becoming one of those women who write love letters to serial killers in jail.
How many people had he killed? It looked easy for him, so surely that wasn’t his first time.
Did I care?
I examined my emotions and found that no, I did not. And what did that say about me? I shook my head. I wasn’t going to get anywhere with my thoughts. Best if I got dressed and went to work like it was any other day and I hadn’t just spent the night with a monster.
A warm monster who was gentle with me and made me feel safe. Who worried about how I’d react when I saw him. Who seemed vulnerable despite the wicked weapons he sported.
I sighed and rolled out of bed.
Oscar was in the parking lot when I pulled in thirty minutes late.
“Didn’t expect to see you today.”
“Why not?”
He snorted. “I still have my police scanner, you know. I heard about the attack.”
“Oh, right. Well, the doctors said I have a mild concussion and to take it easy, but they didn’t say I had to stay at home. I’d rather be here with my students than moping on the couch watching soap operas.”
He glanced at me as we walked inside. “Didn’t take you for a soap opera girl.”
“I’m not. That’s my point. And it’s hard to find old episodes of Perry Mason .”
He grinned. “Well, if you need anything today, holler.”
He’d walked me all the way to my classroom. “I will.”
His lips turned down. “Anything new with Sophia?”
“No, but she spoke to me last week. That’s progress.”
I stepped into chaos. The school secretary was waving her hands, trying to get the kids’ attention. I’d asked her to cover for me until I could get there, and she was clearly out of her depths. Two of the boys were tearing construction paper into tiny shreds and laughing as they threw them in the air.
Another student had pulled all the books off the shelf and was sitting on top of the pile. One little girl smiled as four of her classmates covered her forearm in colorful artwork. Thank past me for ensuring everything in my classroom was washable.
The relief on the secretary’s face when she spotted me was comical.
“Thank you for looking after them for me.”
Her hand shook as she pushed a lock of gray hair off her face. “No problem.”
Her face and tone made it clear it was an enormous problem. She scurried from the room and I surveyed the damage. Then I clapped twice, and the entire room came to a standstill. The only things that moved were the paper shreds falling slowly onto the floor.
“Take your seats.”
The rest of the day was without incident. I still got caught several times with my head in the clouds. Sophia even spoke to ask if I was feeling okay. I felt fine. I just couldn’t stop thinking about a seven-foot-tall beast. I wondered if he would come again tonight. The thought made me tingle. Which was absurd.
My brain told me I should be afraid of Thurl, but my body disagreed.
I liked to think I was a rational woman of science. I examined the situation like I would a math problem. Stick to the facts.
Thurl had saved me from an unknown attacker who clearly meant for me not to walk away from our encounter. He was aware his size and appearance were overwhelming and made himself seem as small and as nonthreatening as possible. It was clear he was nervous. He didn’t ask for anything from me, and was courteous when I asked things of him.
Ergo, Thurl was one of the good guys.
Or at least, he was, until proven otherwise.
Something clicked in my brain. Like I’d given myself permission to like him, to be attracted to him, no matter his size and appearance. He made me feel safe. It wasn’t until he showed up that I realized how unsafe I’d felt, which was ridiculous because of course, I felt vulnerable; I’d witnessed a murder and been attacked at my own front door.
I slid into my car with giddy energy and laughed. I couldn’t remember the last crush I had. Probably Dwayne Johnson or Jason Momoa. Apparently, big and buff was my type. It made sense. I wanted someone who could pick me up and do things with my body a smaller man would find impossible. I liked my curves, but readily admitted I was a bigger girl.
I had no sooner pulled into my driveway than an unmarked police cruiser pulled in behind me.
“Ms. Massey?”
Close cropped hair pegged the man as former military, but the slight pooch of his belly told me he’d been a cop longer than he served. His suit was neat but not new. His partner emerged from the passenger side holding one of those useless tiny notebooks.
“Yes.”
“I’m Detective Chambers and this is my partner, Detective Drake. We’d like to ask you a few questions about the murder you witnessed. May we come in?”
“Are you allergic to cats?”
Chambers chuckled, but Drake winced.
“No ma’am, we are not.”
I nodded. “Come on in.” I tried not to let the disappointment show on my face. There’s no way Thurl would show with police at my house.