5. I cursed him in hoarse, raspy whimpers. #4
Chuckling, Chief Quinn leaned against the doorframe. “I remember from the ten other times you explained it. I even have all the brushes you suggested. Come on in, Gardener. You’re stuck with me until you reverse back to human at the earliest. Isn’t it your lucky day?”
Was the man insane? Had he hit his head on something? Why the hell did he sound so cheerful? I unsheathed my claws and dug them into the asphalt, flattened my ears, and glared at Professor Yale.
The old man ignored me. “Call me if there are any issues, Chief Quinn.”
“Will do. Thanks for bringing her over.”
“All right, Gardener. Move your ass so I can get back to work.”
I snorted but sheathed my claws and stepped to the side so he could back out of the driveway, leaving me alone in front of the brick house with its pristine picket fence, immaculate lawn, and roses in full bloom lining the walkway.
The man who hated me for ruining his marriage had invited me into his home.
Me, a fire-breathing unicorn requiring a manual to keep healthy.
By tomorrow, if I didn’t reverse back to human, I would leave tufts of black and red fur everywhere.
I would need someone to help brush out my coat so I wouldn’t mat.
I would cost him a fortune in firewood and meat.
Even knowing that, he had still invited me in.
“Sor-ree for the truh-bull.”
“Come on in, Bailey. It’s really no trouble. The competition to host you was fierce, as Perkins and half the station offered their places, but since I was the only one of the lot with a suitable fireplace, I won by default.” Chief Quinn stepped into his house and left the door open behind him.
I gaped. Perky had volunteered to host me, too? Who else at the station would actually want to help care for someone as problematic as me, let alone half of them? Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
Aware of Chief Quinn’s curious neighbors emerging from their homes to stare at me, I shuffled my way down his driveway to the walkway. The sweet scent of roses got the better of me, and I paused to nibble on a bloom.
“Are you eating my roses?” Chief Quinn blurted.
Oops. I flicked an ear, swallowed the evidence, and feigned innocence. I made it a few more steps before a large red bloom caught my eye. I eyed it, glanced at Chief Quinn, and debated if I could get away with just one more.
“Professor Yale didn’t tell me you had a taste for roses. Had I known, I would have bought a bouquet so you wouldn’t eat my bushes.”
Yep, Chief Quinn liked his roses. What could one more hurt?
He had so many of them. It took far more restraint than I liked to leave the big flower alone.
Maybe he wouldn’t mind if I took a nap on his sidewalk for a while.
The run from Manhattan hadn’t done me any good.
I turned my ears back and swished my tail, annoyed over my aching muscles.
My time in the hospital hadn’t helped at all, either.
When I reached the four steps leading up to the small porch and the front door, I glared at them.
As a unicorn, steps were my archenemies; as often as not, I tripped over my own hooves if I tried to take them any faster than my slowest walk.
I lifted my head so I could get a good look into his home.
The entry way provided plenty of space with a side table shunted against the white-painted walls as my only obstacle.
Fortunately for me, no one really knew a whole lot about unicorns, especially my species, so when I did something weird, everyone figured it was a part of my new body and the result of transformation.
Wrong.
Unicorns, at least of my breed, normally couldn’t teleport, nor could they hitch a lift on the beams of sunlight streaming into Chief Quinn’s home.
I was different. I had no idea how it worked, but when I had four hooves instead of two feet, a little concentration, a clear path, and some light equalled a fast way to skip the stairs.
When I materialized in front of him, Chief Quinn yelped. “He didn’t tell me you could do that!”
I bobbed my head and whinnied, careful to avoid stabbing or slicing anything with my horn. Why did a unicorn’s tongue make speaking English such a challenge? “Nice house. Tay-stee roses.”
In his preparations to invite me into his home, I suspected Chief Quinn had rearranged his furniture to make room for me.
The entry opened to a sitting room with a pair of couches, an armchair, and a coffee table pushed out of the way.
In front of a fireplace was a large, black furry rug.
Flames crackled in the hearth, and I pricked my ears forward. “Fire!”
“All yours, Bailey. Have fun, just please don’t burn my house down, no matter how much I might deserve it.”
I angled my head so I could watch him with an eye. “Not your fall-tuh—fault—McGee use a bomb with dust. Nay-palm need-ed, Chee-fuh.” I struggled to force out his last name but mangled it.
“Just call me Sam. If you try to say my full name in front of the other cops, they might die of laughter. I wasn’t kidding about you being stuck with me, either.
You’ll be coming to work with me. Professor Yale was very clear about that: you won’t be left unattended.
If you get sick for any reason, we’re hauling you back to the hospital. ”
Chief Quinn wanted me to call him Sam? I cocked an ear back, not sure what I thought about that.
When I was honest with myself, I liked the way his last name rolled off my tongue.
Come hell or high water, I’d get his name right.
Maybe I’d drop the chief, but I’d reserve Sam for something truly important. “I like Quinn.”
His name came out closer to queen than Quinn, but it’d do until I found some private time to practice. The last thing I needed was someone catching me while muttering his name. They’d believe I had lowered myself to stalking the police chief.
“I see. Is there anything I can get for you?”
I shook my head.
“Okay. Just shout if there is. I’ll be in my office down the hall if you need me.” He flicked me a salute and walked away, and I admired the view.
Then I remembered manners were a good thing. “Thank you, Quinn.” There. Not Chief Quinn, just Quinn. That was the closest to intimacy I dared to get with a man far too sexy for his own good—or for mine.