Chapter 14
fourteen
. . .
peony
We play two more games of checkers that night, and I beat both Kellen and Rupert handily. I crow with victory at the end, and Rupert slaps the table.
“She’s scary at this game,” he says to Kellen.
Because it’s getting late, we all say goodnight. Kellen departs, leaving Rupert and me standing alone in the dining room together.
“Peony.” He stops me before I can head out the door. “It was so lovely to meet you in person. You are… charming. And quite lovely.” His eyes travel down my body, then, as if he realizes what he’s doing, they dart back up to my face again. “Thank you for attending my dinner.”
“It was absolutely my pleasure.” I hold out a hand, and Rupert looks at it curiously.
Then, he extends his own clawed hand to take mine.
I think we’re going to shake, but instead, Rupert kneels before me with his big mane of hair billowing up behind him.
He did this earlier, too, and I wonder what it means.
He places a chaste kiss on the back of my hand, his lips soft and warm.
“Truly, thank you. Thank you for accepting the job here. Thank you for… forgiving me after what a mess I made of your dinner.”
I have to smile. How could I not forgive him after the meal he made for me tonight? After discovering how kind and sweet and thoughtful he is?
“I think I understand you a little better now,” I say. Rupert gets back up to his feet, but doesn’t release me, and I don’t think I want him to. “I want to support you as best I can.”
“Just your presence lifts my spirits.” He strokes the back of my hand with his big thumb, the very tip of his claw dragging over my skin in a way that doesn’t hurt but leaves a tiny red mark. “I very much look forward to having dinner with you again.”
Eventually, Rupert lets go and we stand there without speaking. I think neither of us wants to say goodbye first.
“I suppose I should go to bed,” I finally say, heading to the door.
Rupert bows his head. “I hope you sleep well, Peony.” But before I can leave, he calls out, “Wait!”
I spin around, almost hoping he’s come up with some other way we can keep talking.
“Tomorrow, will you go on a walk with me?” he asks. “The weather is supposed to be sunny and fair, though brisk.”
A chance to wear my new coat and spend a little more time together? Twist my arm.
I grin. “I would love that. Perhaps after lunch?”
His return smile is full of shiny fangs. “After lunch, then.”
It’s hard to get to sleep that night with everything that happened this evening and how much I’m anticipating tomorrow, but I do manage it after an hour of staring at my ceiling.
The next morning is bright and pleasant, though cold, as Rupert predicted.
I rise out of bed and stretch in front of the window, soaking up the fresh beams coming in through the glass.
It’s exciting to choose which clothes I want to wear that morning instead of putting on the same thing every day.
I go for one of my new patterned blouses, then a pair of jeans that perfectly hug my butt.
Am I really thinking about how my pants make my ass look? But… I want Rupert to see, and I want him to like it. I know I shouldn’t, that we’re just friends, but his opinion of me matters immensely.
I putter around all morning, then cook some French toast with mascarpone cream and bacon for brunch. When I prepare it on a silver plate as I always do, though, a tall figure darkens the doorway.
“Peony,” Rupert breathes, stepping into the kitchen. He must feel much more comfortable with me after last night if he’s willing to show himself without preparation.
I transfer his food to a regular plate, then slide it onto the counter. He seats himself on one of the stools, humorously dwarfing it.
“Oh, wow,” he says, biting into the toast. “How do you make something so simple taste amazing?”
“I let it sit in the batter, and I season the batter with spices and sugar. Then… I use a lot of butter.”
We both laugh. Butter is the secret to tasty cooking. It always is.
While we eat, we settle into a comfortable conversation about other tips and tricks in the kitchen.
Rupert has all sorts of traditional French culinary knowledge, knowledge I didn’t obtain by working my way up from dishwasher.
It took years for me to learn by experience and example, and I’m one hundred percent self-taught.
Then we’re finished, and Kellen still hasn’t appeared for his own meal yet. I cover a plate for him and put it in the fridge, and Rupert texts him. Somehow he’s able to use the pads of his fingers to tap the screen without his claws getting in the way.
“Hm. No response.” Rupert cocks a ridged brow. “I hope he’s all right.”
“He needs a day off sometimes.” I get up off my stool and take my dish to the sink. “Maybe he’s on a date or something?”
Rupert gawps at me. “A date? Kellen?”
“Why not? He’s a nice man, and good-looking.”
Something I can’t decipher darkens Rupert’s eyes.
“Yes, he is.” He gets to his feet, too, and silently we each put our dishes in the dishwasher. I start to tidy up pans, but Rupert stops me.
“I’ll take care of it when we get back from our walk.”
He waits outside my door, his own coat slung over his arm, while I head inside to get mine. I study myself in the mirror as I button it up, then put on the matching hat, gloves, and scarf. When I emerge, Rupert’s brows rise to his mane.
“It looks wonderful on you,” he says in a low voice. He reaches out and lifts the very end of the scarf. “Great choice.”
I suck in a breath when blood rushes up to my face. “Thank you.”
We head to the back door, and here, Rupert puts on his own jacket, an old-fashioned black wool coat with brass buttons. It doesn’t quite fit him, given the massive size of his body, but the man who wore it in life must have still been rather large.
“You look good,” I say.
“Vintage,” Rupert answers as we head out into the cool air. “Used to belong to a captain in the British military. My grandfather. He was in the Royal Navy.”
“Really?” I’m fascinated. I didn’t think he would broach his past or his family yet. “He was a captain?”
Rupert opens the gate to the garden, and I could swear he sniffs me as I walk past.
“I come from a long line of military people. I was the first one to decide not to walk that path. My father and mother were not happy with me.” His shoulders hunch a little as he continues.
“They were especially not happy when I wanted to go into cooking. I dropped out just before graduation at the Culinary Institute. I had internships lined up at good restaurants, but my father fell ill.”
Without thinking, I reach out and put a hand on his arm. Rupert looks at me from the corner of his eye, and his lip quirks up.
“I’m sorry about your father,” I say.
Rupert nods appreciatively. “It’s been years since he passed, but I still think about him often.”
“Are you in touch with your mother?”
It might be a sensitive question, but he seems willing to open up about his vulnerabilities right now.
With a sigh, Rupert shakes his head. “Not since… this happened.” He gestures downward at his body. “We spoke a few times, but as soon as she began asking when she could come to visit, or when I would visit her, I realized I had no excuses.”
“So you stopped calling her?”
“And I stopped answering her calls.”
When I let out a surprised gasp, Rupert hunches forward, burying his hands deeper in his pockets.
He doesn’t even speak to his own mother. She must worry about him and wonder if she did something wrong. I’m just as sorry for Rupert as for her, because he feels he has no choice in it.
“Do you miss her?” I ask, winding my scarf tighter around my neck. I’m glad I have it and the hat, or else my ears would freeze off.
“I suppose I do. There are many things I miss about my old life. But that’s just what it is.” He looks straight ahead, his feline mouth set in a firm line with his front fangs showing. “My old life.”
I think I understand even more now. It’s as if that version of him died when he became this.
Unsure how to answer, I decide to say nothing and simply enjoy the outdoors together. At the other end of the garden, Rupert opens the next gate. As I pass him, he sets a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you with talk of my mother.”
“I won’t say it doesn’t affect me.” I look up into his unusual face, the one that is already becoming familiar to me since last night. “But it doesn’t upset me. I want to know, Rupert. And sometimes the truth can be difficult to bear.”
He cocks his head, returning my steady gaze.
“There may be more things like this.” His tone is almost… warning. “More moments where my truth will be painful to hear.”
I think he knows what I want to ask him next. And I hope he’ll be willing to tell me, even if it’s difficult.
“I’m tougher than you think,” I say in a joking tone, trying to lighten the mood. I flex one arm, patting my bicep. “I’ve seen some shit.”
Rupert laughs at this, his big muzzle opening wide to show off his thick, pink tongue and sharp teeth.
“I assume you have. I still want to know, by the way, how you came to be living in your car.”
I bite my lip. Did I think this would only go one way? Maybe I’d simply assumed we’d talk about Rupert all day, and I wouldn’t have to reveal to him the things I’ve tried to keep secret.
Looking back, I’m ashamed of myself, of what I allowed Andy to do to me. I would hate to see the judgment on Rupert’s face as I reveal just how much of a fool I was to slip into his vortex.
“It’s a long story,” I finally say, bringing my hood up over my head as the sun disappears into the tree branches.
Rupert tucks his hands behind his back as he gazes up into the foliage. “We have time.”
My throat closes just imagining how he might react. I never thought I’d be one of those women who finds herself trapped by a man, tolerating more and more until she’s swallowed up. But here I am with nothing, trying to piece my life back together.