Chapter 21 The Near-Miss Kiss Trope
Tonight was my hot date with Tyrone. If I was in LA, I’d put on something tight and low-cut, but this was a different world. What does a former cheerleader who used to volunteer at a soup kitchen on the regular wear to have hot chocolate with a Christmas tree farmer?
I poked my head in Heaven’s room. “Hey, Heaven. I have a date tonight—”
I stopped abruptly at the sight of her. She appeared to be melting in front of some sort of overbright lamp.
“Ugh! What is that abomination?” I cried out, covering my eyes. “Isn’t it giving you a migraine?”
“A SAD lamp. Haven’t you seen one before?”
“Turn it off.” I peered at her through my fingers. “It burns.”
“No, it’s for seasonal affective disorder. It replicates sunlight.”
I backed out of the room. “Heaven!” I cried, “I’d rather you do meth.”
“Like what you’re doing is healthy?” she said with indignation.
“What’s the matter with what I’m doing? You’re just thirsty,” I said before she could answer.
“Actually, I am,” she shot back. “I’m dying of thirst all the damn time! But I’m still right.”
I could see this wasn’t the right time to consult her on my outfit. “Is Vlad still asleep?” Last night, he’d brought a coffin into the largest bedroom on the second floor, insisting that we hadn’t done an adequate job of blocking the light for him to sleep without one.
“He must be,” Heaven said. “I don’t get the coffin thing. You don’t need a castle, a butler, and lavender essence just to take a nap. The rest of us make do all the time,” Heaven said.
At the moment, I didn’t care why Vlad wanted to sleep in a box because it suited my purposes.
I tiptoed into Vlad’s room, pausing every few feet to listen for him stirring.
Once I was sure he was asleep, I stood as far away from the coffin as possible and strained on tippy-toes to reach for the latch. With one quick movement, I flipped it.
A groggy throat-clearing noise came from inside the coffin. “Tiffenie, is that you?”
I blew out my hair and curled it just so around a winter hat with a pompom. For my outfit, I went simple with jeans and a red turtleneck.
In the other room, Vlad began roaring in his coffin.
When Heaven’s eyes went wide with fear, I said, “It’s fine.
Let him out ten minutes after I leave.” There was no way he wasn’t going to pop out of that coffin and do his best to scare Tyrone away.
“How does my makeup look?” I asked, fluffing my hair.
“Tiffenie!” Vlad pounded on the coffin lid. Then silence, followed by “Let me out this instant!”
Heaven studied my face. “Maybe some more blush. You still look a little dead.”
“That’s the hardest part to get right,” I said. The line between alive and clown was thinner than you’d think.
“Here, let me.” Heaven swirled a makeup brush through pink powder and lightly swiped it across my cheeks. Something about the gesture warmed my undead heart: the light brush of the bristles, the care with which she dusted my face.
Vlad was thrashing and yelling by this point. “If you don’t let me out this instant—”
I waved dismissively in his direction. “He’ll be fine.”
A knock at the front door interrupted us and I glanced at my phone. Tyrone wasn’t supposed to be here for another ten minutes.
“Stay back,” I said. “You don’t want to be near anyone yet.”
“I think you’ve been overhyping this bloodlust thing,” said Heaven.
“Just stay out of the way, please.”
At the landing, I paused. The chandelier cast little orbs of light through the room. Butterflies tickled my stomach at the sight of Tyrone’s silhouette, visible through the opaque glass in the doorway.
Tyrone knocked again.
I gave the girls a quick adjustment, smoothed my shirt, and opened the door with a smile. “Tyrone, you’re early—” But it wasn’t Tyrone. A boring-looking man with thinning hair and a Willy Loman aura stood on my doorstep.
“Miss Blair,” the man who tragically wasn’t Tyrone said, “I’m Wayne Jarvis with the City of Valentine. I need to talk to you about a few things.”
Whatever he wanted to talk about would have to wait. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m on my way out. Is it important?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you for some time.”
“I understand, but I was just on my way out, Mr.—”
“Jarvis.”
“Okay, five minutes, but that’s it.”
Looking unimpressed, he launched into his spiel. “Like I said, I’m from the city. I’ve been trying to reach you for some time. I have mailed multiple letters and attached notices to the door.”
A memory surfaced of a piece of paper going up in flames. “Do you mean the condemnation thing? I meant to straighten that out, but I haven’t had a chance yet.”
“The condemnation thing?” he repeated, incredulous. “So you know?” When I nodded, he said, “You must not understand what it means, then.”
“Yes, tear down the building. I get that, but you don’t have to.” I gestured to beautiful room. “I already started fixing it up.”
“Miss Blair,” he said, getting all huffy, “you can’t ignore notices like that. I’m doing you a favor by coming out here after hours to notify you in person that the city is about to tear this structure down.”
“What? I just moved in!”
“Again, you should have received a notice to vacate the premises.”
“Yes, but…”
“There are no buts. This is a legal matter. If you want to dispute it, you need to come down to city hall and take the proper steps. There are procedures.”
Tyrone was going to be here any minute. I tapped my foot impatiently and looked over the man’s shoulder. “I hear you, but I’m fixing things up. I just inherited this inn and haven’t been here very long at all.”
He took a breath. “I can appreciate that. This is probably a lot to take in.”
“Yes.” I nodded. The communication was working.
“If I see that you have intent to fix some of the bigger problems, it might be possible to give you an extension.”
I clasped my hand to my heart. “Thank you so much, Mr. Jarvis.”
“Call me Wayne,” he said magnanimously, which reminded me that you catch more flies with honey.
With a smile, I said, “I didn’t understand it was a big deal. I get so much junk mail. It all starts to look the same.”
“Well, if you ever get something from the City of Valentine, you should read it. We don’t send junk mail.”
I tried to be demure. “I see that now. This is the first time I’ve taken on a big project like this.”
All relaxed and manly, he rolled up his sleeves and said, “While I’m here, let me explain some of your bigger issues.” He glanced up and frowned. “Miss Blair, you didn’t mention that you had a guest.”
I followed his gaze. Oh, shit.
Heaven stood at the top of the stairs wearing a Strawberry Shortcake T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, her pink and yellow braids piled atop her head in a bun.
Wayne smiled and waved, probably excited to explain rules to even more people.
Heaven’s eyes were glowing, twin beams in the dim light. When she licked her lips, I caught a flash of gleaming fangs. She was looking at Wayne like he was her favorite order from the falafel place in our old neighborhood. Oh, no.
“Heaven,” I called, “go back to your room.” With a glance at Wayne, I said, “My roommate isn’t feeling well.”
“This shouldn’t take long,” he said.
With a sharp look and a faux-casual tone, I said, “Heaven, honey, let’s get you back to bed.”
“I’m cool,” she said, but she absolutely wasn’t. Ignoring me, she came down the stairs faster than I’d ever seen her move and took Wayne’s hand.
No no no no no.
“It’s all right. Your roommate should hear this too,” Wayne said, oblivious to the danger.
I grabbed her arm, trying not to make it obvious that I was restraining her. I was strong, but her baby vampire bloodthirst made her stronger. “Maybe we can finish this up later?”
“This’ll be quick.” He took a glance around. “If you do what I say, it’ll get you out of hot water with the city.”
Heaven was starting to drool.
“For one, you need to fix all of these exposed wires.” He pointed to the ceiling. “This is what I like to call ‘death trap wiring.’ ”
Oh, he was in a death trap all right. “Let’s go over this later, Wayne,” I said to no effect. The man kept going on about plastic coating on wires like it was his greatest passion.
Meanwhile, Heaven was about to drain him like a Capri-Sun.
Her lips were drawn back over her teeth in a way that ought to make anyone uncomfortable.
Wayne moseyed his way over to the fireplace and gestured to the darkened walls.
“You’ve got a lot of smoke damage in here.
That’s cosmetic, but you’ll have to pry off the plaster around the fireplace and make sure there isn’t any structural damage. ”
While he patted the wall, Heaven sidled up to him and took a whiff like she was smelling a steak dinner.
“Well, uh, hello,” he said, laughing. “Come take a look at this wall.” He cleared his throat. “Even if you’re not comfortable with tools—I know a lot of ladies aren’t—you might be able to do this part on your own. Tyrone, across the road, probably has a crowbar you can borrow.”
Heaven bared her fangs and hissed.
“Heaven, no!” I used all my might to hold her back.
He backed away and eyed her as if he was only just beginning to realize Heaven wasn’t as interested in the structural integrity of the house as he was.
Heaven, who was barely recognizable compared to her usual happy-go-lucky self, jerked out of my grasp. She literally went for the jugular.
Oh, fuck. “Heaven!” I yelled.
Mr. Jarvis shrieked. “Help me—” His voice cut off in a gurgle.
“Damn it!” I grabbed Heaven by the collar of her Strawberry Shortcake shirt. “For heaven’s sake, get off of him!” I yelled, trying my best to pull her away. “You can’t kill the city inspector!”
Mr. Jarvis screamed again.
This couldn’t be going any worse.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jarvis! I’m so sorry.”
Driven by insatiable thirst, Heaven was too strong and determined. Mr. Jarvis was alive, but not for long. As he sank to the floor, Heaven still feeding, someone knocked on the front door.
Tyrone. “Fuck!” I yelled. I couldn’t let him see Heaven drain the life out of this sad little man.
With no recourse, I grabbed the closest object I could find, the Thomas Kinkade painting Heaven hadn’t let me burn.
Sunbeams and a heavy wooden frame would have to do the trick.
My hands sizzled as I grasped the painting in a firm two-handed grip.
“Sorry, Heaven!” I said, as I brought the popular American wall art down on her head. She immediately slumped over. A trickle of blood ran down her face where the frame cut her forehead.
She’d be fine in a few minutes, but Mr. Jarvis wouldn’t.
Tyrone knocked again.
Before opening the door, I shut my eyes and took a second to collect myself. With the door open a crack, I snuck out onto the rotting porch. I knew for a fact it happened to be another one of Mr. Jarvis’s issues.
“Hey, handsome,” I said in an overly bright, nothing-to-see-here greeting.
“Hey. You ready?” He glanced down at my outfit. “You look…delicious.”
So did he. The smell of fresh blood in the air already had me in sensory overdrive.
“You need a coat?” he asked.
“I’m…I’m so sorry, but is there any way we could do this tomorrow?” I was obviously ready for our date in my adorable hot-chocolate-drinking outfit. With downcast eyes, I said, “Heaven still isn’t feeling well. She needs me. Rain check?”
“Are you sure? We could bring her back some soup…”
“Actually, I think I might need to take her to the hospital.” This was half true. Someone was going to the hospital. Just not Heaven.
His brow furrowed. “Do you want me to drive?”
I shook my head. “It’s a female thing. Can we meet tomorrow night instead, same time?”
“Sure.” Tyrone had the look of someone who’d been disappointed but was polite enough not to make anything of it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
For a hot second we stood awkwardly. It felt wrong to send him away with a wave, and I wanted more. We hadn’t had a date yet, but I was ready for the goodnight kiss, a little something to tide me over. The scent of blood in the air wasn’t helping.
He must have sensed my thirst, and my own desire was reflected in his expression. “Is it okay if I give you a hug?” he asked.
In answer, I stepped into his arms and looked up into his warm brown eyes.
People talk about that new car smell, but new man smell is even better.
Tyrone was all freshly cut pine and drugstore deodorant, and definitely something I’d like to take for a drive.
It didn’t take any more than a glance upward to invite a kiss.
He leaned down and I opened my mouth to taste him, earthy and wholesome and all male.
It took everything I had not to take a little nip of his lower lip.
Someone inside interrupted the moment with a long, painful groan.
Pulling away, I said, “I better go. Tomorrow?”
He smiled, and I read the promise on his lips.
As soon as I slammed the door on Tyrone, I grabbed Heaven by the hand. She was still slumped over by Wayne, but just starting to come to.
As I helped her to her feet, her eyes glazed over once again with lust and hunger as she stared longingly at Wayne Jarvis. It was laughable. He looked like he wore a pocket protector, and here was Heaven brimming with lusty enthusiasm to lap up every last drop.
“Of all people! You can’t drain the inspector!” I shook my head with frustration. “Anyone else would have been better!”
Heaven continued to make hungry eyes at Wayne Jarvis as I led her to the bedroom. I needed her out of the way so I could help Wayne.
“I’m taking him to the hospital. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone!”
Downstairs, Wayne Jarvis hadn’t moved.
“Please be alive. Please be alive,” I chanted, just as I had a few days ago over Heaven.
If he was dead, I would be covering up a murder in my brand-new hometown.
I grabbed a pair of yoga pants and wound them around his neck as tightly as I could without strangling him to staunch the bleeding.
With a surge relief, I heard his heartbeat.
I could save this man. I could save this situation.
This wasn’t good, but it was better than murder.
As soon as Tyrone’s brake lights disappeared down the driveway. I scooped Mr. Jarvis up like a baby and carried him to the car. “Sorry about the hearse, Mr. Jarvis.”
He groaned as I propped him against the passenger side door. “At least you get to ride up front,” I joked.
He turned his head just enough to see the coffin and lost consciousness. Okay. That would make things a little easier.
I typed emergency room into my map app and hit the road with a dying human in my car for the second time in a month.