The Fangover (The Fangover 1)

“So’s murder.”

“What?” Stella frowned.

“Murder is a grim fact.”

“What does murder have to do with sex?”

“Sex, lies, and murder.”

He’d lost her, but fortunately she was spared from having to respond by the waitress setting down Wyatt’s waffle and her glass of blood. She was thirsty. That hangover had a wicked hold on her. She sipped while Saxon chewed, as she mulled over everything that had happened. She sifted through the facts and speculation, worrying her bottom lip. There seemed to be very little they knew 100 percent other than what Saxon had said—he’d ridden a bull and Wyatt had worn a corset. There was one other fact that just occurred to her though.

“How are you going to pay for this?” she asked him. “You told me you were broke.”

Saxon gave her a sheepish grin. “I was kinda hoping you’d treat me. You know, for being your shoulder to cry on.”

That so did not surprise her. “What if I don’t have any money on me? How could you be so sure?”

He shrugged. “Because you’re you. You’re organized. There is no way you’re out for the night without cash and a credit card in your wallet.”

Saxon knew her well. She liked to be prepared. “Fine, I’ll pay. And thanks for the advice.” Frankly, he had talked her out of violence. She could buy him a waffle for that.

“No problem. You going to find Wyatt and talk to him? ’Cause that’s like the mature thing to do, you know.”

Saxon throwing maturity in her face was quite a cruel irony, but she couldn’t argue with him. “Yes, I’m going to talk to him. Now stop chewing with your mouth full and get your elbows off the table.”

“Yes, Mom.”

That felt better. More normal. She sipped her drink and tried to think of what to say to Wyatt.

“Bite me” might be a good place to start.

Chapter Seventeen

SAY IT WITH FLOWERS

(But Not to Saxon)

WYATT walked down the street with his flowers and called Stella. He seriously doubted she would answer and he wasn’t sure then what his plan would be. Maybe she would go to Johnny’s. Or home. He didn’t think she would still be with Saxon, and she wasn’t the type to defiantly stay out all night making the bar rounds by herself.

Of course she didn’t answer. It went straight to voicemail. He paused on the corner, undecided. If he went home, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. His body was weary, but his mind was still racing around the track. For all the bouncing around his thoughts were doing, he felt like he couldn’t think.

His phone rang in his hand. It was Stella. His heart started to thump heavily in his chest. Hitting Answer he said, “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s me.”

She didn’t sound like she wanted to rip his testicles off. That was a good sign. “Hey. Where are you? Are you okay?” Maybe she was calling for bail money. She’d left the bar mad enough to do vandalism.

“I’m okay. I’m at Déjà Vu. Can we talk?”

Fear crept along his spine. She was going to dump him again, more calmly and permanently. “Sure. I’m right around the corner. I’ll be there in five.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

What the hell was she thanking him for? Wyatt knew it had to be bad then.

When he got to the block where the restaurant was, she was already outside with Saxon. She was touching Saxon. Tenderly, it seemed. Jealousy coiled in his gut. He really needed to get a grip on that, but he didn’t think he was going to until she was his—which she wasn’t going to be, clearly. So he was facing an eternity of feeling like someone was driving nails into his nuts every time Stella smiled at a man. It didn’t sound like a fun future.

Swallowing hard, determined not to make matters worse, he approached them and forced a casual, “Hey, guys.”

Stella glanced at him and gave him a shy smile. “Hey. I’m just putting some ointment on Saxon’s cross burn. I think it will help it heal. This stuff works wonders on mortals, so it will definitely work on a vampire.”

Her fingers were massaging something into Saxon’s forehead while he stood there patiently. Just Stella being maternal as usual. Nothing untoward. Wyatt relaxed, feeling like even more of a jackass, his damp fist curled tightly around the flowers dangling by his side.

“You don’t want to keep the scar?” Wyatt said, injecting levity into his voice. “I thought chicks dig scars.”

“This one’s just creepy,” Saxon said. “No one is going to want to have sex with me if they see the cross staring down at them.”

Well, there was that. “Good point.”

“Are those flowers for me?” Saxon asked, brown eyes homing in on the blooms Wyatt was clutching nervously.

“No. They’re for Stella.”

Her head snapped toward him, her fingers drifting down from Saxon’s forehead. “They are?” Her gaze met his, warm and nervous, before dropping down to the flowers.

“Yes.” He lifted them up in offering. “I’m sorry for giving away Johnny’s necklace. I had no right to do that, and while I can’t even begin to explain why I would do something so awful and I don’t remember it at all, being shitfaced doesn’t excuse it. I’m really sorry,” he repeated.

Her mouth fell open, her tongue slipping out to wet her pink lower lip. “Thank you for apologizing.” She took the flowers from him and nuzzled them to her nose. “They’re beautiful.”

They really weren’t. They were cheap grocery store flowers in a cellophane sleeve, but he was pleased she understood he was sincere. “And for the record, I had a drink with Karen. That’s it. There is no other woman I want but you.”

“Are you sure?” Saxon asked. “Because no one would blame you if you slept with Karen. I’m just saying. And honesty is always the best policy.”

Wyatt turned to his friend and struggled to not snap his head off his shoulders and toss it down the street like a bowling ball. “One: Mind your own business. Two: I am being honest. I did not sleep with Karen. Three: Go away.”

Saxon’s eyes went wide. “Fine. I can take a hint.” He rolled his eyes and looked at Stella. He mouthed “crazy” to her and pointed to Wyatt behind his palm. Stella let out a laugh.

Wyatt told him, “It wasn’t really a hint. I want to be alone with Stella. We’ll see you tomorrow night back at work.”