“Twenty bucks.” She shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”
“There’s an inn at the edge of town where you could stay. Family owned. I don’t think it’s expensive. It’s got a big red cock out front.”
Zenia sputtered on a sip of coffee. “A what?”
His smile was slow but genuine and it warmed her all over to finally see some levity from him. His eyes were all kinds of sexy now.
“The inn is called The Red Rooster. There’s a giant iron rooster sculpture on the front lawn.”
“I see.” But looking for an actual red cock may have proved more interesting. “How much you think they charge a night?”
Blade opened a drawer beside him, took out a roll of bills and set it on the counter before Zenia. “That should help you out a bit.”
A bit? Her jaw dropped open. The tightly wound block of greens looked as though it could bankroll an entire building project.
“Oh, no, I can’t.” But she couldn’t stop from grabbing it and testing the weight of the roll. They were hundred dollar bills. And there had to be a couple dozen of them rolled up. “This is... No. I don’t know how I’d ever pay that back. I’m good with sleeping in the truck and eating Doritos. I like the cool-ranch ones.”
“It’s a gift. I can afford it.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“That’s the best kind of gift. It makes me feel good to give. Maybe it will even tilt me out of the guilt column I’ve been stuck in. Will you let me have that good feeling?”
“I uh...” She set the roll beside the plate. It would certainly come in handy and definitely pay for a month or more at a cheap inn or hotel. And she could really use a hot shower every day. And maybe even new clothes. And some sparkly rings for her fingers.
The guilt column? What had the man to feel guilty about?
It was none of her business. If he was trying to buy some redemption or whatever, far be it from her to get judgmental, as he’d suggested earlier.
“Okay,” she said. “But what will I owe you? Besides all this cash?”
“You think I expect something from you for that money?”
“You’re a man. If I know anything about men it is that they generally do not give things to others without expecting something in return. And you, being handsome and single, and me being, well—whatever and whoever I am—maybe you want something from me.”
“Something.” He leaned forward onto the counter on his elbows and his hair fell over one eye. He rapped the counter. Considering what his terms would be?
“I don’t want to give you sex,” she suddenly felt the need to say. “I mean, I don’t know you very well. So if that’s the condition, then I’ll leave without this.” She pushed the roll toward him.
“If I’d wanted to have sex with you, Zen, it would have happened last night.”
“Oh.”
So that meant he wasn’t interested in having sex with her? Because the guy was ten kinds of handsome. And—didn’t he find her attractive?
Why that thought? She wasn’t curious about having sex with him.
Maybe a little. Oh, mercy, to imagine that blue hair falling over her face as he kissed her and those rigid abs brushing across her stomach...
“I want to help you out and make sure you’re safe.”
As he seemed to do with the locals. Helping nuns? Despite his dark-and-dangerous appearance, the man must be a pussycat at heart.
“Okay.” She clasped the money roll. “Can we be friends?”
Blade abruptly straightened and crossed his arms again. “I don’t do the friend thing with women very well.”
“I see.” A wad of cash and a don’t-let-the-door-hit-you-on-the-way-out. Never mind the guilt column, this guy was still occupying the weird column. “So this is it, then? I indulge in your tasty pancakes and then take the money and run?”
“Yep.”
Her heart fell, but she kept her shoulders straight and didn’t show her disappointment. “That’s cool. I’ve overstayed my welcome as it is. Got some memory tracking to do.” She grabbed her backpack and stuffed the money in it. Holding out her hand, she shook his. “Thanks for everything, Blade. Blessings to you.”
“Stay away from Brock Olafson,” he called as she headed down the stairs.
She would. But it was too bad Blade didn’t want to be friends. She could really use a friend right now. This being-on-her-own thing was for the birds. Whoever she was, she was probably a person who thrived on the connection with others.
Which was why it felt as if she was walking away from the best thing to ever happen to her as she took the stairs downward.
“Uh, Blade?”
A wave of relief fell over Blade when he heard Zen calling from the bottom of the stairs. She hadn’t left.
And what was that about? He didn’t care if she left and never returned. He’d told her he didn’t want to be friends. Had given her enough cash to survive a few months on her own. Add another tally in his charity column. End of story.
“There’s a police car at the end of the driveway,” Zen called up. “The officer is looking over my truck.”
“Ah, hell. They must have gotten a stolen vehicle report. Get back up here. I’ll go out and talk to him.”
He passed her on the stairs. The skim of her hair across his biceps felt like silk on his skin. He wanted to feel it brush his lips, to draw in her scent and—
Blade forced his thoughts back to the dire situation. “What’s out in the truck that belongs to you?”
“Nothing. All I own is in my backpack,” she said, patting the backpack she held before her. “Not as if any of this stuff is mine. Fingerprints?”
“Yeah, well, maybe that would be a good thing? If they traced your prints there could be a chance you’d know who you are.”
She shook her head and studied her fingertips. “Not sure about that. I don’t want to go to jail. I was just borrowing the truck. You think they’d believe that?”
“Nope. Stay. I’ll handle this.”
She nodded and he waited for her to reach the top step of the stairs before heading outside.
Earl Smith was a local cop who knew his family. Of course, Smith didn’t know the Saint-Pierres were werewolves, vampires and
