A Wolf After My Own Heart by MaryJanice Davidson (good books for high schoolers .TXT) 📕

shrugged out of his rumpled, stained suit jacket and hung it on the peg next to Lila’s scarf, turned back. “How the hell did you know that?”

“It’s the only thing he brought.” Too late, Lila realized she might have accidentally gotten Devoss busted. She’d promised him she wouldn’t say anything about Operation Osa.

“Oh. Right.”

She didn’t sigh with relief, but it was close. Oz thought she meant “brought out of the fire,” and she decided not to disabuse him. But at the first opportunity, Devoss was getting a patented “inanimate things are not worth your life, no matter how precious, never ever go back into a burning house or I will murder you so much” lecture. “Right. So we talked about sleeping arrangements before you got here, Macropi. Garsea, I guess you’re welcome to stay, too. Just try to refrain from pawing through my underwear drawer.”

“Don’t worry,” she said fervently, waving her lightly bandaged fingers, and while it wasn’t especially funny, it eased the tension a bit. “Your offer of shelter is especially considerate given that I…crossed a line earlier.”

“That’s the euphemism, huh?” But between one heartbeat and the next, Lila was tired of needling Garsea. She wanted everybody settled and sleeping so she could settle and sleep. Because there was a lot of stuff to do tomorrow, and she’d bet that the others had no idea just what they had to look forward to. Not to mention, she could be a suspect. She should be a suspect: new in town, crazy-prepared, ladders and buckets all over the place. If they hadn’t gotten that far in their thinking just now, they would soon enough. “Well, if you’re not staying, toodle-oo.”

Oz, who had been sighing over the state of his clothes, looked up as Garsea headed for the door. “Tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll bring the pastry.”

“Yeah, but what are you bringing for everyone else?”

“Har-har.” But there wasn’t any bite to it, and out the door she went.

“Right. Well.” He looked up hopefully at Lila. “You never gave me an answer. About dinner.”

“Possibly because I mashed my mouth down on yours.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Jesus. You’re blushing.”

“The hell I am,” he snapped. “Uh. Sorry. Long day. Could I borrow a spare toothbrush? Or even just yours? I’m not picky.”

“Yuck. I’ll see what I can scrounge up for you and the rest of your wild bunch. I’ll dig up some more pillows, too,” she added, nodding at the couch.

“Lucky fella,” Macropi teased. “Sleeping on two couches in one night.”

Oz grinned. “Charmed life, Mama.”

Chapter 20

Hot, and getting hotter, and her eyes her eyes were streaming and she had no idea how bad the smoke could get and everything was fine five minutes ago and now she couldn’t see and couldn’t breathe and Mama was going to be SO MAD but maybe she could grab some of the mags, maybe even the little bookshelf just inside the living room that was stuffed with People and US Weekly and it was worth trying, sure it was, but she couldn’t she tried and she lost her grip and when she tried to scoop up the smoldering magazines she was scooping up fire she was holding fire and it felt like a zillion bees were stinging her arms at once and she had to put them out she had to kill the bees every last one and and and

“Lila?”

and and and and and and

“Time to wake up, Lila.”

* * *

And there weren’t any bees. There was only Oz, the antithesis of bees.

(antithesis of bees? you need more sleep)

Oz was leaning over her, and she swore she could still feel it where he’d taken her by the shoulder to gently shake her awake. It should have been terrifying, waking in a strange place to a strange man looming over her in a darkened bedroom. She should have smelled phantom smoke and assumed her hair was about to catch fire. Instead, she was so relieved to have escaped the nightmare she could have kissed him, and the only thing she could smell was eau de Oz.

Which was a terrible idea. Top ten of terrible ideas, right up there with all the record clubs she’d joined as a kid and eating undercooked chicken.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice.

“Relieved and mortified is how I am.” She rubbed the imaginary smoke out of her eyes. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I was brushing my teeth and thought—you sounded like—are you sure you’re okay?”

She didn’t answer.

“Am I freaking you out? I don’t want to freak you out.”

She sighed. “Hovering over the bed like a hot Vincent Price is freaking me out, so sit down already.”

He’d half-turned toward the door, but at her words he came back and sat down so hard the bed jostled. And speaking of jostling the bed, Oz dressed in nothing but boxers was just…yum. Which was altogether irrelevant and thus annoying.

She jabbed a finger in his direction. “I have a tragic backstory that I won’t be discussing with you.”

“Okay. But if you change your mind—”

“Pass. And if you tell anyone about my nightmares, which have been stuck on repeat since I was a kid—”

“So this happens a lot?”

“—you won’t live to regret it, get it?”

He raised a hand, solemn as a court clerk. “I get it.”

“That said.” She coughed into her fist. Gratitude was hard. She had a horror of being pitied. “Thanks for coming in.”

“Anytime. Really. That’s not just me being polite. I’ll come in here anytime. Anytime at all.” Pause. “Hot Vincent Price?”

“And now we shall never speak of this again.”

“Whatever you want,” he agreed, rising and backing toward the door. “We established that you’re not seeing anyone, right?”

“Nnn.” She tried to spit out “no,” but her mouth had gone dry so quickly, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Why? Why? It was more than the thrill of knowing a gorgeous guy seemed to be interested. It was knowing she was single and he was, too. Like something could happen. And nothing so easy as a date. Something