MaryJanice Davidson - Dead Over Heels

And she had . She had .

Looking back through the years, she could see his subtle maneuverings, the way he always made sure she stayed single, the way he gently discouraged her from pursuing certain men, men she might have fallen for.

Sneaky treacherous bastard!

If she ever saw him again (fat chance of that ) she would punch his face in. Repeatedly. Until he was a big bloody mess on the ground. He and Geoff the asshole could share a hospital room.

By the fifth day, she had heaved herself up off the living room couch, hosed herself off, dressed in fresh, clean clothes, and bopped down the street to the nearest bar.

She moved easily, without pain; the damage Geoff had inflicted was long gone—although she had called the Cape Cod Hospital two days ago and established he was still an inpatient. That had put the first smile on her face in seventy-two hours. She hoped his balls still hurt.

After pushing her way past the waiting crowd, after being waved in by the bouncer, she headed straight for the bar. Never had she wanted a drink so badly.

Now she was slumped on a stool, sucking down Coronas and thinking about all the ways she would mutilate Saul if she ever saw him again (fat chance of that ).

“Excuse me?”

First, she’d break his nose. Then, she’d break out all his teeth. Then—

“Excuse me?”

She turned to look; a cute redheaded, green-eyed werewolf had slid onto the stool beside her. That was a relief; at least a monkey wasn’t about to put the moves on her. “Yeah?”

“Don’t I know you?”

“I dunno. Do you?”

“You’re Cain, right?”

“Right.” She stuck out her hand and he shook it. He really was cute, with those sparkling green eyes and that big grin. And freckles!

“I’m Darrell.”

“Oh, God,” she groaned, and buried her face in her hands.

I don’t have an STD. Contrary to rumor.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Buy you another one?” he asked, gesturing to her beer bottle, which was almost empty.

“Sure.”

“So,” he said, while they were waiting for the bartender, “Saul got it wrong, huh? That’s not like him.”

“Oh yes it is. He got it wrong on purpose. He’s been steering guys away from me for years. He just stepped it up this month.”

There was an awkward pause while the bartender plunked down their drinks, then Darrell said, “Jeez, that’s—uh—weird. Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s gone insane?”

“I dunno, sounds like a description of a man in love to me.”

“Please,” she said, furiously chomping on her lime.

“That would explain,” Darrell said thoughtfully, “why I also heard that you were anorexic, hooked on marijuana, and a nymphomaniac.”

She nearly choked on her lime. “I haven’t gotten laid in two years! And all that other stuff isn’t true, either,” she added belatedly.

“You’re right. He has gone insane. Saul, of all people! Crazy over you, at least.”

“Please,” she said again.

“Wow,” he said cheerfully, slurping his Bud. “I heard you were a little slow on the uptake, but does he have to paint it on your forehead?”

“I am not, either!” she said furiously, resisting the impulse to break the bottle over his stupid red head. “And he does not! And he better not. I can’t believe you’re on his side. Men,” she snorted. “You all stick together.”

“We sort of have to,” he said apologetically. “Mars and Venus and all that stuff, right? Guys have to stick together. Otherwise, you’d destroy us all.”

“That’s an interesting worldview. Creepy, but interesting.” She finished her beer and made up her mind. “So. You wanna go out? Tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he said, “but I won’t.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because Saul’s in love with you and you’re probably in love with him, you’re just too pissed to see it. And I’m not getting in the middle of that . Although you are perfectly cute,” he assured her.

“We’re just friends,” she snapped, ignoring the niggle of doubt crawling up her spine. “But thanks for the cute thing.”

“No problem. But you’re one hundred percent deluded about his feelings.”

“Deluded?” she echoed disbelievingly.

“Oh, sure. He’s totally in love with you. That’s why he did all that research on every eligible male Pack member. Guy probably hasn’t slept since you got back to town.”

“He told me that was work !”

“Well, for him, it probably was.”

She banged her forehead on the surface of the bar. “Jerk. Jerk. Jerk.”

“Hey. Quit that.” Darrell shoved his hand between her forehead and the bar, so the next time her head banged down on his hand. “Seriously, stop! You’ll give yourself a concussion.”

“I never could read his writing. I saw the paperwork, it was all over the living room.”

“Well, you should quit bitching that you didn’t have any clues. You had tons of them, sounds like.”

“It’s possible I hate you more than I hate Saul.”

“Problem is, you don’t hate Saul. So why don’t you go see him?”

“Because he’s a treacherous, lying bastard?”

“Who’s been with you through—what’s the phrase? Thick and thin?”

“I have just decided,” she said, “that this is none of your business.”

“Oh, I love to meddle. Besides, you looked so cute and forlorn I couldn’t help coming over.”

“Puppies are cute,” she grumped. “Babies are cute. I am not cute.”

“Awww, don’t be so hard on yourself, cute stuff. And go see Saul!”

“Forget it.”

He cupped his chin in one hand and studied her. “Man, he’s a brave bastard. You’d be a handful.”

“Shut up. Go away.”

“If you promise to go see him, I will.”

“How about if I just beat the crap out of you instead?”

“Oh, no,” he said earnestly. “Then it’d be awkward if we ever ran into each other again.”

“What is with you?”

“I’m a huge fan of true love.”

Incredibly, she heard herself promise. Anything for some fucking peace and quiet.

She charged into Saul’s living room, having rapidly metabolized the beer and deciding to get her promise over with as soon as possible.

“All right, you treacherous son of a bitch, you sneaky sly—shit.”

The house was empty. Which was weird; where was he at friggin’ midnight, anyway? He had no life outside of work! And her! And work!

Probably out spreading more odious rumors about her; she wouldn’t put it past him.

She settled down to wait. She’d wait all night if she had to. All week . And ooooh, she was going to give him such a piece of her mind, and possibly a concussion, and maybe even—

The front door swung open, and Saul staggered inside.

“Oh my God!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, trying to limp past her, but she blocked his way. He had a bloody nose, the beginnings of two black eyes, and there was something wrong with his leg.

“Sit down, let me look at your leg.”

He tried to push her away and nearly fell over. She easily shoved him onto the couch, ripped his jeans open, and examined the bulge.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s broken.”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s healing really fast.”

“Ye—aaaagggggghhhhhh!”

She had slammed her fist down on the bulge, straightening out the greenstick fracture with one blow.