Kathy Love: Fangs But No Fangs

"Can I get you something to eat?" she blurted out, then winced. It was three in the morning. What were the chances he was hungry? Not that she had much to offer him if he was hungry. The invitation was just the first thing that popped into her mind. The truth was she didn't want him to leave. He was the only company she'd had since she moved here, aside from her knife-wielding brother, and she was lonely. She didn't even realize how much until now.

He hesitated, then instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. "Was that kid— Vance? Are you together in some way?"

Jolee blinked and then laughed, although there was not much humor in the sound. There wasn't much funny about her family in general.

"No. Definitely not. He's my brother."

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then he nodded. To her surprise, he walked toward her, a leisurely, almost predatory quality to his movements. His unusual, pale blue eyes locked on her.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest as his hand came out and caught a strand of her hair, which had escaped from its ponytail.

"Your hair. I've never seen this color before."

From the corners of her eyes, Jolee watched him rub the curling lock, testing the texture. Her heart threatened to hop right out of her chest as she imagined those long, masculine fingers touching parts of her body that actually had nerve endings.

"The color is a little unusual, I guess," she said. Not as unusual as his eyes, which were such a pale blue they appeared almost white. She pulled in a calming breath, forcing herself to look away from his beautiful face.

"That's why you're named Cherry," he said, almost like a revelation to himself.

She frowned for a moment, not following the conversation, probably due to the lack of oxygen getting to her brain. Or maybe too much oxygen, given that her heart was in overdrive. Then she recalled her brother using the dreaded nickname when he'd been yelling for her. "That's one reason, among others."

He frowned, puzzled.

"It's not my real name," she added quickly, as she'd rather not go into the fact that her brothers had mainly called her Cherry to mock her morality and the fact that she actually didn't want to sleep around like her other siblings. They had found her virginity a great source of amusement.

"My name is Jolee. Jolee Dugan."

He stared at her for a moment, his gaze going from her eyes to linger on her lips. Jolee's breath caught in her throat as he slowly leaned closer. He was going to kiss her, she realized.

Her heart revved again. A thrill tingled over her skin; her own gaze dropped to his mouth. His top lip bowed in the center and the bottom one was fuller, pale pink, soft-looking and yet infinitely masculine. His head descended.

Then, as if he'd been burnt, he stepped back from her. He shook his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts.

"I should go."

She frowned, confused by his sudden and strange behaviors. "Are you all right?"

He studied her with those almost eerie eyes, then nodded.

He started for the door. Even with his odd reactions, Jolee didn't want him to leave. Maybe she was more shaken by the incident with Vance than she thought. Or maybe she simply was lonely. Living alone, running a bar essentially by herself, it had been a lonesome time. She wanted to feel like she was connecting with someone.

"You know, you haven't told me your name."

He stopped again, casting a look over his shoulder. He frowned as if the idea of telling his name to her was a foreign concept.

"So, your name?" she prodded. "You do have one, don't you? I can't very well call the neighborhood hero, 'Hey you, now can I?"

He turned back to her, and he actually looked a little uncomfortable. But then, as if the awkwardness hadn't ever been there, his jaw tensed and his eyes grew frosty like chips of pale blue ice. He lifted his chin, and she fully understood the phrase "looking down your nose." She didn't think she'd ever seen anyone look so arrogant.

"You know, as much as I love breaking up family squabbles, I do have things I have to do."

"Oh," she said, stunned by his cool tone, wondering what she'd said to offend him. She did suppose it was a little annoying to have to break up a fight at this time of night, and he had gotten cut in the process. But he didn't have to be quite so haughty about the whole thing. She didn't say that, however. She didn't want to appear ungrateful. She appreciated his help. He had been a hero, and she knew those were too few and far between.

"Well, thank you," she said, following him to the door. She reached for the handle just as he did. Their fingers touched, his on top of hers. Again he jolted away as if the back of her hand was made of molten lava. She dropped her hold on the doorknob, too, startled by his response.

"Sorry," she said, offering him a small smile. Was he reacting this way because he was or wasn't attracted to her? From his deadpan expression, she couldn't tell. "You know, I was thinking, maybe, if you are interested—»

"Your name, Jolee— is that as in French for pretty?"

The question caught her off guard. She smiled wider at the idea, but then she said, "Hardly."

"No, I thought not," he said coolly. He reached for the doorknob. She didn't stop him this time as he stepped outside.

Jolee remained rooted to the spot, unable to react. Finally, she managed to gather her thoughts enough to go get one of the metal chairs in the living room and wedge the back under the door handle. She needed to get a better lock, she thought to herself. A chain lock. Or a deadbolt. Or…

She'd nearly been stabbed by her brother over money she didn't have, and now her weird neighbor had just called her ugly. What a great night.

She laughed out loud, the sound more hysterical than humorous. Thinking about better security wasn't going to erase the embarrassment tightening her chest. Here she'd been thinking her neighbor seemed attracted to her, and he essentially told her how unattractive he really found her. Man, was she that clueless?

She shook her head, telling herself his opinion didn't matter. After all, he had to have issues. A person didn't have the clothes and car and cultured voice he had and live in a rundown trailer park. Something was not right with him. Not to mention he seemed more than a little socially dysfunctional. She had enough of that in her own family. She didn't need to go befriending it.

Still, his words and his arrogant look stung. And reminded her that unlike him, she did belong here. No one would be surprised to find a Dugan in a place like this. No one expected her to make anything out of herself. But she was damned well going to try to. And she wasn't going to waste her time dwelling on her snotty neighbor.

Christian entered his trailer, shutting the door tightly. Then he twisted the lock for good measure.

This was crazy. He was anxious over a mortal. A mortal woman. Why? It had to be this strange agitation he'd been feeling all night. That was the only answer. But what was different? He didn't know. He just knew that he had to get these feelings under control.

But even now, he felt inexplicably drawn to her. He walked over to the window and looked out at her trailer. All her lights were on. He could go back over.

And do what? Be friends? What did he have in common with a mortal woman? He'd given up his vampire ways to reinvent himself. To no longer be the Christian Young who… He didn't actually plan to hang out with humans. Okay, Step Eleven: Making Contact, did sound like he was supposed to do just that. But he blogged— and that was contact.

He turned away from the window. He needed to focus on his plan. He went to the refrigerator. He must have been tempted by the scent of her blood. He'd just been hungry. Maybe he needed to up his pre-measured portions of blood to ten ounces from eight. That was probably it.