About a Vampire (23 page)

“So are the woods to keep ­people out or in?” she asked dryly.

“Out,” he assured her. “Mom and Dad haven't had to move for decades thanks to those woods. Neighbors can't see who lives here and don't notice they aren't aging. They can just stay here, changing the land title every fifty years or so to be sure that some government worker doesn't notice anything that might seem fishy to a mortal.”

“Clever,” she decided, shifting her attention to the house itself. It was a very large one-­story stucco building painted a sand color. Elegant arches gave way to what appeared to be a shady terrace that ran along the front of the house, giving glimpses of darkened windows in the late afternoon as the sun made its downward journey.

“There was another house here when I was born,” Justin said as he parked the car to the side of the driveway. “They tore it down and built this one about ten years ago.”

Holly nodded at that, and opened her door to get out. She had just straightened in the V between the car and the door when a bark made her glance toward the house. Spotting the large bear of a dog barreling toward them, she released a startled squeal and threw herself back inside the car, pulling the door closed firmly as she went.

 

Thirteen

J
ustin peered from the dog galloping toward him to where Holly had been standing a moment ago, and then bent to look into the front seat to see her staring out, wide-­eyed with terror.

“Holly, what—­?” he began with bewilderment. Then he heard his mother's shout of warning and instinctively turned just as Samson reached him. Unprepared for 120 pounds of dog hitting him in the chest, Justin went down like a pin under a bowling ball, his back hitting the ground hard to the sound of Holly's hysterical shrieks.

“Samson! Cut it out! Dammit Samson!” Worried by the alien, high ululating sounds now coming from Holly, Justin tried to push the amorous dog off of him to get up, but Samson was determined to lick his face. He'd pushed the big black beast away and started to sit up, only to be knocked back as the dog crawled onto his chest to try to get in another lick.

“Yes, hello,” Justin muttered, pushing the dog's head away again. “What the devil's wrong with you? You have better manners than this.”

“Octavius! Heel,” his mother barked, and the dog immediately leapt off of Justin and moved to sit beside Matild Bricker.

“Octavius?” Justin asked with surprise, sitting up in the dirt to eye the dog with amazement. The last time he'd seen Octavius was six or seven months ago. The dog had been a fluffy little ball of black fur then. Born half the weight of his littermates, he hadn't been expected to live, but Justin had been visiting when Octavius's mother had given birth and he'd nursed the little guy, bottle-­feeding him several times a day. By the time he'd left, the dog had doubled in weight and been as happy and exuberant as his brothers and sisters.

“He's grown a bit,” his mother said dryly, bending to pet the dog, who sat quivering excitedly beside her, his adoring gaze firmly on Justin. “And he's usually very well behaved for a puppy, but it looks like he remembers you.”

“This is really Octavius?” Justin asked with disbelief as he got to his feet and brushed himself down.

“It is,” his mother assured him with a faint smile. “Eight months old and he weighs more than his father, Samson, now.”

Shaking his head, Justin moved forward to pet the big fellow, smiling with pride at how well the puppy had turned out. It had been worth every bottle-­feeding, he decided now.

“Perhaps you should look after your friend,” his mother said solemnly. “I'll take Octavius to the kennels while she's here.”

“Oh, but I wanted her to meet the dogs,” Justin protested, glancing back to the car and frowning when he saw Holly's clenched expression through the car window. Honest to God, she had the same expression Lucian and Leigh's babies got when they were dropping a particularly hard dirty in their diaper. He wouldn't have been surprised to hear she was taking a dump on the front seat.

“She's not taking a dump on your front seat,” his mother assured him on a laugh, and then in more solemn tones said, “But she
is
terrified, Justin. Why on earth didn't you call ahead and tell me that she was terrified of dogs? I would have made sure they were all in the kennel before you got here.”

“She's not terrified of dogs,” he said, turning to his mother with surprise. “She loves them.”

Matild Bricker looked dubious at this claim and then turned back to peer at Holly. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don't know who told you that girl loves dogs, but they were wrong. She was mauled by a pack of wild dogs at three and has been terrified of them ever since.”

“What?” he squawked with dismay.

His mother nodded, and then turned away, patting her leg. Octavius immediately obeyed the silent order and stood to follow her. But he also glanced back forlornly at Justin as he went, obviously unhappy about leaving him behind.

Mind racing, Justin watched until his mother and Octavius had walked out of sight around the house, and then turned slowly to the car to peer at Holly. Now that Octavius was gone, she looked a touch calmer. Not more than a touch though. She was as white as a sheet and even from where he stood, he could see that she was shaking.

Holly so did not love dogs, he acknowledged grimly. Anders had definitely got that wrong.

Sighing, he opened the driver's door and slid back behind the steering wheel.

“Close the door. The dog might come back,” Holly said at once.

Justin dutifully closed the door, then turned sideways in his seat to take her hands. “It's okay, Holly. Octavius would never hurt you. I promise.”

“But he attacked you,” she protested. “He—­”

“No, honey, he was just excited to see me,” he assured her. “And I wasn't ready for all of his weight coming at me at once.”

“But—­”

“Look,” he interrupted, holding out his hands and arms and turning them over. “No bite marks or scratches. He just wanted to lick me in greeting, honey.” As she looked him over, he added, “I bottle-­fed Octavius as a pup. He apparently recognized me and was happy to see me, that's all.”

“Oh,” Holly whispered.

Justin remained silent as she obviously tried to gather herself.

After a moment, she seemed almost her normal self again. At least, she stopped shaking and some color had come back to her cheeks when she offered him an embarrassed smile and muttered, “Sorry, I must have sounded like a crazy person.”

“No,” Justin lied. She really had been screaming like a loon. And he didn't know what the hell that one alien noise she'd been making had been, it had sounded to his ears like half shriek and half mindless twitter. Yeah, she'd definitely sounded crazy. Pushing that thought aside, he cleared his throat and said, “My mother says you were mauled by dogs as a little girl.”

She nodded her head jerkily, concentrating on taking deep breaths now.

“But Anders told me you love dogs.”

That startled her and she turned to him with surprise. “Why would he say that? I told him about being mauled as a kid.”

Justin's head went back slightly at this news. There was no way the man could have mistaken “I was mauled by dogs as a child,” for “Gosh I love dogs.” His brain ticked that over briefly and then he asked, “What about picnics?”

“What?” she asked with confusion.

“Do you like picnics, but just not on the beach? Or—­”

“Actually, I'm not keen on anything to do with nature,” she admitted apologetically. “Eighteen years in a tent made me a definite city girl. I like four walls and a bathroom . . . and tables and chairs and a bed,” she added firmly.

“Right.” Justin nodded slowly. “And flowers?”

“No,” she said with a grimace. “They make me think of death ever since starting at the cemetery.”

“I can see how that could be,” he said grimly. “What about wine? Do you like wine?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Wine is just vinegar with a fancy name.”

“Fish?” he queried.

“Can't stand it, head on or off,” she admitted, and then added, “Well, unless it's battered and deep fried. I do like fish-­and-­chips-­type fish. Just can't stand the rest of it.”

“Right,” Justin said wearily, lifting his hands to massage his temples.

Holly eyed him curiously, and then suddenly asked, “Did Anders say I liked all those things?”

He nodded grimly.

“Wow,” she said with a frown. “I wonder why. I mean I told them all of this stuff that day in the restaurant while you were off on your walk.”

“I know why,” Justin said grimly. He was also pretty sure Decker had been in on the deal as well. The two had been messing with him. Paying him back for the hard time he'd given each of them when they'd met their life mates. The bastards were probably sitting in Canada right now laughing their asses off as they imagined him trying to woo Holly with everything she hated. Payback was indeed a bitch, he thought grimly.

“Why?” Holly asked when he didn't explain himself.

Rather than answer, Justin opened his door and got out. “Come on. They've put the dog in the kennel. It's safe.”

Holly didn't exactly rush to follow him, but after a hesitation, she did open her car door and get out. After braving a ­couple of steps though, she paused and said, “I feel terrible that they had to put the dog away. Maybe I should just wait here in the car while you visit with your parents.”

Translation, she couldn't see the dogs but knew they were here somewhere and was terrified enough that she'd rather sit in the car and wait then come inside. Feeling terrible about the dog having to be put away was just an excuse, he knew.

Pausing, he turned and moved back to take her arm.

“It's okay,” Justin assured her quietly, urging her forward. “I won't let anyone or anything hurt you. Besides, Holly, you're not a helpless three-­year-­old child anymore. You're an immortal. You could have snapped Octavius's neck, or ripped his jaw in half had he attacked you,” he pointed out, and then added quickly, “Not that he would. He only jumped on me to try to lick my face. My parents' dogs aren't vicious.”

“Dogs?” she asked worriedly. “Like more than one?”

“It's all right, dear.”

Justin glanced forward to see that his mother had returned and was waiting in the shade of the terrace.

“Leave her with me and go greet your father,” she suggested. “I'll take care of her.”

Justin smiled his relief at his mother. “Thank you. Mom, this is Holly. Holly, this is my mother.”

“Hello,” Holly said politely, holding out her hand as they joined her.

His mother grinned at the politely offered hand and then took it to pull Holly into her arms for a hug. “Welcome to the family, dear.”

Justin's eyes widened in horror and he shook his head quickly while running his hand across his throat in a slicing action. His mother arched an eyebrow in question at the gesture and then glanced down with surprise when Holly pulled quickly back.

“What?” she squawked, wide eyes flying between Justin and his mother.

“Holly is a friend, mother,” Justin said quickly. “A very
married
friend.”

Now it was his mother's turn to peer from Holly to him wide-­eyed as she squawked, “What?”

Justin heaved a sigh, and then simply said, “Mother, read my mind.”

His mother arched a surprised eyebrow at the request. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that he was usually complaining when she read his mind. But then she shrugged and concentrated on his forehead. A moment passed, then another, and then she let her hands drop and stepped to the side.

“Your father is in his study,” she said quietly. “You go ahead. I'll take Holly to the kitchen for some coffee and cookies.”

“Thank you,” Justin said quietly and then turned to Holly. “Will you be all right?”

“Of course, she will,” his mother assured him, slipping her arm around Holly and turning toward the house. “Go on and see your father,” she suggested. “We'll be waiting in the kitchen.

Justin watched his mother lead Holly inside and toward the back of the house and then followed them in and headed for the study.

“So you breed dogs for a living, Mrs. Bricker?” Holly asked, staring out the kitchen window at a large kennel with half a dozen huge-­looking, bear-­like black dogs either resting or playing inside.

“Call me Mattie,” Justin's mother instructed. “Mrs. Bricker makes me feel so old. Which I am, of course, but no one wants to feel that way.”

Holly turned to peer at the other woman curiously. Matild Bricker was a tall, statuesque blonde who looked no more than twenty-­two or -­three with her ponytail, jeans, and T-­shirt. Despite knowing that immortals all looked in their mid-­twenties, it was still difficult to believe that Justin was her son. Actually, it was difficult to believe what her eyes were seeing when she looked at her. The woman talked like a much older woman than her looks suggested and the contrast was continually confusing to the mind. Holly watched the other woman carry a tray of coffee and cookies to the table beside her.

“As for the dogs, they're more a passion than a living.” Matild Bricker set down her tray and then straightened and glanced out the window at the kenneled animals. “Dogs are wonderful creatures. They never judge, don't care what you look like, how smart you are, or how much money you have. They just love you and want you to love them.”

Holly turned to peer out at the dogs again.

“The only sad thing is that they have such short life spans,” Matild added on a sigh. “Much shorter than humans, whom I don't like nearly as much.”

The words surprised a laugh from Holly and she turned to glance at Justin's mother with amusement. “Is that a little anti-­mortal sentiment I detect?”

Matild Bricker shook her head and pointed out, “I did say humans, not mortals. Both mortals and immortals can be complete shites at times.”

Holly chuckled at that and moved to sit at the table as Justin's mother did. She then grimaced and admitted, “That's kind of depressing. I was rather hoping immortals might be a little more impressive than mortals. I'd think after living so long, they'd . . .”

“Be better versions of themselves?” Matild suggested when she hesitated.

Holly nodded.

“Sadly, age doesn't always mean wisdom,” Matild said solemnly. “Some do improve with age, shedding the rough edges of youth and growing into good ­people. But others . . .” She shrugged. “Depending on their experiences, immortals can get twisted up by time and events and go rogue. That's why we need men like Justin out there.” Patting her hand gently, she added, “Immortals are no better than mortals as ­people, Holly. They just have longer to make mistakes. Fortunately, they often also have the time to fix those mistakes.”

Holly was silent for a moment as she doctored the coffee Mrs. Bricker set before her and then she glanced at her and said, “You're being very kind to me, considering.”