The Single Undead Moms Club (Half Moon Hollow series Book 4) (23 page)

“Mr. Wade has a beard, too,” I reminded him.

“Not the same thing,” Danny insisted. “Mr. Wade’s beard goes all the way up his cheeks.”

Andrea bit her lip so hard I was afraid she would draw blood. I glanced at Jane, who threw her hands up in the international gesture of
I tried to warn you
.

“What is this?” Finn asked, his eyebrows arched.

“This is Danny. My son,” I said, staring at him, challenging.

Finn shook his head and in an amused tone told me, “I know he’s your son, Libby. And I know he’s the reason you wanted to be turned. I meant, what is this about a bad-guy beard?”

“All the bad guys on my cartoons have beards like that,” Danny informed him, pointing to the neatly trimmed goatee on Finn’s chin.

“Danny,” I warned quietly, pulling my son’s hands out of biting range. But to my surprise, rather than looking annoyed, Finn snorted and knelt down to Danny’s eye level.

“No, no, it’s true, cartoon villains are partial to facial hair. It’s a scientific fact,” Finn agreed. He extended his hand to Danny. “But you’ll find that in real life, the villains are a little harder to spot. Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Finn.”

Danny gave Finn’s hand a manly shake. “I’ll be watching you.”

That delighted grin broke across Finn’s face again. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Why don’t you go start on the downtown section?” I asked Danny, scooting him toward Dick as I stood.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Finn,” Danny said, running toward his favorite vampire.

“What if I shave it off?” Finn called after Danny.

“I’ll still know it’s there!” Danny yelled back, making Finn snicker again.

“Sorry about that,” I said, my lips twitching.

“I can respect a healthy reluctance to trust a strange man with designs on his mom,” Finn said with a shrug. Jane made a disdainful grunting noise, which Finn ignored. “What’s the downtown section?”

“My son is recreating Gotham City. Out of biscotti.”

“No one eats the biscotti,” Andrea muttered.

“Because they’re like cookies, only drier and harder to eat,” I told her.

“Well, this complicates things.” Finn sighed.

I pursed my lips. I had been expecting this. Dating when you had a child was complicated. I hadn’t actually done it yet, what with the deadly disease and all, but even when I had been well and felt strong enough to take off my wedding ring, the moment I mentioned my son to a man who seemed interested in me, I could see the shutters behind his eyes close. I was disappointed that I saw the same from Finn. I’d expected more, somehow, as if he should have better perspective because of his immortality.

“Because after seeing you with your son, now I have to like you as a person, too,” Finn said, as if this was a great burden. “And here I was hoping for a relationship built on chemistry and dimples.”

“Aw.” Andrea sighed. When Jane glared at her, she cleared her throat and said, “Right, back to the coffee bar where it’s safe. Come on, Jane.”

Andrea caught Jane through the crook of her elbow and tried to lift her from her seat. When Jane resisted, Andrea picked up the envelope and waved it in her face. Jane screwed up her face with disgust but allowed Andrea to haul her away.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, which was pointless, because all of the vampires in the shop were going to hear me regardless of what I did.

“I wanted to see you, and I wanted to make clear to Jane that her embargo wasn’t going to stand. As long as you don’t have a problem with me visiting you, the Council shouldn’t be able to stop that.” At that, the tiny demitasse cup Jane was holding shattered in her hands. We turned to look at her, and she smiled blithely, shuffling the shards of porcelain from her fingers. Finn rolled his eyes and cupped my chin in his hand. “Do you . . . want me to visit you?”

“I don’t know,” I told him.

“Hey, this is an important part of a relationship, right? Awkwardly introducing each other to the lesser-known areas of our lives? How else would I know about your son’s passion for cookie architecture or that your first name is Liberty?” When I groaned, he added, “I saw it on Jane’s paperwork.”

“Is that what this is, a relationship?” I asked.

“I’d like it to be the beginnings of one.”

“Then I think you should know that I’m seeing someone else.”

Finn scoffed. “Yes, your motorcycle enthusiast. I have heard tales. I like my chances on this one.”

I snorted. Of course Finn would see himself as the natural choice over Wade. He wasn’t being snobby or rude. That was just who he was, confident and secure in himself to the end. Part of what made him so charming was what made me want to smack him.

“So, Danny’s father?” Finn asked. When I raised my brows, he added, “I didn’t get a
thorough
look at your file.”

“Passed a few years ago.”

“It’s not going to be easy on you, you know, taking care of a child on your own,” he said.

“It’s never been easy.”

“But growing up without a father, you know how hard that’s going to be on Danny as well.”

“Are you trying to make a point, Finn?” I asked, my voice going several degrees colder.

“I’m just wondering, do you ever regret not knowing your father?”

“I regret not applying myself more in geometry. And most of my fashion choices during my adolescence. But it’s hard to regret something you’ve never had.”

“I was just curious,” he said.

“Well, be curious about something else,” I snapped. I regretted my waspish tone, but I didn’t like being asked these questions by someone I barely knew. And I was getting tired of explaining myself—to the Council, to the courts, to the PTA.

But Finn seemed unaffected. He grinned cheekily. “OK, I’m curious about what you will be doing next weekend, as I would like to take you out to an interesting little spot that serves specialty blood. Perfectly legal specialty donor blood.”

“Next weekend, I have plans,” I told him, thinking of my date with Wade.

“And the weekend after that?”

“I may have other plans,” I said.

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” he asked, dark eyes twinkling.

“You don’t want me to make it easy for you. That wouldn’t be fun for you.”

He moved in fast, giving me an unexpected peck on the lips, which made me take two steps back. He grinned, despite my sudden movement. “See, you already know me so well!”

Several nights later, I stood
at the kitchen window, watching the moonlight filter through the tree limbs, painting the elaborate landscaping in the backyard in a silvery wash. I would miss the flowers, come spring. It was a small sacrifice, but I would definitely miss the bright colors of the day. I thought about a poem we’d read in high school about Persephone’s garden and the elaborate, but false, flowers she’d constructed out of gems and precious metals the god of the Underworld gave his lonely, depressed bride to try to keep her happy. I wondered if this was some ancient Greek fable to explain seasonal affective disorder.

Jane had insisted that I attend another Newly Emerged Vampires meeting the night before and she made me sit next to Crybaby Bob, with his decidedly unposh London accent, who ended up crying every time he was asked for an update on the strained relationships with his family.

“I just miss them all so much,” Bob blubbered, slugging down what had to be his fifth bloodyccino since we’d started the meeting. “It’s not fair that they’ve cut me off from the whole family. I’m not allowed to go to Christmas this year, can you believe that?”

Frankly, I was surprised Bob’s family hadn’t set him on fire just to prevent his whining.

Despite Jane’s best efforts, membership in the NEV group was a mixed bag. I was starting to make some friends, but the meetings weren’t a lot of fun. I still didn’t know what my vampire power was, but Jane insisted that was normal. I was, however, learning lots of new tips and tricks for ignoring human food smells, so I could feel like I was more a part of Danny’s dinnertimes. Andrea even gave me a polished egg-sized pink quartz crystal to keep in my palm, so I could picture all of my discomfort and negative energy being absorbed into its milky surface.

And as an added bonus to NEV membership, there were several vampire-owned businesses in town that not only wanted to use my bookkeeping service but were also happy to donate items to the Pumpkin Patch raffle. This was increasingly important, as the deadline was looming and businesses that had supported the event for years had suddenly instituted “budget cuts” when I called.

Somehow I’d cobbled together a network of supportive people—Kerrianne, Jane, Andrea, Miss Steele, Mr. Walsh, Wade. In fact, when Kerrianne wasn’t available, Wade and I had come to depend on each other for babysitting help.

For instance, tonight I was home, watching the kids. Wade was working on a special project at his shop, some custom part for a special-order bike that he wanted to finish in time for the weekend so we could keep our drive-in plans. So I was keeping Harley for dinner and homework time. Wade had promised to take the boys to see some very loud, obnoxious cartoon the next week to even things out.

I was composing a list of excuses for why I couldn’t go to the next NEV meeting—new-fang cramps, Danny had homework, emergency meeting of the Pumpkin Patch committee,
Dancing with the Stars
marathon—when a large figure emerged from the trees in my backyard. I suppressed a grin, wondering what exotic shape Jed had selected for this evening. Fins? Fur? Fangs?

I stared at the shape lumbering about in the backyard. It would seem that he’d gone with none of the above. In fact, he looked downright human, which was sort of boring. He was a tall human, with a broader build, but still human. I lifted my hand to wave. After a long moment, he waved back.

“This form needs some work,” I muttered.

“Mom, I don’t think Harley feels too good.”

I turned to see Harley and Danny standing behind me. Harley’s cheeks were flushed, and his blue eyes were glassy as marbles, a quick descent from the condition I had found him in when I rose for the evening. Kerrianne had mentioned that Harley had been a little “draggy” when she’d picked the kids up from school. I should have known that was a child-health red flag for impending immune-system meltdown.

Harley sneezed loudly and looked utterly miserable.

“Your shoes are tight,” Danny told him, patting Harley’s matted blond hair.

“I don’t think tight shoes makes you sneeze,” Harley said, sneezing louder, even as I wiped at his dripping nose with a tissue.

“Your shoes are tight again” was Danny’s reply.

“
Gesundheit
, honey,” I reminded him, laughing. “It’s
Gesundheit
. It means ‘bless you’ in German. Why don’t you get Harley a juice box from the fridge?”

“That makes more sense,” Danny reasoned, fetching the juice and poking a straw into the box. Harley let loose one final ear-splitting sneeze. I grabbed the digital ear thermometer from the medicine cabinet.

“Bless you in German,” Danny told him.

“No, that’s not—” I shook my head. “Never mind.”

“My head hurts,” Harley said, crossing to the sink and leaning his face against my arm. His forehead was burning up. I didn’t need a thermometer or vampire senses to know that he had a fever.

“Harley, honey, I think we need to get you into a cool bath. Danny, grab my phone off the charger. We need to call Mr. Wade, OK?”

I carried Harley upstairs to the guest bath, running a tub as cool as I thought Harley could tolerate. According to the ear thermometer, his temperature was 102.3, not dangerous but definitely not a symptom to ignore, particularly with his asthma.

I let Harley put a pair of Danny’s swim trunks on, for both our sakes, before he climbed into the tub. His poor little lips were quivering, and his teeth chattered, even though the bathwater was lukewarm. As I dialed Wade’s number, I called to Danny to knock on Miss Nola’s door and explain the situation.

“Hey, baby doll, everythin’ OK?” Wade yelled over the whine of machinery in the background. I set the phone to speaker.

“No. I’m sorry to bother you, but Harley’s not feeling well. He’s got a fever and a runny nose.”

“You put him in a bath yet?”

“I’m in here now, Daddy, and it’s cold!” Harley shouted irritably.

“That usually works, but he’ll fight you like a pissed-off cat,” Wade said.

“Really? He didn’t give me any trouble, other than some pitiful looks.”

Wade harrumphed. “Clearly, he likes you better than me.”

“Clearly.”

Nola, bless her, was there in a flash, medical bag in hand, and took the phone from me so she could ask Wade some questions about Harley’s asthma medication. I kept myself busy mopping Harley’s head with Danny’s Ninja Turtles loofah.

Once Harley’s tooth chattering was reduced to a less castanet-like state, we let him out of the tub and dried him off. Danny had already fetched his favorite Ninja Turtles pajamas, which were about a size and a half too small for Harley, but the poor baby didn’t complain.

“You, sir, have a nice, solid upper-respiratory infection going,” Nola informed him after examining him. “It’s nothing too serious, but it’s probably a good thing we caught it before it got worse.”

“Am I going to have to take medicine?”

“I’ll call Dr. Hackett and ask him to call something in to the pharmacy,” Nola told me. Harley groaned, and Nola brushed his damp hair back from his forehead. “I’ll make sure they add the bubble-gum flavoring, OK, darlin’? Can Wade pick it up?”

I nodded, and Danny suddenly sneezed, spraying the side of my face with spit and who knew what else. Nola handed me a wet wipe and then curved her hands under Danny’s jaw, feeling his lymph nodes.

“If I didn’t know I was immune to whatever biohazards are on my face right now, I would be really upset,” I told her, wiping at my cheeks. “Nope, I am upset either way.”

“Danny, do you and Harley share everything?” Nola asked, carefully cupping her hands under Danny’s jaw to feel for swelling. “Like your pencils, your hats, maybe your water bottles?”