Broken Heart 04 Wait till Your Vampire Gets Home (17 page)

“That’s not fair, Libby. You know damned well we have something amazing together.”

“Only I can’t compartmentalize. I can’t separate you from the other parts of my life. I’m all in, Ralph. Everything, and everyone, that comes with you.”

“Are you, Libby?” He shook his head. “If you could leave Broken Heart right now, you would. You’re only here because you don’t have a choice.”

“You’re right. I’m only in Broken Heart because I don’t have a choice,” I said. I would not cry, damn it. “I’m standing here, with you, because I want to. That’s a choice.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but I held up my hand. I’d had enough drama. Everything was mixed-up and crazy. I’d come to Broken Heart to investigate reports of paranormal activity. Instead, I’d become a dragon and fallen in love with a vampire.

“Just call the nanny,” I said wearily. “Do you want the couch?”

“No. I have to sleep in the bedroom. It’s been sun-proofed. I have a sleeping bag that will do until I can get the bed replaced.”

“Okay. Do you have extra pillows and blankets?”

“Yeah.”

“Daddy! Daddy!” Michael and Stephen ran into the hallway. Ralph had already tucked them into footie pajamas with the familiar theme of trains.

Ralph bent down and scooped up his boys. “Michael. Stephen. Say hello to Libby.”

“Ibby!” shouted Michael, clapping his hands. “Ibby! Ibby! Ibby!”

Stephen considered me thoughtfully, his bow-shaped lips pursed. Then he waved at me with one tiny hand. They were so cute.

“Hi,” I said. “What kind of monkeys are you?” Then I tickled their ribs. They giggled and writhed.

“Whoa,” said Ralph, trying to juggle them both. He gave each boy a sloppy kiss.

“Story!” yelled Michael. “Read story!”

As a child, my favorite nightly tale had been
Goodnight Moon
by Margaret Wise Brown. Surprisingly, my parents had chosen traditional bedtime stories. It was the bed that was untraditional . . . usually the pull-out in an RV or a cot in a hotel.

“Goodnight room, goodnight moon, goodnight cow jumping over the moon,” I quoted.

“Goodnight wight,” said Stephen in a serious little voice. “And red bawoon.”

“That’s right,” said Ralph. He looked both surprised and pleased. “You know
Goodnight Moon
?”

“I was a kid once,” I said. “And yeah, that was my favorite book.”

“Theirs, too.” He seemed to realize he’d been gazing tenderly at me. He cleared his throat and looked away. “C’mon, kiddos. Time to brush your teeth, and then we’ll read a story.”

“No brush teeth,” said Michael, pouting. His brother mirrored the expression, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“Here we go,” said Ralph, chuckling. He glanced at me. “This might take a while.”

I took the hint. Ralph wanted to spend time with his sons, and I wasn’t part of that routine. I probably never would be. I wanted the whole package, and if Ralph wasn’t part of the deal, then I didn’t want to stay in Broken Heart any longer than I had to. Yeah, okay. Now that I was paranormal, too, it was probably smarter to stay here than to live in the human world as a half dragon, half dork.

I went into the living room and looked at the clock. After Ralph went to bed, I’d sneak a phone call. I needed to talk to Mom and call off the rescue mission.

I was glad she and Dad were okay, but I no longer wanted PRIS anywhere near Broken Heart. These people had enough problems without alerting humans to their presence. I couldn’t bear the thought of Ralph and his boys facing that kind of scrutiny.

I looked through the books on the shelf in the living room, which was a mixture of children’s books, legal thrillers, horror novels, and medical texts. I chose
Graverobbers Wanted (No Experience Necessary)
by Jeff Strand, then got cozy on the couch and started to read.

The book wasn’t one that made you drowsy. In fact, every mundane noise took on an ominous tone. I draped myself in the throw that lay over the back of the couch. It was silly to seek protection from a mere blanket, but being covered up made me feel better.

Ack. It was so cold in the house! I looked around until I found the thermostat. It was set at sixty-eight degrees. No wonder I was freezing. I changed the gauge to seventy-two degrees. The heat kicked on.

I adjusted my position, settling deeper into the cushions.

The television blared to life.

“Aaaaaaahhhhh!” The book went flying as I leapt to my feet, my heart thundering. CNN rotated through the usual worldly horrors while I tried to figure out how the TV had turned on by itself.

“Melvin?” I asked cautiously. “Are you there?”

Chapter 18

Melvin could’ve been taking a nap or visiting Patsy or whispering madly in my ear. I was incapable of communicating with him. I didn’t sense any ghost, attached to me or not.

After a moment, I calmed down. I picked up the book and the blanket, and then turned around. My gaze snagged on the remote control; it had been wedged between the cushions where I was sitting.

I laughed. Everything didn’t have a supernatural explanation, after all. My ass had turned on the damned thing. Sighing with relief, I folded the throw and put it back.

I picked up the remote, sat on the couch, and pined for Ralph.

“In Tulsa, a rash of unexplained arson fires continues unabated. The most recent blaze happened only hours ago and took out the top three floors of the Crowne Plaza Hotel.”

The picture shifted from the serious, well-coiffed newscasters to video footage of the raging fire. I couldn’t hear the song of that horrifying blaze, and I was glad. It appeared I had to be within physical range to hear its music.

“Twenty-two people were injured,” intoned the anchor. “Investigators say the arson fires were started on the tops of buildings. The locations seem random: an abandoned house on the north side of Tulsa, a kennel that specializes in training guard dogs, a nightclub in Brookside, and a bakery in the Woodland Hills area.”

Started on the tops of buildings? Like a dragon might have lobbed a fireball at ’em? I watched the montage of images. The abandoned house was an old mansion, one of the many that had been built in Tulsa’s oil boom days and fallen into disrepair. Perfect vampire hidey-hole. And the kennel? Hel-
lo.
Werewolves. The nightclub was easy, too. Any nocturnal paranormal creature could frequent it. The bakery . . . well, that one didn’t make sense unless Mr. Dragon had a vendetta against cupcakes. The hotel didn’t make sense, either.

I sighed and flopped against the couch. What did it matter? I sure as hell didn’t want to contact the police; no one would believe it was an Honest-to-God dragon causing all the fires. Besides, if it was a paranormal problem, it seemed to me there would be a paranormal solution.

I picked up Jeff Strand’s book and started reading again. It was scary, but hilarious, too. I’d never read anything like it.

“Hey,” said Ralph. He wore only his pajama bottoms. He looked so sexy that I wanted to nibble on him. He glanced at the book and grinned. “Eva recommended that series to me. Never thought gore could be that funny.”

He held up a pillow and blanket. I met him halfway and took the bedding. “You look tired.”

“Vampires don’t choose their bedtimes,” he said. “Sunrise means we’re literally dead to the world.”

“Did you get hold of Mera?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I got a better offer.” He tugged the bedding he’d just given to me out of my hands and tossed it to the couch. Then he pulled me into his embrace and brushed his lips over mine. “You still up for watching two ornery little boys?”

“Really?” I leaned back and gazed at him. “Why? Was Mera unavailable?”

“I didn’t call to find out.” He cupped my chin. “The boys like you. And they’re pretty smart. Besides, anyone who knows
Goodnight Moon
by heart is my kinda gal.”

He kissed me, then pulled back.

We stared at each other, moon-eyed, and then he sighed. “If I don’t go now, I’ll pass out. I usually wake up about seven or so.”

“Okay.” I reluctantly stepped out of his embrace. “We’ll see you tonight.”

After Ralph left, I listened for the click of the closed door. Then I made up the couch and looked around for the phone. There wasn’t one in the living room or the kitchen, which left the bedrooms and bathroom. Probably in Ralph’s room, though I didn’t remember seeing one in there. Damn it. Why didn’t he have a freaking telephone?

If I couldn’t call my parents, I had two choices. Let Brady arrive with lasers blazing (no, I’m not kidding), or tell Ralph the truth about why I needed his cell phone.

I was sure if I admitted my deception to Ralph, he’d take away my babysitting privileges. And probably my boinking-the-hot-vampire rights, too. Damn. The situation was my fault. But how could anyone blame me for wanting my freedom?

Reluctantly, I knocked on Ralph’s door. I didn’t get a response, but I opened the door anyway. “Hey, Ralph?”

My heart climbed into my throat and my stomach felt like I’d swallowed bricks. I didn’t want to tell him the truth. I didn’t want him to stop trusting me. I liked how he looked at me like I was the last chocolate truffle in the candy box. Like he couldn’t wait to unwrap me and nibble.

He was already asleep, tucked inside a green sleeping bag. He looked so yummy. I wished I could climb inside with him and touch all his manly parts.

Instead, I looked for his cell phone. I spotted it on the nightstand. I crept around Ralph. Wow. He was so still. He really did look dead, which freaked me out. I guess that was part of the perils of dating a vampire.

I snatched the phone and flipped it open. I hesitated. What if the vampires had some way of tracking phone calls? I mean, they had all kinds of mind juju. Maybe they could pluck conversations right out of the air. I didn’t want to take any chances. I plugged in Mom’s and Brady’s numbers and then sent a text message:
All fine in BH. Stay in TX. Will call soon.

After it sent, I went into Ralph’s inbox and deleted the outgoing message. Jeez. If I was any more paranoid, I’d wipe my fingerprints off the phone.

Not a bad idea. I used my T-shirt to rub it clean and, with it still clutched in my shirt, returned it to the nightstand. Then I crept out of the room and shut the door.

Relief slid through me. I finally felt like everything would be okay. At least for now.

The boys woke me up half past the ass-crack of dawn. Or at least it felt like that. When I actually looked at the clock, it was noon.

I rolled off the couch and sat on the floor, squinting at the two boys running from one end of the living room to the other.

I had no idea what to do. I’d never babysat anything. I’d never even had a pet. Okay. Now was not the time to panic.

“Ibby!” One boy changed direction and jumped onto my lap, throwing his tiny arms around my neck. He grabbed my ears and made my sleep-deprived head waggle. “Ibby!”

This guy was definitely Michael. Stephen stood back, his teddy clutched in one fist, and eyed us suspiciously. I opened one arm. “C’mon, kid.”

He shuffled forward and sat next to me. “Cookie.”

“Right. You need food.”

I managed to create an edible breakfast of toast, orange juice, and dill pickles. I didn’t have a lot to work with. Lunch would be better—at least I hoped so.

The care and feeding of three-year-olds was nearly as draining as battling dragons. Getting them dressed the first time worked out okay, but after a misunderstanding with a jar of grape jelly and then the unfortunate ink pen episode, their third change of clothes almost required intervention by Henry Kissinger. The little buggers were good negotiators. They talked me into three cookies each and at least two piggyback rides, and that didn’t include socks. The price of putting on socks was chocolate pudding.

Once the bribes had been devoured and my back ached from romping through the house, Michael and Stephen were wired by enough sugar to launch themselves to Mars.

We played trains, read books, and colored pictures. We also built castles out of wooden blocks the twins enjoyed knocking down and stomping on like mini Godzillas.

The boys demanded baloney sandwiches for lunch. Baloney and mayonnaise were off my vegan food list. I wasn’t sure baloney was any kind of meat, but it still had that meaty smell. My inner dragon whined just a little.

Chasing after rambunctious toddlers was exhausting. I had to give props to Ralph, who’d taken care of this energetic twosome for three years.

The rest of the afternoon wore on without incident except for one moment in the kitchen. An accidental sock slide across the floor resulted in a skinned knee.

The boys patted my bandaged boo-boo and told me I was very brave.

It was so easy to fall in love with them.

Around four o’clock, the boys fell asleep on the couch watching
Max and Ruby.
I crawled into the recliner and drifted off.

A low, dark pulse of music infiltrated my consciousness. My eyes fluttered open. Michael stood on the couch, clapping his hands. Stephen was curled into a ball, hugging his teddy bear. They were both looking at the ceiling, expectant.