A Cup of Normal (15 page)

He pressed the handle of a small paper bag into her hands. “A token. If you ever wish to stop in again.”

“No, no. I don’t think —”

He stepped back, quickly and smoothly out of her reach so she’d have to follow him around the couches to give him back the bag.

That was when she noticed everyone in the room was silent, knitting. They were all smiling. Enjoying this. None of them looked at her, but she could tell they all thought this little exchange was funny. Fine. She’d come back tomorrow and get her answer. Let them have their laugh.

“Thank you,” she said, pouring on the sugar, and not meaning a word of it. “It’s been lovely meeting you all.”

She walked down the stairs without stomping, and stormed across the floor. All she had wanted was some time to browse, and maybe a chance to buy the store. Was that too much to ask?

She yanked the door open, and nearly ran into the woman standing there.

“May I come in?” The woman was beautiful. Even when Maddie was young and in great shape she had never been that pretty.

The woman’s long, straight hair was so blonde it was silver in the lamplight. Her kitten-wide eyes were green and lined with thick lashes. Her lips were full and perfect, brushed with red lipstick. When she smiled, Maddie realized she could not look away.

“Please,” the woman asked. “May I come in? There’s a class tonight.”

“Oh,” Maddie said, catching her breath. “Right. Come on in. They’re all upstairs.”

A wicked light sparked in the woman’s eyes, and was gone before Maddie could blink. “Thank you,” the woman purred.

Maddie moved out of the way and the woman stepped over the threshold and into the yarn shop. She moved like a dancer, smooth and silent, her face tipped upward toward the stairs as if following a string. She licked her lips and smiled.

She must really love knitting.

Maddie walked out. As she turned to shut the door, she noticed the woman’s bag. Black, bulky, it looked more like an old-fashioned doctor’s bag than a knitting bag. And as the woman climbed the stairs, she opened it and pulled out a pair of metal needles, each as thick as a tent stake, filed to a razor’s edge.

*

One thing Maddie could say for Jan, she was a cop, through and through. Even though she was off-duty and had probably had more than one beer, her smile faded as soon as Maddie stormed into the bar and plunked down on the stool next to her.

“Gin and tonic,” she told the bartender. He nodded. But instead of getting on with the drink mixing, he leaned forward and flirted with the little jail bait downing shots of tequilla in front of him.

Men.

“Did you get a look at his driver’s license?” Jan asked.

“What?”

“The guy who pissed you off. It will make it easier for me when I pull his files and find out if there’s anything worth throwing him in jail for.”

Maddie put both elbows on the bar and rubbed at her temples. “That obvious?”

Jan shrugged. “You almost burned a hole in the back of the bartender’s head. Want to tell me about it?”

“No. There was a man at the yarn store, he said there was a class and invited me to stay, and I thought, I thought . . .” She took a deep breath and crossed her arms on the bar, looking over at Jan. “I thought he was coming on to me. Flirting, you know? So I flirted back. But he was just playing me to fill out the ranks of the knitting class. Some other women came in, younger than me, prettier, and he tossed me to the side. I felt like such an idiot.”

“Glad you decided not to tell me about it. Did you get this cad’s name?”

“Stop making fun of me.”

Jan grinned. “Stop making it so easy. I can’t believe you’re upset because someone flirted with you and you liked it.”

The bartender finally sauntered over, placed her drink down without even looking at her, and walked away.

“Fine,” Maddie said. “I liked the flirting. But did he have to crush my fantasy?” She smiled ruefully.

Jan raised her eyebrows in question.

“You know, that we’d fall in love at first sight. His favorite pastime would be doing dishes and going grocery shopping. I’d find out I was the long lost heiress to a fortune and we’d run away to someplace warm and sandy and make passionate love . . .” Maddie lifted her glass. “To reality. What a bitch.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jan said, raising her own glass. “To Fantasy Crusher what’s-his-name.”

“Saint Archer,” Maddie provided.

Jan’s mood changed. She frowned. Took a drink of her beer.

“You know him, don’t you?” Maddie asked.

“Yes.”

“Is he a criminal?”

“No comment.”

“Interesting. Witness protection program?”

“Okay, we’re going to change subjects now,” Jan informed her in her no-bullshit cop voice.

“Come on. You know something about him. Something bad, right?” Maddie took another drink, the warmth spreading out in her stomach and echoing back through her muscles. “It would cheer me up,” she said. “Indecent exposure? Tax evasion? He runs a pornographic flower shop in his basement?”

“Not that I know of,” Jan said. “Just the yarn store.”

“What?” Maddie said. “I thought he worked there.”

Okay, the truth? One look at him and she had stopped thinking.

“So he owns the store?” Maddie asked.

“Yup.”

“So . . . he’s gay?”

Jan laughed so hard she snorted. “It’s not on record, if that’s what you’re asking. Still. You know better than to assume things about people.” She lifted her glass and muttered into it, “No one in this city is what they seem to be.”

“But he has a record?”

Jan just gave her a look and took another drink of beer. She emptied half the glass, thunked it on the counter and refused to answer.

Maddie took another drink and thought it over. Maybe it didn’t matter, but she had to ask anyway. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

“Would I let you go anywhere, alone, if I thought you were in danger?” Jan downed the last of her beer. “I’m going to the bathroom. Get me another beer, will you?” She was no longer smiling.

“Sure,” Maddie said. And she didn’t even point out that Jan had not answered her question.

Jan got her smile back when Tony Brown strolled into the bar. Tony worked for the city and he and Jan had the kind of history that lead to him buying Jan another couple beers, and them getting a table.

Maddie moped her way through another gin, then decided to call it a night. She handed her card to the bartender and her elbow brushed the little bag Archer had given her. She’d been so angry walking to the bar that she hadn’t even looked in it.

She opened the bag and angled to see inside.

Two skeins of yarn caught light like summer fire, and a slick set of needles glinted dark beside them.

Maddie couldn’t help herself. She gasped like she’d just found a kitten and pulled the yarn out of the bag. The fiber was exquisitely soft, with enough loft it promised warmth and shape and drape. Cashmere and silk. With a beautiful set of knitting needles.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was her sense of pride, or maybe it was watching Jan and Tony inch closer and closer together at the table.

Yeah, probably that last thing.

But whatever it was, Maddie knew she wanted to keep that skein of yarn near her forever, to hold it and fondle it and savor the possibilities of what it could become with a little time, a little hope and a lot of patience.

And she knew, just as quickly, that she had to return it.

This wasn’t a token. This was a gift with strings attached. Well, just one long string, but still. That was attached. To a man whose name took her best friend’s smile away.

Maddie settled her bill and told Jan she was headed home and was going to catch a cab.

Jan told her she shouldn’t go home alone and even started to put on her coat, much to an obviously disappointed Tony, until Maddie finally convinced her that she was plenty old enough to get home on her own. And then she made Tony promise to call a cab for both of them when the night wound down.

But instead of going home, Maddie marched back to the yarn shop.

The lantern outside the door was still on, and a light from one of the upper windows glowed brightly. The front window was dark, though. Maddie wasn’t sure if the shop was open. Archer said people lingered, and it had only been maybe two hours since she left.

She walked up to the door and tried it. The door opened, so she stepped in.

The lamp at the back of the room near the counter was on. But other than the faint light tumbling down the staircase, it was dark.

Something felt wrong about the room. Maddie thought about dropping the bag on the counter for Archer to find in the morning, but the door was unlocked, which meant they weren’t closed for the night. Someone still had to be here.

A shuffling sound, like something being dragged across the floor on the upper floor made Maddie’s heart pound. Okay, maybe she should just go back outside, get a cab, and get the hell home.

Forget about leaving the yarn on the counter. Maddie hurried to the love seats and placed the bag on the table between them. That would have to be good enough.

The click of the door closing behind her made every nerve in Maddie’s body scream.

She turned, hoping, and dreading, it would be Archer.

“Hello, pet,” a woman’s voice cooed.

It was not Archer. It was the beautiful woman who Maddie had let into the shop. She held two very bloody knitting needles in her hand.

“I just came back to return the yarn,” Maddie said, trying to think faster than her heart was beating.

“Aren’t you sweet?” The woman tipped her head to one side, her ear nearly touching her shoulder. She inhaled. “Had a hard time of it the last few years, haven’t you?” She straightened and clutched the knitting needles tighter. “Cancer. How sad. How alone.” She glided forward. “Leyola can cure your pain,” she sing-songed. “Leyola knows just what you crave.”

Maddie was caught in her gaze. Even though it was dark in the room, it was as if a single light shone on the woman, illuminated her, made her incandescent, beautiful.

Something in the back of Maddie’s mind was screaming — her reason, she thought — but she couldn’t care less. She wanted to do anything the woman told her to do, wanted Leyola to take her pain away.

The woman was close now. Close enough that Maddie could see her more clearly. Her beautiful face had gone feral, eyes black without even a speck of white or color, jaw elongated, fangs dripping with blood.

Holy shit. She was a vampire.

Okay, maybe it was a little late in the game for her to put two and two together, but vampires weren’t real. Sure, she’d heard of kids who liked to pretend they were vampires — it was popular in the high schools — but this chick wasn’t a kid. And from the bloody knitting needles and fangs, she sure as hell wasn’t playing around.

“You will give yourself to me.” Leyola opened her mouth and bent toward Maddie’s neck.

And even though every nerve in her body ached for this, for her touch, for her mouth, Maddie took a step backward.

“No.” It came out low, strong, born of years of anger against a disease that had nearly destroyed her. Maddie focused her mind, calmed her thoughts and put all her will behind it. “My body is my own,” she said.

The woman jerked back as if she had been slapped. “That,” she said, “will be your end.”

She lunged.

Maddie got her hands up, banking on her coat to keep Leyola’s teeth from tearing into her skin. But Leyola slammed into her, knocking her backward. Maddie stumbled, trying to catch her balance and landed hard on the couch.

She needed a weapon. Now. Maddie scrambled back on the couch, her heels kicking into the soft cushions. The bag was just behind her, and in it were the needles.

Leyola strolled over to her, fingernails tapping against the needles in her hand. “You may deny death,” she purred, “but you will not deny me.”

Maddie yelled. She stretched to reach the bag.

A roar filled the room. Maddie rolled off the couch, caught up the bag and pulled the needles out.

She crouched, and thrust the needles upward.

But Leyola was not there.

Maddie blinked, trying to make sense of the scene before her.

Someone was fighting with the woman. A man. Archer.

His shirt was off revealing the hard, defined muscles of his chest and stomach. The low light from the lamp painted him gold — a warrior from some ancient time. He and Leyola circled each other, speaking a language that made Maddie wish she’d taken Russian in college.

Maddie caught a glimpse of a tattoo spread across the back of Archer’s shoulder — an angel in flight — and a trail of blood pouring over his ribs.

Leyola had circled so that her back was now toward Maddie. Archer said something to her, a warning. A command.

But Leyola only laughed and threw herself, needles and fangs, at Archer.

Everything suddenly seemed to happen very, very slowly.

Leyola, in mid-air, contorted like a gymnast, her feet hitting the ground lightly as a cat, then pushed, not toward Archer, but toward Maddie.

Archer launched, a growl escaping his lips, his arms, hands, body, straining to reach Leyola.

Maddie still crouched, set herself, feet strong beneath her, shoulder forward, knitting needles in her hand, ready for the impact.

Inhale.

Leyola bore down on her.

Archer plucked Leyola out of the air. Rolled her over his hip. Pinned her to the floor. He shoved his knee in her back and held both her wrists in his hands.

Exhale.

Time snapped back into real speed again.

“Maddie,” Archer said, his voice a little husky. When she didn’t respond, he glanced over his shoulder at her.

His hair hung wild around his face, and his eyes burned electric blue. Leyola beneath him squirmed and cursed. Archer’s muscles flexed, but he kept her pinned.

Maddie found she was breathing hard, caught by his gaze and fully aware of how much she liked the primal hunger in his eyes, his anger, and his fear for her.

But it was his mouth that fascinated her most. His lips were parted, revealing fangs that grazed his bottom lip, pressing against the soft curve there, almost puncturing. Maddie wondered what it would feel like to kiss those lips, to feel the scrape of his mouth against hers. To open herself to his tastes, his textures.