To Hiss or to Kiss (4 page)

I already somewhat miss his weight over me.

I want to whack his back with my arms, but reason wriggles into my brain. I am, after all, snooping on dangerous property and making noise isn’t the best way to go. And he smells really good, like a really fine Scotch—peaty and floral and fresh Highland breeze. Maybe it wasn’t jasmine I smelled before but heather. As if that’s what’s important right now
.
Maybe I should just hit myself over the head to get this awkward encounter over with. But I think better of it and instead use my remaining mental powers to decide if I should try to hear his thoughts again, even though it might expose mine.

Before I make any decisions, he unceremoniously dumps me in a pile of pine needles. We’re in a stand of trees west of the house. My ire begins to rise again, but he cuts me off. “May I take you back to your car?” He’s still whispering as he offers me a hand to stand.

I don’t take it, but I do stand on my own.

I start brushing off pine needles, still hissing to keep my voice low. “Seriously, you want to escort me to my car after hauling me away from trying to help those poor dogs? You pin me down, throw me over your shoulder caveman-style, and now you suddenly want to be polite?” I wish we had better light here so I could see his face to know if his silence is because he feels chagrined or annoyed. I risk opening up my mind and start picking him up right away.
“…quite bungling this. Idiot. Calm down and explain.”

Chagrined, definitely chagrined. That makes me grin, and I snap my mind shut quickly before I give myself away.

“I’m sorry. I’m not accustomed to doing this type of thing.” Frustration laces his voice as he backs away from me a bit.

I start to fear he’s actually going to just leave me here, and I rather irrationally don’t want that. My desperate libido and my scared shitless “I almost got myself caught trespassing on tape” self both agree on this—vehemently.

“You mean following a woman at night and hauling her away from assholes she’s spying on?” I roll my eyes at him, but he probably can’t see that.

“That’s a way to put it.” He pauses, his breathing shallow, in and out, in and out. Or maybe that’s me. And then he steps back toward me, offering his hand again. “My name is Jorge MacKay and I live down the street. I know these people aren’t aboveboard, and I worried when I saw you driving without your lights on.” He says it quickly, the anxiety clear in his voice. He speaks as if he’s a gentleman despite the rough way he handled me. Not that I minded that so much.

I fall back on humor as I reach to give his hand a quick shake. I find I don’t want to let go but make myself. “Jorge MacKay? Didn’t your parents realize that’s a ridiculous multicultural rhyme?” I start giggling softly, my nerves making me easily amused.

He laughs a little too, a bit of the tension dissipating, but he still backs away from me again. “If it helps, in Scotland it’s pronounced Mac
Eye
.”

“I guess. Are you actually from Scotland? Because you don’t have a Scottish accent. I don’t know exactly what your accent is, but it isn’t Scottish.” I shrug, trying to get the giggles under control.

“Well, no, but my parents do live there currently.”

“Doesn’t count.” I’ve never looked for a knight in shining armor; I generally find I’m the best equipped to take care of myself. Yet I walk toward him so I can see his face better and proffer my hand so he can escort me, suddenly brazen in my decision to marginally trust my would-be rescuer. “Come on, then. Take me to my car.”

He very gently reaches out and takes my hand, then turns to lead me away. I’m close enough to smell him again. Funny that he is at least partially Scottish and he smells like fine Scotch.

Yeah, I could drink him right up. Geesh.

When we reach the side of the road, he drops my hand, and I miss the warmth.

“May I ask why you were out here?” His hesitation to upset me again wars with the curiosity and worry in his gaze.

I can’t help but find that a bit endearing, even though I don’t know how to answer his question. I don’t want to talk about my ability. I go with close to the truth. “I’m a volunteer with the humane society and came out on a ride-along with the humane agents. And I, uh…”

“Thought you’d take matters into your own hands?”

Is he laughing at me? “Uh, yeah, I guess that’s it,” I hedge, and really wish I were a better liar. I’ve never needed to worry about trying to explain that I’m talking to animals to anyone. If someone catches me talking out loud at the shelter, they just assume I’m like all the other animal lovers who talk to animals. I don’t have to say I hear them back.

“Hmm. That seems unwise. Unless you are more badass than you seem.” He sounds so serious saying this that I start laughing.

“You think there’s a possibility I’m a
badass
?” It’s such a funny thought that I, Miss Office Worker, never done anything exciting, could be a badass. Well, I guess I never did anything exciting until tonight.

“That’s an accurate use of that word,” he defends petulantly, and I find that cute. After a pause during which I keep chuckling—partly because I still think his description is funny and partly because I think I’m starting to crack up in the mental health sense—he adds, “I doubt you are a badass. Am I wrong?”

“No,” I manage to get out around the laughing. I suck in some deep breaths, slowly calming the giggles before I start laughing/crying.

“Then what were you doing?”

I really want to tell him, even while part of me just wants to make a run for my car, which we’ve almost reached. The half that wants to run wins out, my humor vanquished in one fell swoop by my rising panic. “It’s complicated.”

“Ah, I see. Something you don’t want to tell me. Can you at least tell me your name?”

“It’s Chloe. Chloe Swenson.” I pull keys from my purse, then turn back to him, the question erupting before I can remember I’m trying to escape. “But why were
you
out there?”

“Like I said, I was concerned for your safety.” He keeps up with me stride for stride as I speed up, and we’re still entirely too close for comfort when I reach my car door.

Or entirely not too close, depending on which part of me you ask. I may have officially had a psychotic break.

“So you make a habit of following women in the dark and saving them from the error of their ways?” I mean to tease, but it comes out a little angry in my general sense of panic.

“No, it’s not a habit.” His voice is more defensive again, and now that we’re in better light, I can see that his green eyes flash a bit. “But you clearly didn’t know what you were getting into, and…and I was concerned.”

“So I guess that makes you the badass then.” I make my tone lighter, shifting my body so he has to look at me and see my smile. In the moonlight, I can see his features soften to a smile of his own. God, he has a really great smile. I should just tell him that.

No. God, no. He’ll think I’m even more nuts than he already does.

“I suppose it does.” His grin is infectious and panic-inducing and hotter than hell.

“Well, thanks then,” I say lamely. He nods and we stare at each other for a while. It’s probably seconds, but in that time my mind is creating all kinds of scenarios featuring this man in my future, some more ladylike than others. I swear there is heat in his eyes as he gazes at me. The panicked half of my mind is still busy plotting my escape—not very well, but still.

Suddenly his eyes widen and he steps back as if stung.
“It’s you.”

“What?” I’m so stunned, I forget being crazy, escaping, wanting to fuck him, everything.

He shakes his head as if to clear it. “I didn’t say anything.”

Oh shit.

I’m so flustered I completely missed the usual pressure I feel when an animal forcefully projects their thoughts to me, and evidently my brain made a connection without thinking through the consequences. I feel myself blushing furiously and snap shut my mind with a bank-vault-size slab and spin the imaginary lock wheel.

Jorge still just looks stunned and lost. “You…you were in my head that day in the shelter. And now again tonight, I felt you there. How…how…?” He shakes his head again.

I rip my eyes away from his accusing, confusing gaze and turn to my car and fumble with my keys. “I should go
.
” Damn these keys. Get in the lock already. Why don’t I have a newer car with keyless entry? “I’m sorry to have caused you concern tonight. No harm, no foul. I’ll just leave now.” I babble until I finally get the car unlocked and go to open the door.

He reaches an arm out and blocks the door. “What are you?” He sounds less shocked now and more curious.

“I don’t know what you—”

“Don’t pretend, Chloe. What are you?”

I turn my gaze to him again. He doesn’t look threatening, just curious. I could melt in those eyes.

I stare at him and realize he isn’t going anywhere. In fact, he’s standing so still I’m not sure he’s even breathing. Now that’s control. I’m pretty sure I’m shaking like a leaf in a tornado. But before I can tell him anything, I have to know. “Did you hear my thoughts?”

He tilts his head and looks even more curious as he answers. “No. I just felt your presence in my mind.”

Phew. OK, I can deal with this. “Well, I heard yours. Tonight you said ‘it’s you,’ and at the shelter you were cursing out the stupidity of people. And it’s probably your own fault for projecting your thoughts so damn loudly.”

He nods, and somehow I feel a little disappointed that he’s not more shocked. “Yes, I was pretty pissed off that day. I came in to report my suspicions about my new neighbors, and I couldn’t stand seeing all those people surrendering their animals because they just don’t want them anymore. As if they were disposable. Unforgivable.” He’s growling again, and this time I rather like it. Gotta love a man who loves animals.

“It is. If I hear one more person pretend they have allergies to assuage their guilt, I’ll scream. I know some people have allergies, I do myself, but so many people are obviously lying.” I stop my rant when his growl becomes a chuckle. The heat of a blush creeps back up my neck and face.

“Seems we have a passion in common then.” The thoroughly unwholesome light in his eyes makes me pretty sure we’re not talking about a passion for a cause anymore. But then the moment passes, and he turns more serious again. “But what about your, uh, gift?”

“Ah, yes. I’m not so much for focusing.” I shoot him a grin, hoping I look adorable.

“Unless you’re on a soapbox.” He is clearly teasing me now, and I could get used to that. If I had to.

“Yes.” I’m not giving him any more material. “I can talk with animals.”

“I see. So that’s what you were doing tonight? Talking to the dogs?”

Again, I wonder at how calmly he is taking all this. Makes me wonder what is wrong with this guy. Besides that he’s not kissing me yet.

“Yes. I need to be within a certain proximity to make it work.” I mentally pat myself on the back for how calm that sounded.

“Oh, then I guess I messed up your plans needlessly.” To his credit, he sounds chagrined again.

“Well, yes. I wasn’t planning to go charging in or anything. It was strictly recon.”

He looks more crestfallen, so I quickly add, “But I was thinking of trying to get closer to the house to better connect, so I guess you did save me after all.” I smile and he returns it. So gorgeous. “But what I don’t understand is how I hear your thoughts. I’ve never heard a human’s thoughts before, and believe me, I’ve tried.”

He visibly withdraws and gets nervous, and now it’s his turn to try to escape, but I don’t understand why.

“Well, I guess I should let you go.” He steps away as if he’ll just disappear into the night. “You’ve been warned about the cameras, so carry on.” He starts to walk faster, but oh no, that is
not
how this is going to work.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I demand, taking a few quick steps so I can grab his arm. “I can see you’ve got a theory as to why I can hear your thoughts. I told you my secret, so spill.”

He turns just enough to look back at me. “No, it’s not a theory…I just, I mean, this is awkward and I’ve detained you enough.” He starts to turn away again, reaching to pull my hand off his arm. His touch is electric, and I know I can’t let him go, no matter what this costs me.

I make my grip on his arm tighter, letting a cloud of anger sweep me away so I don’t have to examine just why it is I can’t let him go even though part of me always runs from anything remotely resembling a relationship.

“Oh, for crying out loud, you realize I can get in your head and you’re putting on a song and dance?” Technically, I can’t get into his head unless he lets me, but still.

He looks back at me with a little fear in his gaze, but his hand just rests on mine now, which is still in a death grip on his arm. I’m really glad he hasn’t moved his hand.

“I mean, not that I’m going to go digging around on purpose. I have ethics. Although maybe since this concerns me, I would be justified.” I’m rambling again, so I cut myself off and finally loosen my grip on his arm. I also soften my voice just a bit. “Listen, I’m not here to have an ethics debate. But, I mean, I feel like you owe me.”

He gives me a measured look and I can tell he’s thinking. Finally, he nods. “OK, but not here. Are you comfortable coming back to my house?”

“Why the hell not?” I hold my keys out to him and force myself to slip my other hand out from under his and away from his arm. It’s harder than it should be. I lift my chin higher, defying him to turn me down. It will drive me crazy if I never find out his theory. “Shall you drive?” I brazen it out, my voice eminently more confident than my insides.

He takes the keys, pausing to give me a thoughtful look and, if I’m not mistaken, lingering overlong as our fingers brush during the transaction. I want to moan but bite my lip to stop myself.

His eyes are filled with heat again, even as they assess me with somewhat wary trepidation. “You don’t have much fear, do you?”

I shrug, walking to the passenger side and getting in, playing my bravado for all it’s worth. “Maybe I’m just blissfully naive.” I’m happy to hear him chuckling again. I’m sure he’ll figure out what I fear soon enough.