clothed for school—hair wet and tousled.
“I was just chatting. I never get to talk to Mari anymore.” Samara shifted from one foot to the other and gave a small smile.
“Well, she lives here now, so you can talk to her more. Just don’t do it in my room. I don’t want anybody in my room anymore other than Mari.” Adam stepped away from the door and stood still, watching Samara like he was waiting for her to leave immediately.
Samara squared her shoulders, gave half a wave to Mari and left.
Once she was gone, he asked, “What did she say?”
“Not much. She still doesn’t like me,” Mari said.
“Some people are blind, and they miss out on great people like you. I’ll never do that.” He smiled and sat on the bed next to her. She tucked into his side automatically.
“I guess one of three people in your family being okay with me is decent odds.” She nuzzled her head into his bicep. He smelled unearthly—oak, light musk, and something so Adam that was completely edible.
Her mouth watered.
“Two of four,” he corrected her. “And I think Dad’s on your side now, so it’s probably three out of four.”
She waited for him to tell her more statistics, but he stroked her hair and kept quiet.
This reflective, tender Adam was her favorite. She felt safer than ever when he was like this.
She wrapped her arms around his ribs and hugged him tight.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He sighed.
“She wants me to leave, but I won’t.”
“Good, because I’d cry and chase after you.” He made a happy humming sound.
“Okay.” She sniffed back the tears as her heart swelled with so many feelings for him. “Breakfast?”
“Shower first, I think,” he said.
“Not happening. I want to smell like you all day.” She placed a peck on his chest, rolled over him and out of the bed, then waited for him to join her so they could walk downstairs and eat something.
He intuitively kept his arm around her all morning.
And she needed it.
* * *
Halloween was next week. Mari wanted to dress as a weeping angel. Adam wanted to know what that was, so without telling her, he went to retrieve her DVDs of Torchwood and Doctor Who from her mom’s place.
He couldn’t wait to surprise Mari with them.
Rap, rap, rap, rap . . .
He hovered in the doorway, hoping to shake Michelle’s hand right away to prove he was there for friendly reasons.
The door opened, and he grabbed her hand right away. “Ma’am, I am here for cordial reasons, nothing negative.” He shook it heartily.
Mari’s mom groaned and grimaced when he called her ma’am. “Is this a joke? Did Mari send you here to mock me?”
“No, Michelle. She’d never do that.”
“Oh, yeah? She’s a regular saint now, huh? And did she tell you to call me by my first name, because ma’am is ruder than hell? Makes me sound like I’m ninety years old.”
“All she did was tell me your name. I was trying both on to find out what you liked. You made a face at the first one, so I figured your first name would get a better reaction, and it did.” He smiled.
She did not smile. Her nostrils flared, though. That was kind of interesting. “She did set you up to do this, didn’t she? It’s because she hates me and never wants to see me again.”
He let go of her hand and took a step back. His tongue felt twisted. “Uh . . . No, she doesn’t talk about you at all. But I think once she’s done with her time-out with you.” He shook his head. That sounded wrong. “I mean, when she’s had some time to feel better about you, she’ll probably want to see you again. Like maybe at the wedding?” His voice lifted at the end of his sentence.
Why was he here again, facing her? He’d never talked to her mom one-on-one before, and she was kind of scary with the way she looked at him like she wanted to destroy him.
Get the DVDs! Do it now before you say something wrong and make her mad!
“Uh, sorry, but I . . . Uh, ma’am—uh,
Learning to Kill: Stories