Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
And maybe a little part of that cardiac a cappella was the male who was with her—
The arched-top door—which had always reminded her of what a hobbit entry might look like—swung wide.
As the older female appeared, Mahrci felt tears flood her eyes. “Crawlyn!”
She skipped ahead, and the instant she felt those familiar arms come around her, she nearly lost it. After everything that had happened, this was the only place she could go. The only person she trusted.
Pulling back, she glanced at Hemmy. Well . . . there was another one now.
“I’d like you to meet . . .”
While she trailed off, Hemmy stepped forward. “Ma’am, it’s a pleasure. My name is Mayhem—but that’s not a descriptor, I promise.”
As he put out his palm and met Crawlyn right in the eyes, Mahrci knew he’d won the older female over. Hell, he’d had her at “ma’am.”
“Well, I am most pleased to meet you.” Crawie wiped her hands on her granny apron and smoothed her graying hair. “I am Miss Mahricelle’s nanny.”
Hemmy’s bow was so courtly, so respectful, Mahrci had to blink her eyes quick. Or maybe that was from the sense that they were both safe out here: She’d done it. She’d gotten free of not just Remis, but her sire.
“Come, come.” Crawie stepped back and motioned into the homey living room. “I prepared the spare guest room for your friend, as you requested.”
Although given the twinkle in her eye, she knew that “friend” was a loose term of art.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said as he squeezed through the door with the two bags.
Walking in the main living area, Mahrci looked around with fresh eyes, and hoped that Hemmy liked the cottage style. She and Crawie had decorated the whole place together over the last year, picking up comfy sofas and chairs, folksy art and rugs, and handmade furniture from some humans who still lived as they had centuries ago.
As Mahrci entered the kitchen, she frowned at the purse and coat that were on the table.
“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “It’s bingo night.”
“It is. I shall be back in about three hours.” Crawie pulled on her red-and-cream wool coat. “I left plenty of food in the refrigerator. Do help yourselves—and, Mayhem, I must say, I’ve heard only good things about you. I look forward to sharing Last Meal and learning more firsthand.”
He bowed at the waist again. “Ma’am, I can’t wait.”
“And you know, it’s nice to have a male in the house—it makes one feel safer, and I shall not apologize for my old-fashioned beliefs.” Crawie gave Mahrci another hug—and this one lingered. “Are you well enough?”
“Yes, mahmen.”
As the older female pulled back, there was a gloss of tears on her eyes, too. Then she put her hand on Mahrci’s cheek. “It’s going to be fine.”
Is it, she wondered. She wasn’t totally sure, although this was an important first step.
On the way to the exit, Crawie paused. “Oh, and I taped all your game shows. I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d had a chance to watch them.”
“Oh, I haven’t! Thank you.”
The older female raised a hand, and then departed. After which . . .
Mahrci looked at Hemmy. “She is everything to me. Everything.”
“I can see that, and it makes me happy. You need someone like her in your life.” He frowned. “But—taping shows? Does anybody do that anymore?”
“Oh, she takes that job very seriously. She has backup VCRs for parts, and a closet full of blank tapes she got off eBay. She doesn’t want to learn any new technology. Says there’s no room in her brain for it—and when you have her chicken pot pie, you won’t want any of her memory replaced with how to work streaming services.”
Hemmy laughed. “Sounds good. And you like game shows?”
“Oh, I do! I love a good puzzle, especially the word-search kinds like Wheel of Fortune. Come on, let me show you to our”—she winked at him—“your room.”
The door to the basement stairs was not far—because nothing was far in the little barn. And at the bottom, there were three bedrooms: a primary suite, which Crawie had always refused to sleep in, and then on the far side of the living area two others that shared a bathroom.
Mahrci hesitated in front of the door to the suite.
Then she looked up at Hemmy.
That was all it took.
No telling who kissed who first. But they squeezed through the narrow doorway together, the duffle bags grabbing on to the jamb until Hemmy dropped them both. The next thing she knew, he was dragging the luggage in with his foot and then bumping the door closed with his hip.
Over to the bed. On the bed. He was on top.
She went for his pants. He went for hers.
And then came The Great Shoewear Debacle.
The entanglements were epic because of their impatience, and they were both laughing as they tried to get each other’s laces undone.