Things That Go Hump In The Night (61 page)

Chapter Five
- The Coffee Date

They were eighth graders. One sat upright, no posture slouch to be seen anywhere. Even her clothes didn’t slouch. She had a librarian aura about her, from her straight auburn hair and striped turtleneck to the pencil thin jeans. Gabby saw an abyss of brown and gold in the girl’s eyes.

Gabby read the roll call. Students recited the standard “here” without fanfare. Then she called the non-slouching girl’s name.

“I’m not here because I was abducted by crazed falcons and taken to Jupiter.”

She moved on to the next person, knowing that this girl would not be her standard middle school student. Moments later, the girl raised her hand to speak.

“Please don’t give us too much work today. We may spontaneously combust.”

Gabby grinned. “Well, I may have to just so that I can see that.”

“It happens, you know.” The girl hadn’t cracked a smile, grin or broken the veneer of her mask face.

“I do know that." It was Gabby who grinned again.

She was tempted to talk about the book she read that summer. The one that showed the police photographs of spontaneous combustion victims. Photos where all you saw was charcoaled flesh, ashes and a pair of shoes or gloves. It seemed that spontaneous combustion victims never burnt all the way up, and always had pieces of appendages left. It was this she thought of later when she watched the girl turn to go, the bell having rung.

The girl fascinated Gabby. This girl who talked of spontaneous combustion without a giggle sat as quiet a stone throughout the class and read her textbook.
Her character would be in the drama club and have wire-rimmed glasses
, Gabby thought. The girl was a living, breathing literary character. She made quick notes so as to commit her to memory. She hoped such a vivid imagination was being encouraged.
This girl should write. She’s an epic herself.
Yet, Gabby realized that her name didn’t stick with her at the end of the hour, and her notes would fail her in producing it.

Half days teaching were the best days. Gabby was out of there in plenty of time to meet up with Landon at the coffee shop. She dressed comfortably but nicely, unsure of the vibe she wanted to send. There was a fine line between putting herself back out there and making herself totally distasteful. She strolled into the shop that smelled of roasted coffee beans and vanilla and took a padded chair in the corner to wait. It wasn’t long before she knew he'd walked in before she even turned around.

His smile greeted her warmly before the words ever came. "Hello Gabby, it's real good to see you." That southern drawl, that bit of heat. Simple words that affected her like no hello should ever affect her.

"Hi there, Landon."

She was caught between the past and the present. Feeling the guilt of being here with someone else other than Tim, and yet hopeful for another meeting, and another, with Landon.

Landon waited a moment while his inner leopard sensed this turmoil and took her hand before saying, "You can honor a memory and still live, Gabby."

It was all she needed to hear, as the tear slowly fell from her eye.

Chapter Six
- Thanksgiving with Friends and a Snow Leopard

By the time November was upon them, Gabby and Landon had progressed from a coffee date to a full-blown romance. They were growing closer every day. Since Landon was nearly a permanent resident of Gabby's home, it seemed only right for the two of them to host Thanksgiving dinner at her place, just has she had year after year. She'd only missed the past two years of hosting. It had been too soon after Tim's passing for her to even consider it.

The day before Thanksgiving, she ordered a pizza for the two of them under the guise of having to cook too much the next day to mess up the kitchen for dinner. Landon didn't mind at all and sat on the floor with her eating straight out of the delivery box while they watched television. From time to time, he'd lean over to wipe a stray strand of cheese from the corner of her mouth, stealing kisses in the interim.

"Are you nervous?" She asked, knowing that all the family would be there dissecting him and his differences from Tim.

"A little. Thankfully Mom and Dad will be there too, so it'll balance out." He smiled at her. "Besides, I've got to get used to your entire crew eventually. I'm in this for the long haul, you know."

She rested her head on his shoulder as he pulled her close. Slow, soft kisses pelted her neck, and soon they were making out like a few of her high school students. Clothes disbanded from their body parts and were tossed with reckless abandon in nearby corners of the room.

His lips dusted her skin, so light it brought goosebumps to her naked flesh. They worked down to the curve of her hips, down her thighs, and back up to her wet folds. He dove in, sucking her clit and tasting her, tongue darting in and out of her. Her hands clenched the fibers of the carpet, pulling them.

She gasped as his tongue worked her, bringing her to the edge of pleasure over and over again. When she finally was so close she couldn't stand it any longer, she flipped him over and threw a leg over him easing herself onto his erectness. Rhythmically she moved on top of him, slowly and then more intense. Grinding her hips into his, rocking back and forth on him for release.

Landon's moans were soft purrs at first rising to a more growl-like hiss. She could see his flesh tense and tighten. It mesmerized her, unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It was so animalistic, so raw, that when her orgasm exploded around him all she could think of was the way his eyes went darker right before he came.

They stayed there for hours, wrapped in each other, tracing small circles in the sweat that had beaded up even in the dead of winter. Finally, when the clock chimed midnight, they made their way toward the bed and fell into a comfortable sleep.

Gabby awoke at 7 a.m. to start the production line parade of food that was expected at Thanksgiving. Somewhere between the green bean casserole and the candied yams, she made them some French toast for breakfast. She turned the fire up high underneath the griddle and listened to the butter pat sizzle. Methodically, she beat the sugar and cinnamon into the eggs that would coat the seven-grain bread. Two quick flips and the toast was done ready for consumption.

“Can I help with anything, honey?” Landon called from the living room.

“No thanks, it’s my day. Thanks, though."

It was her day. She loved any excuse to spend copious amounts of time cooking massive quantities of food. She loved to cook. Probably one of her favorite hobbies. She had put herself on a strict guideline, even to the point of making a bulleted list.

No more than $250 spent grocery shopping.

No more than three of any one type of dessert (3 cakes, 3 pies, etc.)

No foods made that she couldn’t pronounce.

No foods made just because they “look pretty”.

Hours passed, and the housed filled with a cornucopia of flavors. Smells permeated every crevice of the room. Rich butter cream frosting in one breath, lemon crumb cake in another. It was as if a candle company exploded in her kitchen, and all the smells poured out.

The table was set to its breaking point, and dinner began and ended without much fanfare. The families ate, friends dropped by for a quick snack and fellowship, and everyone seemed pleased with the selection. It was the first time that her whole family and Landon's family had spent time together since they started dating.

“Happy Thanksgiving. You really outdid yourself," Landon whispered in her ear as he kissed her.

“Because I love you." It was the first time she'd told him it outright, and she didn't know quite what to expect.

“And I, you.”

They embraced again, deeper this time.

Gabby began the after dinner routine: Dishes cleared and set into the dishwasher; table cleaned and dried back off; settle in for the TLC marathon of her favorite show. She could relax without getting drawn into a show with a real plot. Mindless TV seemed to provide the perfect backdrop for her to keep better focus on her writing. It was like some part of her brain was still trying to comprehend the program while the rest of it was busy with plot and character. It strangely worked to free the words than if there were silence surrounding her. She could get a bit of writing done now that everything was done for the day.

By the time the marathon was over, darkness had fallen outside, and Gabby was sixteen pages further into her novel. Four thousand new little additions to the word count gods. How easily the words came when there were no deadlines. She had progressed to the end of the murders, through the police investigation, to where his dominatrix girlfriend was laying the groundwork to stop his evil ways. It was more delicious than anything she’d ever written, and she knew her editor would hate it. She reminded herself to begin the uppity-socialite-turns-soulful-girl-on-a-farm-for-the-love-of-a-man story that would satisfy the last commitment in a two book contract. 

She glanced lovingly at Landon napping on the recliner. Gabby couldn’t help smiling. He looked transcended to a state of true bliss.  She let him sleep, careful not to disturb the rest he so desperately needed. She knew how hard he worked so that she didn’t have to teach and could write full time. While she loved that about him, she still took on a few assignments a week.

Landon woke every morning at 4:30 a.m. to shower, shave, and dress for a 5:30 a.m. drive to the distribution center where he worked. Gabby would wake long enough to pack him a lunch, tell him to be careful, and send him off with a kiss. That was on the mornings that she woke at all. On average, she would only substitute teach three days a week, but due to the holidays and school breaks she was having even more down time. Landon made enough to pay all the household bills, but she went to work for the little things like credit card payoffs.

After Landon left for work (which would include 12-14 hour shifts), she’d sleep in until 8:00 a.m. or so and then rise to start her methodical routine.

Except this time, Landon roused from his chair. As he wiped the sleep from his eyes, he said, "I didn't mean to fall asleep. There's something I'd like to tell you."

She tried not to appear as worried as the simple statement made her. She wasn't even aware of her wringing her hands until he grabbed them to stop her fidgeting.

"Gabby it's nothing too terrible, I promise, just I overheard a few guests today, and I wanted to come clean about something." He could tell she was still anxious, and he wanted to make this as easy on her as possible.

All she did was sit and nod as if she didn't trust herself to speak.

"Do you remember your cousin talking about dating that wolf shifter? How she trashed the relationship and seemed to blame it on 'his type' and not because she was screwing the delivery guy at work?"

"Yes?" She quickly thumbed through possibilities. He was the delivery driver. He was a cheater. He....

"I'm a shifter, Gabby. I wanted to tell you ages ago but I just never found the right time. It seems that they aren't quite accepted well in your family and, well I was worried you'd cut off the relationship before it even had time to develop."

"You're a... a shifter? What type of shifter?"

"Snow leopard, actually."

"Show me."

"Are you serious? Here? Now?" He was perplexed. He never thought she'd ask that of him.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little. It's bones readjusting and muscles being manipulated into a different frame. The half shifts are much easier."

"What are half shifts?"

He inhaled, and she saw his eyes darken, heard his hands crack and morph into paws with thick, long nails that curved, and his fur start to protrude from where there was once tanned skin. With a quick exhale and shake, it was all over, and he was back to human form.

She stood there by him, rubbing her hands along his hands. She was fixated by the entire process. She sat for hours asking questions, watching him morph and become more and more cat-like until she asked one last mischievous question of him.

"So does this mean I need to watch out for sinking bites to the back of my neck during sex?" She grinned at him.

"Only if you're lucky, Ms. Oakes."