Bone Crossed (Mercy Thompson #4)(25)

"Shee-it," exclaimed Warren. "Shee-it."

"DID YOU CALL BRAN?" I ASKED ADAM THE NEXT EVENING, tugging down the short skirt of my favorite green-blue dress until it was as good a barrier between Adam's SUV's leather seats and my naked skin as it was going to be.

He hadn't told me where we were going on our date, but Jesse had called me as soon as he left and described what he was wearing - so I knew I'd need the big guns. Though we share a back fence, the distance by car is significantly longer, and I'd had time to skim into the correct dress before he pulled up at my door.

Adam does suits. He wears suits to work, to pack meetings, to political meetings. Since his hours are about the same as mine, that means six days a week. Still there was a difference between his usual work suits and the one he was wearing tonight. The first were made to announce that this was the man in charge. This one said, "And he's sexy, too." And he was.

"There's no need to call Bran," he told me irritably as he swung the big vehicle onto the highway. "Half the pack probably called Bran as soon as they got home. He'll call me when he's ready."

He was probably right. I hadn't asked, but his grim face when Warren and I emerged from the basement last night - after everyone had left except for Samuel - had told its own story.

Samuel had kissed me on the lips to irritate Adam and ruffled my hair, "There you are, Little Wolf. Still naturally talented at causing trouble, I see."

That was unfair. It had been Stefan and Adam who'd caused this. I informed Samuel of that, but only after he'd escorted me back home.

Adam called me once, earlier in the afternoon, to make sure I remembered he was taking me out. I'd promptly called Jesse with orders to let me know what her father was wearing. I owed her five bucks, but it was worth it to see Adam smiling when I hopped into his SUV.

But my mouth had soon taken care of that. His Explorer still had a heck of a dent on the fender from where one of the wolves had hit it - after being thrown by an angry fae. My fault. So I'd asked him if he had an estimate yet, and he'd growled at me. Then I'd asked about Bran.

So far our date was working out just spiffy.

I went back to playing with my skirt.

"Mercy," Adam said, his voice even more growly than it had been.

"What?" If I snapped at him, it was his own fault for getting grumpy at me first.

"If you don't stop playing with that dress, I'm going to rip it right off you, and we won't be heading for dinner."

I looked at him. He was watching the road, and both hands were on the wheel... but once I paid attention, I could see what I'd done to him. Me. With remnants of grease under my fingernails and stitches in my chin.

Maybe I hadn't screwed up the date as badly as all of that. I smoothed the skirt back down, successfully resisting the urge to pull it up farther only because I wasn't sure I could handle what might happen. I thought Adam was joking, but... I turned my head toward my side window and tried to keep the grin off my face.

He drove us to a restaurant that had just opened in the boom-town that was forming in West Pasco. Just a couple of years ago it had been barren desert, but now there were restaurants, a theater, a Lowe's and... a hugeyenormous (Jesse's word) giant-sized Wal-Mart.

"I hope you like Thai." He parked us out in the middle of west nowhere in the parking lot. Paranoia has odd manifestations. It gave me panic attacks and made him park where he could manage a quick getaway. Shared paranoia - could a happily-ever-after be far off for us?

I hopped out of the front seat and said in suitably resolute tones, "I'm sure they have hamburgers."

I shut the door on his appalled face. The locks clicked, and there he was, one arm on either side of me... grinning.

"You like Thai," he said. "Admit it."

I folded my arms and ignored the gibbering idiot who kept shrieking "he's got me trapped, trapped" in the back of my head. It helped that Adam up close is even better than half a car away. And Adam with a grin... well. He has a dimple, just one. That's all he needs.

"Jesse told you, didn't she?" I said grumpily. "Next time I see her, I'm going to expose her for the secret-sharing kid she is. See if I don't."

He laughed... and dropped his arms and backed away, proving he'd seen my erstwhile panic. I grabbed his arm to prove I wasn't scared and towed him around the Explorer toward the restaurant.

The food was excellent. As I pointed out to Adam, they did have hamburgers. Neither of us ordered them, though doubtless they would have been good, too. I could have been eating seaweed and dust, though, and I still would have enjoyed it.

We talked about cars - and how I thought his Explorer was a pile of junk and he thought I was stuck in the seventies in my preference for cars. I pointed out that my Rabbit was a respectable eighties model, as was my Vanagon - and the chances of his SUV being around in thirty years was nil. Especially if his wolves kept getting thrown at it.

We talked about movies and books. He liked biographies, of all things. The only biography I'd ever liked was Carry On, Mr. Bowditch, which I'd read in seventh grade. He didn't read fiction.

We got in an argument about Yeats. Not about his poetry, but about his obsession with the occult. Adam thought it was ridiculous... I thought it was funny that a werewolf would think it so and baited him until he caught me at it.