Cold Feet (Empathy in the PPNW Book 3) Read online

  Finally, when a completely hairless little boy sat up in place of the bald puppy, Mel leaned down to shove a giant, purple shirt over his head. The boy struggled to push his arms through the holes and Mel helped him to his feet. When they approached me, Mel tapped the top of his bald head. The boy looked up at him and grinned but said nothing.

  It took a bit more maneuvering but soon four boys, one girl and a black puppy stood more or less lined up in front of me. Mel stayed slightly behind the kids, a wide, goofy grin covering his mouth. Sarah gestured to each kid (and puppy) as she spoke.

  “Jeremy, Lorelai, Oliver, Christian, Walter, and Clara,” Sarah explained, stepping forward to rub a hand over Christian’s bald head. He squinted slightly and I saw the hair on his arms darken and get longer. Lorelai stifled a laugh when she noticed but Walter frowned at his brother and I felt some another emotion bubble like tonic water.

  I stood in a room surrounded by werewolves and wondered silently why I hadn’t cracked up or fallen to the floor mumbling nonsense. Mel’s emotions were dammed in by the necklace, but even Sarah and Julian were tolerable. I had only met two werewolves up until this point, but both had possessed an emotional pattern akin to being tied down on a bed of hot coals and poked with pitchforks. This was definitely different and I was going to have to figure out why. Maybe something had happened to me while I’d slept and I no longer had to worry about werewolf emotions that I had before.

  I wasn’t jumping at the change to have Mel pull of the necklace to see for sure, but I remained cautiously optimistic.

  I realized then that everyone was staring at me expectantly. I was being rude and stupid and I instantly felt bad. I smiled, though it was forced, and crouched down to look the kids in their adorable, little faces. The puppy next to me, Clara, took a half-step forward before freezing and looking to her mother. Sarah just watched us with a smile.

  “Hi guys, I’m Gwen. I’ll be staying here for a little while. I guess.” Looking around at the kids, I bit my lip, unsure how to interact with baby werewolves. Deciding it was probably quite a bit like dealing with my nieces and nephew, I figured I’d let them feel important. “Can anyone show me to my room?”

  “I can!” Lorelai of the hard-fought purple dress announced, reaching out to grab my hand. She gave a tug and turned, shoving aside her brothers. They let her assault them without incident (though Christian couldn’t quite catch himself and toppled) and I got to my feet, following her lead. Apparently Lorelai had signaled the end of polite time; Walter tackled Clara to the ground and bit her ear, the hair on his arms going dark. I was able to keep my eyes on him long enough to see him struggle to pull his baggy shirt off while still holding Clara on the ground, before I was yanked around the corner.

  Sarah followed us, not bothering to look back when a bark and a laugh screeched our way from the living room.

  We passed a large kitchen and dining room on the left, a doorway and staircase leading downward on the right, and finally came to a pair of bedrooms. Little Lorelai dragged me all the way into the room, stopping only when we were near my bag, which Sarah had set on the bed. Staring up at me as if expecting a tip, Lorelai stood close, dark eyes intense. Her face was round, her hair messy and stopping just above her shoulders. One eyebrow was slightly thicker than the other, but her arms were completely hairless. She didn’t seem to mind my inspection of her and I wondered if it was a werewolf thing or just the fact that she looked about five years old and was too young to notice.

  “Um. Thanks,” I said, finally. She nodded, looked past me to her mother.

  “Momma?” she asked. I didn’t hear Sarah say anything but by the time I turned to face her, Lorelai had taken off through the bedroom door.

  “This is…” I paused, unsure what I could say that wouldn’t be confusing or insulting. Sarah laughed, gave a small nod.

  “Don’t worry about it. Mel said you guys have to get going pretty soon, but I’ll leave you be until you do.”

  “You don’t have—”

  “I should, anyway. Julian’s definitely the good cop.”

  With a wink, she grabbed the door, yanked it shut and left.

  Chapter Four

  I didn’t think I’d fallen asleep but I felt the bed sag next to me and the surprise jerked me upright with a cry. Disoriented, I whipped my head around, scanning a room I didn’t recognize, until I spotted Mel. Despite my usual reaction of irritation at the sight of him, I felt instantly comforted finding someone I recognized. When my brain caught up and realized he was giving me a pompous smile, I let out a wordless grumble. He ignored my disapproval of his general state of being and nudged me gently with his elbow.

  “You think we should consummate this fake marriage before we head out?”

  I decided I could probably blame the relief on being stupid from sleep and not on actually liking him as a person or anything. Surely there was no legitimate reason for me to not be disgusted and outraged at finding myself alone in a bedroom with Mel.

  “There are six children out there,” I protested, shaking my head wearily.

  “They won’t hear us. They don’t get the super senses—” he gestured vaguely to his own ear, “—until puberty. Right now they’re just occasionally puppy-shaped.”

  “It’s not—the answer is no. Regardless of children, the answer is always no.”

  “Well then, we should go.” Getting to his feet, Mel twisted to hold a hand out to me, catching my eye as he did. The smug smile was back, though I wasn’t sure why. He always looked so full of himself, even after having just been rebuked. Then again, maybe my refusal to submit to his charms had become so routine that he barely noticed anymore. It was as normal as both of us needing to breathe or eat. It was our thing, like our version of friendship bracelets. His charm said, “Sex?” and mine, “NO!”

  I chuckled at the mental image I’d given myself of Mel decked out in bedazzled children’s charms and dropped my head forward, stretching my neck. My body was still not ready to get up, to leave the cozy mattress and the homey house and let Mel take it somewhere that might have been dangerous.

  Duty calls, however, and this time it had left a message promising sugar, so I put my hand in his and let him pull me to his feet. Surprisingly, he didn’t yank me close and try to cop a feel. He just tugged me upward, let my hand go, and turned to look around the room.

  “Do you need anything else before we leave?” he asked.

  “Is there something I can take that makes you less annoying?”

  “There is, but it’s my penis.”

  “Then no.”

  Mel, forever undeterred by my disgust, just made his way toward the front room of the massive house. I followed, trying my best to prepare myself for the onslaught of emotions. Eight people is a lot for me when those people are pure people. These people were all partly wolf, which made being around them hit me at least twice as intense. It reminded me of feeling my cell phone buzz in my hand, only it was all over and non-stop.

  As we got to the living area, where half the kids were puppy-shaped and the rest were naked, I found myself reaching to rub at my scalp. My skin felt like I’d rubbed it against a dozen helium-filled balloons and I’d almost convinced myself my hair was standing on end.

  We made it to the car without being noticed by the kids and, once I was buckled safely inside, I dug into my bag, looking for my phone. After a few minutes, as I realized I’d gotten distracted from my original purpose by social media and pictures of babies, I frowned, peering out the front window as if I could see the internet in waves across the sky.

  “I can’t believe I get signal out here.”

  “You won’t, once we get to the Tough Love center.”

  “Is that the name of it?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “It sounds ridiculous.”

  “Hey, I didn’t name it.”

  “No, but I bet you’ve named your penis,” I groused, remembering instantly what I had been meaning to do. Sending off a text th
reatening Chloe with bodily harm, I continued under my breath. “Something stupid, too.”

  “I have, but it’s not stupid, and I can properly introduce you two if you’d like.”

  “I would not like, even a little.”

  Still taking the path of no resistance to my dislike, Mel sped up, cornering the turns even faster than he had on the way up to the house. I clenched my whole body, leaning toward the center console as if that alone would save me if Mel got us into some bone-crunching, flesh-rending wreck. I needed a distraction or I was gonna crack my jaw grinding my teeth.

  “So, what exactly did you tell them our marriage troubles are?” I asked, trying not to notice the trees around us blurring into one green and brown mess.

  “I played the man, claiming I wasn’t sure why you’d wanted me to call them, but that you’d heard from a friend they did good work.”

  “You played the man?” I asked, turning to him. My phone buzzed and I glanced at it; Chloe had just sent a mocking emoticon sticking its tongue out at me.

  “Yeah, you know, I said you’d been nagging me, harping about how you were unhappy, that I didn’t see any damn problem, but I’ve gotta keep the old ball and chain happy. That sort of thing.”

  “That’s not playing the ‘man’ that’s playing the ‘asshole.’ Which you do quite well, most days.”

  “Hey, who made you pizza and let you sober up on his couch?”

  “Who then knocked me out by not being smart enough to keep his necklace on?”

  “I thought we’d established you passed out because you couldn’t handle my hot body.”

  “I could handle it, I just really, really don’t want to.”

  “Liar,” Mel spat.

  Deciding a change of subject was in order I got back to business. “What do I need to know for this whole sham?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well. We’re pretending to be married, right? How long have we been together? How did we meet? Do we have any humiliating nicknames for each other?”

  “I’ll call you Sugar Tits.”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  “Sweet Ass?”

  “No! Look—”

  “Honey Legs?”

  “Stop! We need to be serious here!”

  “What about—”

  “I swear to god if you don’t stop, I will only refer to you as Floppy Dick for the rest of this stupid job.”

  “Floppy Dick has a job for you.”

  I took a deep breath, aiming to calm myself away from the homicidal urges bubbling up inside me. His joke barely even made sense but that didn’t stop me from being irritated. His casual disinterest in talking about our relationship, be it fake or not, made me consider how awful it would be were we actually shackled together in holy matrimony.

  “Will you please be serious? This is your thing, not mine. I should not be taking it more seriously than you are.”

  “I’m taking it plenty seriously. I’m just not worried about the small details.”

  “Small details? Is that what you think of our marriage, Somerset?”

  “Why do you think we’re going to a marriage counselor?”

  I fought the urge to grab the steering wheel and careen us into a tree. It would be better than having this conversation. Several minutes passed as I considered my horrible life choices and my desperate stupidity where chocolate was concerned. Damn those delicious cupcakes and the asinine things they made me agree to. Mel broke the silence casually, as if our previous spat hadn’t happened.

  “So, what do you think our problems should be?” Mel asked, tapping his finger on the wheel as if to a song only he could hear. “We’re going to need some in order to get in there for more than a consultation.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I demanded. “Now you want to come up with a plan?”

  Mel chuckled and I got the feeling he’d been deliberately obtuse just to aggravate me. I realized I couldn’t really tell his motivation without the aid of his emotions. Painful as they were, I’d apparently relied on them without realizing it in the past. Suddenly frustrated by my impotence, I decided I wanted to hit him.

  Instead, I carefully considered my options and made a very sensible suggestion. “We can say you’re bad in bed.”

  “They’d never believe it. We’ll say you’re bad in bed.”

  “They’d believe it. I know I believe it.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just look at me. I’m amazing. Everyone can see it.”

  “That’s our problem, then: you’re completely disconnected from reality.”

  Mel threw his head back and laughed and I wondered if he found me clever or if the thought of him being bad at sex was so ridiculous he found it hilarious. We rode in silence for another few minutes before I noticed a giant blue sign coming up fast on the right. The words ‘Tough Love’ were spelled out in curvy letters next to a dove holding an olive branch in its beak.

  We took the drive through a pathway of well-groomed trees onto a wide roundabout in front of a giant house. The building was massive, painted a pale yellow and decorated with cutesy items like wooden cows and wire chickens.

  The style looked like country chic had gotten drunk and thrown up all over some perfectly respectable luxury home. I already didn’t trust the place, thanks to why we were there in the first place, but the décor compounded my suspicion. I could see other, more modern buildings decorating the landscape behind it, like guesthouses that had been built more recently.

  “This is it?” I asked as Mel came around the car to stand next to me. I was gawking still, wondering if they’d hired a decorator for this mess or just let someone’s great aunt Ida go ballistic with an outlandish flea market budget.

  “Yep. Here.” As I stared at a metal frog tacked to the open front door, I felt Mel grab my left hand. Turning just in time to see him slip a gold wedding band over my ring finger, I jerked as if I could pull my hand back and rewind time to where that hadn’t just happened. Mel held fast, making me think I should be more careful about such actions in the future lest I accidentally pull my own arm out of its socket.

  “What the hell?”

  “We’re married, remember?” he smiled sweetly and brought my hand to his lips. “Honey-butt.”

  I snarled at him, but he was already leaving me behind to stride confidently up the front walk. I hustled to catch up, rubbing at the ring uncomfortably. It had been a long time since I’d worn a wedding ring and just the feel of the metal on that particular finger sent jitters through my nervous system.

  “So where did we land on this whole fake marriage thing?” I asked quietly as we moved up the walk. “Do I have amnesia and that’s why we can’t answer any of their questions? Oh! Are we going soap opera? Can I pretend to be my own transsexual twin brother and you’re forcing me into this outdated and unfair gender role and so I hate you but also I might be pregnant with—”

  “If they ask anything you can’t answer,” Mel interrupted. “Just scowl angrily and let me handle it.” Mel looked down at me, pointed to my sour expression. “Yes! Just like that.”

  I did my best to blank my face as we stepped into the building, despite the fact that I was still boiling inside with frustration. Who knows where I could have taken that soap opera thing? I could have had the next All My Children come tumbling out of my mouth and now we’d never know thanks to Mel’s refusal to play along.

  He was acting outwardly as if he was perfectly fine but something was off. At least, I thought something was off. I had to admit to myself that I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what was going through his head without his emotions to back it up. The only other time we’d spent awhile together with the necklace between us there had been wine and pizza to distract me.

  This time, he had managed to get me to agree to spend a week with a house full of werewolves. This time I had to pretend to be his wife, a role I hadn’t been any good at even when I’d liked the person in the role of husband. This time, the
re didn’t seem to be any pizza at all, dammit.

  In that instant, I remembered I wasn’t terribly happy with him or the situation and it wasn’t just because I’d lost my one shot at producing a cheesy daytime TV show. Luckily for both of us, I was supposed to be unhappy with him. It would help make our fake marital troubles more convincing to the outside world. I could be snotty and insulting and no one would think twice about it. So, I decided to go with that feeling.

  To Tough Love’s credit, their center was much less kitschy inside. The walls were a tamer yellow and I only spotted two cow decorations on the walls; the mooing clock was actually pretty cute, I had to admit.

  It was clear the place had been a house once upon a time. We stood in an open floor plan, with a freestanding reception desk to our left and a few couples milling about here and there. A woman with short red hair cut similar to mine stepped up to us, a warm smile on her face. She held out a hand to me and then to Mel after we shook.

  “Welcome to Tough Love, do you have a consultation or have you come to learn about how we can help?”

  “Appointment, Mel Somerset and Gwen Arthur,” Mel answered, shifting into the skin of a man who wanted to appear polite but couldn’t quite master it. He wouldn’t meet the lady’s eyes, and kept a faint snarl of annoyance on his face as he scanned the room. The receptionist wasn’t bothered.

  “Yes, I see your names right here.” She pointed to the tablet computer she held, but didn’t show us. “Would you like some refreshment? Tea? Lemonade? We have coffee, too, if the heat doesn’t bother you.”

  “I’ll take some lemonade,” I said, hoping it was sixty-percent sugar water and not some tart, fresh-squeezed junk.

  “Of course, have a seat right over there and I’ll call you when Dr. Coontz is ready for you. We’ll have fresh juice for you in the room, how’s that?”

  I nodded politely, even though I wanted to spit, “Damn.”