fingers to his lips for a long, slow kiss. It was just about the sexiest thing Claire had ever seen, full of sweetness and love and longing. From the expression on Eve’s face, it was just about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, too. “We’ll talk about it on the road,” Michael said. “The passes are good for a week. I’ll make some calls and see when they need me in the studio there.”
Eve nodded. Claire doubted she could put any words together, right at that moment.
“Hey,” Shane said, and tapped Claire on the nose. “Snap out of it.”
“What? What!”
“Seriously. You’ve got this chick flick hit-by-the-romance-hammer look. Stop it.”
“Ass.”
He shrugged. “I’m not one of those romantic guys,” he said. “Hey, date Michael if you want that.”
“No, don’t,” Eve said dreamily. “Mine.”
“And there goes my blood sugar level,” Shane said. “It’s getting late, Claire has school tomorrow, I’ve got a long day of chopping fine barbecue—”
“I think we’ll stay down here,” Michael said. He and Eve still hadn’t blinked or looked away from each other.
“I am really not sticking around for that.” Shane took Claire’s hand in his. “Upstairs?”
She nodded, hitched her bag on her other shoulder, and followed him up. Shane opened the door of his room, turned, and lifted her hand up to his lips. He didn’t quite kiss it. His dark eyes were wicked with laughter.
“Ass,” she said again, more severely. “You couldn’t be romantic if your life depended on it.”
“You know what’s lucky? Most bad guys don’t ask you to be romantic on command, so that probably won’t matter.”
“Only girlfriends do that.”
“Well, they can qualify as supervillains. But only if they have a secret underground base. Wait—you’ve got a mad scientist for a boss, and a lab—”
“Park it,” she said, and smacked his arm. “Are you going to kiss me good night, or what?”
“Romantic on command. See?”
“Fine,” Claire said, and this time she actually did feel a little annoyed. “Then don’t. Good night.”
She pulled away from him and walked away the few steps to her own room, opened the door, slammed it, and flopped on her bed without bothering to turn on the lights. After a few seconds she remembered that in Morganville that was never a smart choice, and switched on the bedside Tiffany lamp. Rich colored light threw patterns on the wood, the walls, her skin.
No monsters were hiding in the shadows. She was too tired to check under the bed or in the closet.
“Ass,” she said again, and put her pillow over her face to scream her frustration into it. “Shane Collins is an ass!”
She stopped at the sound of a soft knock on the door. She put the pillow aside and waited, listening.
The knock came again.
“You’re an ass,” she yelled.
“I know,” came Shane’s voice through the door. “Let me make it up to you?”
“As if you can.”
“Try me.”
She sighed, slid off the bed, and went to open up.
Shane was standing there, of course. He came inside, closed the door behind him, and said, “Sit down.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just sit down.”
She did, perching on the edge of the bed and already frowning. There was something really different in the way he was acting now—the flip side of how he’d been just a few moments ago, teasing and teen-boy.
This seemed much more ... adult.
“When you were in the hospital, after Dan ... well, you know.” He shrugged. “You were kind of drugged up. I’m not sure what you remember.”
She didn’t remember all that much, really. A boy had abducted her and hurt her pretty badly. She’d lost a lot of blood, and they’d given her something for the night-mares. She remembered everybody coming to see her—Mom, Dad, Eve, Michael, Shane. Even Myrnin. Even Amelie and Oliver.
Shane ... he’d stayed with her. He’d said...
She couldn’t really remember what he’d said.
“Anyway,” Shane
Eve nodded. Claire doubted she could put any words together, right at that moment.
“Hey,” Shane said, and tapped Claire on the nose. “Snap out of it.”
“What? What!”
“Seriously. You’ve got this chick flick hit-by-the-romance-hammer look. Stop it.”
“Ass.”
He shrugged. “I’m not one of those romantic guys,” he said. “Hey, date Michael if you want that.”
“No, don’t,” Eve said dreamily. “Mine.”
“And there goes my blood sugar level,” Shane said. “It’s getting late, Claire has school tomorrow, I’ve got a long day of chopping fine barbecue—”
“I think we’ll stay down here,” Michael said. He and Eve still hadn’t blinked or looked away from each other.
“I am really not sticking around for that.” Shane took Claire’s hand in his. “Upstairs?”
She nodded, hitched her bag on her other shoulder, and followed him up. Shane opened the door of his room, turned, and lifted her hand up to his lips. He didn’t quite kiss it. His dark eyes were wicked with laughter.
“Ass,” she said again, more severely. “You couldn’t be romantic if your life depended on it.”
“You know what’s lucky? Most bad guys don’t ask you to be romantic on command, so that probably won’t matter.”
“Only girlfriends do that.”
“Well, they can qualify as supervillains. But only if they have a secret underground base. Wait—you’ve got a mad scientist for a boss, and a lab—”
“Park it,” she said, and smacked his arm. “Are you going to kiss me good night, or what?”
“Romantic on command. See?”
“Fine,” Claire said, and this time she actually did feel a little annoyed. “Then don’t. Good night.”
She pulled away from him and walked away the few steps to her own room, opened the door, slammed it, and flopped on her bed without bothering to turn on the lights. After a few seconds she remembered that in Morganville that was never a smart choice, and switched on the bedside Tiffany lamp. Rich colored light threw patterns on the wood, the walls, her skin.
No monsters were hiding in the shadows. She was too tired to check under the bed or in the closet.
“Ass,” she said again, and put her pillow over her face to scream her frustration into it. “Shane Collins is an ass!”
She stopped at the sound of a soft knock on the door. She put the pillow aside and waited, listening.
The knock came again.
“You’re an ass,” she yelled.
“I know,” came Shane’s voice through the door. “Let me make it up to you?”
“As if you can.”
“Try me.”
She sighed, slid off the bed, and went to open up.
Shane was standing there, of course. He came inside, closed the door behind him, and said, “Sit down.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just sit down.”
She did, perching on the edge of the bed and already frowning. There was something really different in the way he was acting now—the flip side of how he’d been just a few moments ago, teasing and teen-boy.
This seemed much more ... adult.
“When you were in the hospital, after Dan ... well, you know.” He shrugged. “You were kind of drugged up. I’m not sure what you remember.”
She didn’t remember all that much, really. A boy had abducted her and hurt her pretty badly. She’d lost a lot of blood, and they’d given her something for the night-mares. She remembered everybody coming to see her—Mom, Dad, Eve, Michael, Shane. Even Myrnin. Even Amelie and Oliver.
Shane ... he’d stayed with her. He’d said...
She couldn’t really remember what he’d said.
“Anyway,” Shane
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