License to Shift by Kathy Lyons Page B

it.”
    Well, he was clearly pissed about that. Affront to his manhood and all that, which actually made her smile. This whole thing was bizarre, and she had no idea if this was all in his head or not. But either way, he believed it. He’d stayed out here in the rain all night long just to protect her. She had to be grateful for that. Not to mention being filled with all sorts of inappropriate feelings about being cherished.
    But that was crazy talk. It had to be. Mark was the definition of flaky: über-Neanderthal one moment, über-rational the next. It was all part of his here again, gone again pattern, and she wasn’t getting sucked in. But she also couldn’t leave him sitting out here.
    “Come inside, Mark. It’s cold out here.” It might be the height of summer, but early morning after a rainstorm could be downright chilly.
    His gaze traveled out to the woods, clearly worried.
    “What’s the plan, Mark? You going to sit here day and night protecting me? Don’t you think you’ll collapse or something?”
    “You’re leaving today.” He spoke the words in his clipped way, but she thought she heard a plaintive note underneath. As if he didn’t want her to leave, but couldn’t express it normally. Lord, when he was in this state, it was like dissecting the words of a toddler.
    “Come inside,” she said firmly. “I need to call the hospital about my dad. You need to warm up. Why don’t you call Carl?”
    Mark’s eyes widened at her words, then he looked up at the sky. “It’s morning now. Carl will be awake.” He rubbed a hand over his face as he inhaled deeply. “Caffeine’s kicking in.”
    She nodded. “Do you want me to call Carl for you?”
    “No.” He straightened and pulled out his phone. “I’ll text him. You call the hospital.”
    She smiled and held open the front door for him. “There’s more coffee if you want.”
    “I definitely want. Though how your father can drink that swill is beyond me.”
    “He’s a man of plebian tastes.”
    She said the word as a test. Would he understand the word “plebian”? It was a kind of measure of how much brain function he had just then. Apparently not enough because he frowned at her, then looked away, a flush staining his cheeks.
    “Right,” he said, his voice flat. Still in Neanderthal mode.
    She stepped inside, leaving the door open. He was staring hard at his phone, working the buttons slowly, but eventually picking up speed. What was he doing? How sane was he? Was she safe?
    That last was the question that lingered in her thoughts. Given what she’d already seen of Mark, she guessed he was some form of bipolar, which meant that he could go nuts on her at any point. She ought to be grateful he’d gone into protective mode instead of aggressive. Which meant task one would be to get away from him.
    But she didn’t feel threatened. Logic told her that she couldn’t trust that. But it also pointed out that Carl seemed to trust him completely. Wouldn’t he know if she was in danger? Wouldn’t he say something if his friend was off the rails?
    She watched Mark labor over his text message. He was certainly not fast with the thing, but to be fair, neither was she. And he had larger thumbs than she did. Made it harder to text with ease.
    Sighing at the chaos in her own brain, she finished off her mug of coffee and set about filling her stomach. Her father had to have something in here. But what she’d seen last night had been dismally thin.
    She found some bread that hadn’t gone moldy and decided on her favorite breakfast of champions: peanut butter and jelly. She made one for herself, another for Mark. She also found her cell phone and called her sister for the update. Dad was doing fine. They’d find out today if could go home. She chatted while eating, keeping half an eye on the tense man on her front porch. For most of her call, he stood poised on the front step, but just before she hung up, he abruptly spun around and loped around the