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We angled to my car, and after shoving the rest of the pie into my mouth, I dug my keys out and handed them to him. Marshal's brow rose as he took in the zebra-striped key, but he said nothing. He courteously opened my door, and I slid in, watching him go around to the driver's side. His pie was gone and his mouth was full when he got in with a pained grunt at the tight space, taking a moment to adjust everything to his considerable height. "Nice car," he said when he was settled.
"Thanks. The FIB gave it to me. It belonged to an I.S. agent until Trent Kalamack killed him."
Okay, maybe that was a little blunt, but it would help set the scene for the coming disaster tonight when we would get stuck in traffic and a demon would show up to cause a major incident on the expressway. I hated news vans with a passion.
Marshal hesitated, and the way he looked at the gearshift made me wonder if he knew how to drive it. "Ah, he didn't die in the car, did he?"
"Nope. But I hit him with a sleepy-time charm once and locked him in the trunk."
He laughed at that, the deep, comfortable sound making me feel warm inside. "Good," he said as he put the car into first, jerking us only once as he got us moving. "Ghosts give me the creeps."
Fifteen
The vibration of wheels on varnished wood rumbled up through me, the speed and feel both familiar and exhilarating. Music blared, and the novelty of people skating in costume made the echoing, dingy space seem brand-new. We'd been here for about an hour, going round and round until my mind was numb and my body pleasantly exhausted. Marshal had brushed my hand by accident twice now, and despite his claim that he wasn't looking for anything but casual companionship, my mom's words made me wonder if he was testing the waters.
Together we made the next turn with a comfortable foot-over-foot motion to throw us into a faster pace, and when Marshal's hand bumped into mine again, he took it. I said nothing, but at the slight stiffening in my stance, he let go to pretend to fix the hem of his shirt. Immediately I felt bad, but it really wasn't a date, and I didn't want it to slip into one.
Against the far wall was a huge clock and a sign updated daily stating what time the sun rose. They didn't have a sign saying what time the sun would set, though. My tongue felt the bump on my i
Marshal followed my gaze to the clock before his attention dropped to my hand at my side. "You want to go?"
I shook my head as I fixed my red scarf, then felt guilty I was hiding my vamp bites. I'd never felt shame for them before, but I think it was because I understood for the first time how risky it had been to get them and I was embarrassed to have been that stupid. "No. We've got time yet." Being careful not to touch him, I leaned closer so he could hear me over the music as we passed the speakers. "I need to stop on the way home to pick up some tomatoes and another bag or two of candy. I ran out last year, and when I turned the light off, someone tied condoms to my car's ante
Marshal's full laugh made me wonder how many he'd tied in his day. There was a distinct glint of devilry in his eyes. "Hey," he said. "Hold on. Let me see if I can still do this." And in a sharp movement of flailing arms, he was skating backward. A turn was coming, and I took his hands to steady him when he bobbled. I let go almost immediately, but just that slight touch had eased the tightness in his jaw.
Now I really felt bad about stiffening when he'd taken my hand earlier, and not wanting him to think I thought he was ugly or anything, I skated closer toward him. I had an idea, and I started to sweat. God, I hadn't done this in years, but if Marshal wasn't afraid to fall and get an I BROKE MY ASS AT ASTON'S button, then I wasn't either.
Smiling to hide my nervousness, I leaned forward to be heard over the speakers as we passed them. "Turn around!" I shouted.
"What?"
I gri
We were past the speakers, and his eyes were wide as he said, "Okay," and spun.
His back was to me, and I took a moment to look at it, so wide and broad. Dang, he was tall. My mom had been right. It felt good to get out and do something. If I didn't remind myself of what my life should be, I was going to collapse into a puddle of hopelessness. Balance. It was all about balance.
Pushing my thoughts away, I gingerly put my hands on his shoulders as we took the turn at the outer edge. "Pull me through?" I said as I leaned in so he could hear me over the music. "You're tall enough."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, darting a quick look over his shoulder. "Sure. We've got some straight board coming up."
We were at the speakers, and the music beat into me along with the rumble of the boards. I should come out here more often, I thought. Yes, the crowd was mostly human and the music was lame, but it was relaxing. Safe.
Marshal bent at the waist, and when his hands appeared between his knees, I sank to my heels and grabbed them. "Oh, crap!" I exclaimed when I realized too late he had crossed his wrists, and when he pulled me through, he spun me.
"Oh-h-h-h-h no-o-o-o-o!" I gasped, adrenaline pulsing as the world revolved. I scrambled for balance as I ended up facing him. My eyes were wide, and I caught a glimpse of Marshal laughing before he pulled me to him so I wouldn't go down. My wheels aligned, and breathless, I froze, my arms crunched between me and him as I skated backward. I took a breath, then looked up at him. He was holding me. "I, uh, wasn't expecting that."
"Sorry," he said softly, gazing at me.
"Liar," I said as the walls raced by. I was in his arms, skating backward, going full tilt. It was kind of how I lived my life. "You, ah, can let go now," I said, but I wasn't moving away, a small, wounded part of me just about dying to stay where I could soak up his warmth and acceptance.
His smile went soft at my awkward conflict, and when his grip loosened, I carefully turned to face forward and slip out of his arms. I probably shouldn't have done a pull-through, but I hadn't known he was going to turn it into…that. Crap on toast, I should have left everything as it was.
"Hey," I said nervously, hoping he wouldn't assume I wanted to change our relationship. Not that we really had one. "You're not bad at this. I practically lived here when I wasn't in school. How did you get so good?"
Marshal glanced at the torn stickers on my skates featuring popular bands from the nineties. His brown eyes were crinkled in laughter, and I hoped his eyebrows would grow in soon. "There's not much to do when the tourists leave. You should see what else I'm good at."
I smiled when I imagined what one had to do to keep occupied when snowed in. Leave him alone, Rachel. He's not looking, and neither are you.
"So now that you've got the job, you're going to move down here?" I asked.
"Mm-hmm." He was smiling, too, when he looked up from the boards. "I've got a guy who's been looking to buy the business, so it's only a matter of finding a price we both like."
I bobbed my head. "What about your house?"
Marshal shrugged. "I rent. Next trip up there, I'll bring everything back. Providing it's not out on the front lawn or burned."
Remembering what my mom had said about him coming off a psycho girlfriend, I winced. "Sorry. Debbie?" I guessed, remembering her.