Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body by Michele Bardsley Page A

grit-covered boards on which I sat. Gran swept the porch every evening, but it was difficult to keep it clean. “You better go wash your hands.”
    “I’m not leaving you on the floor.” He squatted next to me. I was grateful he didn’t try to touch me. He sounded soothing now, his manner gentled. “I’m sorry you fell. I’m sorry I . . . overreacted.”
    “I said it’s fine.”
    “Simone,” he said softly. “Forgive me.”
    I finally glanced at him and saw how he was looking at me. Sincerely. With concern. He seemed to know that I didn’t want him to get too close. Would I ever trust again? How much time would pass before I could forget what happened to me? To my family?
    “Only if you’ll forgive me,” I said. “I shouldn’t have done that. Rick didn’t show up, and you stir my appetites. All of them.”
    I don’t know why I confessed that to him. For some reason, it caused relief (yep, there was desire there, as well) to glimmer in his gaze.
    His lips hitched into a grin. “Don’t get me wrong,” he answered. “I liked it.” He shook his head. “My blood is . . . infected.”
    Come to think of it, Brady tasted a little metallic, like I’d licked a pipe. Yet his blood was also more delicious than Rick’s, rich like devil’s food cake slathered with chocolate icing (metal shavings on top).
    “Infected?” I worried my lower lip. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine. It’s not how you think. It’s complicated.” He studied my face. “May I help you up now?”
    He offered his unbloodied hand, and even though I didn’t really need his help, I accepted the gesture. We stood, and I let go of his hand and stepped back. He seemed to recognize I wanted distance, and he didn’t try to crowd me.
    “Simone?” called Gran. “Guests are arriving, child.”
    “Be right there!” I called back.
    “You . . . uh, have some blood on your mouth,” Brady said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his front jeans pocket. I took it and dabbed my lips.
    “Keep it,” he said when I tried to hand it back. “I have a lot of those.”
    I studied the white cloth and saw the initials BH stitched in the corner. “It’s kinda old-fashioned.”
    “My mama raised me right.” He was trying to lighten the mood, and I appreciated it.
    “We better go in,” I said. Brady extended his arm in an after-you gesture. I turned around and went inside the kitchen.
    I was still hungry. I hoped Rick had arrived because I really needed my pint. I didn’t want to make another mistake. And I never wanted to hurt Brady again.
    The party had been in full swing for more than an hour. Rick never showed up and he wasn’t answering his cell phone. Even though I gorged on pot roast, green bean casserole, corn on the cob, and sweet potato pie, hunger gnawed at me until all I could think about was sucking on a juicy artery.
    After returning to the house, I’d separated from Brady and had managed to mingle with my friends while avoiding him (and trying to make it seem like I wasn’t).
    Nearly everyone had shown up, including Patsy and Gabriel. I’d never seen people enjoy food the way the vampires were, and since we weren’t required to digest, there was no limit on what we could shove down our gullets.
    Tables and chairs had been set up outside. Someone, one of the lycans, maybe, brought a grill. The scent of cooking meat seemed to entice everyone, and every so often a groan of appreciation would roll through the crowd.
    The best thing about the whole event was that Glory was playing with the other kids. Firefly tag had ensued, and my baby girl ran and jumped and squealed. It didn’t seem to matter to the kids that she didn’t talk. And to see Glory being social and liking it brought me a heart full of joy.
    “She’s doing well,” said Eva.
    I turned and found Broken Heart’s schoolteacher standing beside me. In her hand was a plate filled with three slices of pie and one slab of cheesecake. She saw me notice her dessert