Beast Behaving Badly
Page 27
And isnt she kind of cold in that outfit? Wait. Did he make her wear that outfit?
The group fell into an awkward silence, neither Lock nor Ric bothering to attempt even the basic politeness. Shed have to talk to them later about that. How could she teach Novikov to be polite when two of the most polite guys she knew werent acting polite? It was a conundrum!
After the silence went on for way too long, Gwen finally asked the question Blayne was dying to know the answer to.
What is that? Gwen asked from the safety of Locks lap, pointing at the fox.
And, to Novikovs credit, he did appear truly perplexed by her question. Whats what?
Gwen frowned. Around your neck.
He glanced over, shrugged, and replied, This is my fox. Sami.
Hiya, Sami said, looking quite comfortable. She was a cute little thing. An Arctic fox from what Blayne could tell with white hair that reached to her shoulders. But her brown skin and the shape of her eyes suggested she was Eskimo. Wait. Is that the politically correct term? Blayne didnt know, and now she felt guilty. What if it wasnt the correct term? What if calling Sami Eskimo was the same as the old guy in Little Italy last week whod called Blayne that nice colored girl?
So, Novikov went on, oblivious to Blaynes struggle with finding the correct terminology to describe the human side of his fox, what are you guys doing?
Nothing, Lock said, and boy, could he make that one word sound more grudgingly given?
Im sorry, no. Gwen, not nearly done with her side of the conversation, leaned forward a little bit on Locks lap and said, I cant just let this go. What do you mean shes your fox?
I dont know how to make it clearer. At one time, Blayne would have thought Novikov was being rude, but now she knew that was just the way he spoke. That was the way his mind formed things. Directness without any venom attached. It was his way . . . and something shed have to work on with him.
Of course, whether she thought he was being rude or not, Gwen didnt care as she kept digging. Kind of like that hole Blayne dug in her dads backyard a few months back that he still yelled at her about. Well, Gwen pushed, is she your girlfriend?
Gwen, Blayne warned, but Gwen only raised her hand to shut Blayne up.
No, Novikov said simply.
Your lover? Gwen went on. Your fuck-buddy? Any of those terms fit here?
Novikov and the fox eyed each other, then both shook their heads. No.
Then Im unclear what you mean by shes your fox.
Polars have foxes, Lock explained, but Gwen and Blayne stilldidnt get what that was supposed to mean.
What? Gwen demanded.
Why dont we just let this go? Blayne asked, trying to keep everyone calm and sort of rational. But Gwen had already had three Guinnesses on top of her four Sprites at dinner. All that sugar and liquor was making for quite the ONeill volcano.
Let it go? Gwen again pointed at the fox. She comes in here looking like a future Playboy spread, and you want to let it go?
The fox released her grip on Novikovs neck and took the long drop to the ground. She couldnt be more than five-three and maybe a hundred pounds, if that. And the fact that it was the middle of a cold New York City winter didnt seem to faze her either, since she was decked out in the black leather version of a bikini top and shorts. Something Blayne wore in the summer when she and Gwen hit the Jersey Shore, at least the denim version of that outfit, but for winter? Not in this lifetime.
You got a problem, feline? the fox demanded.
Gwen tried to shoot off Locks lap, but the grizzly knew his woman. He tightened his grip on her, holding her with one arm while he continued to drink his beer with his free hand.
Let me go, Gwen ordered. Im going to tear the little twats face off!
Lock chuckled. That is so not going to happen.
Blayne, always hating when anyone fought, jumped off Rics lap and got between the two. They werent close, but theyd locked gazes. And although the fox was tiny, even by human standards, Blayne knew better than to underestimate them. Small, foxes may be . . . but mean. Sometimes, they were really mean.
Okay, Blayne ordered. That is it. She glared at Gwen. This is the opening to our friends club, and you are not going to start a fight. Gwen hissed a little, but she settled back onto Locks lap.
Blayne faced the fox, held out her hand. Hi. Im Blayne. Nice to meet you.
The fox blinked painfully bright gold eyes in surprise. Um . . . hi. She gazed at Blaynes hand and, finally, took it. It was a short shake, but Blayne meant it. Im Sami. Nice to meet you, too.
Would you like to join us for drinks?
Studying Blayne closely, the fox suddenly grinned and shook her head. You know, Im going to check on my mate. But Im sure that Bo would love to stay for drinks. Somehow her smile grew. Its been really nice meeting you, Blayne.
You, too.
The fox sashayed off, patting Novikovs arm as she passed. Gwens eyes narrowed as she watched her, and Blayne said, What part of let it go are we not grasping?
The group fell into an awkward silence, neither Lock nor Ric bothering to attempt even the basic politeness. Shed have to talk to them later about that. How could she teach Novikov to be polite when two of the most polite guys she knew werent acting polite? It was a conundrum!
After the silence went on for way too long, Gwen finally asked the question Blayne was dying to know the answer to.
What is that? Gwen asked from the safety of Locks lap, pointing at the fox.
And, to Novikovs credit, he did appear truly perplexed by her question. Whats what?
Gwen frowned. Around your neck.
He glanced over, shrugged, and replied, This is my fox. Sami.
Hiya, Sami said, looking quite comfortable. She was a cute little thing. An Arctic fox from what Blayne could tell with white hair that reached to her shoulders. But her brown skin and the shape of her eyes suggested she was Eskimo. Wait. Is that the politically correct term? Blayne didnt know, and now she felt guilty. What if it wasnt the correct term? What if calling Sami Eskimo was the same as the old guy in Little Italy last week whod called Blayne that nice colored girl?
So, Novikov went on, oblivious to Blaynes struggle with finding the correct terminology to describe the human side of his fox, what are you guys doing?
Nothing, Lock said, and boy, could he make that one word sound more grudgingly given?
Im sorry, no. Gwen, not nearly done with her side of the conversation, leaned forward a little bit on Locks lap and said, I cant just let this go. What do you mean shes your fox?
I dont know how to make it clearer. At one time, Blayne would have thought Novikov was being rude, but now she knew that was just the way he spoke. That was the way his mind formed things. Directness without any venom attached. It was his way . . . and something shed have to work on with him.
Of course, whether she thought he was being rude or not, Gwen didnt care as she kept digging. Kind of like that hole Blayne dug in her dads backyard a few months back that he still yelled at her about. Well, Gwen pushed, is she your girlfriend?
Gwen, Blayne warned, but Gwen only raised her hand to shut Blayne up.
No, Novikov said simply.
Your lover? Gwen went on. Your fuck-buddy? Any of those terms fit here?
Novikov and the fox eyed each other, then both shook their heads. No.
Then Im unclear what you mean by shes your fox.
Polars have foxes, Lock explained, but Gwen and Blayne stilldidnt get what that was supposed to mean.
What? Gwen demanded.
Why dont we just let this go? Blayne asked, trying to keep everyone calm and sort of rational. But Gwen had already had three Guinnesses on top of her four Sprites at dinner. All that sugar and liquor was making for quite the ONeill volcano.
Let it go? Gwen again pointed at the fox. She comes in here looking like a future Playboy spread, and you want to let it go?
The fox released her grip on Novikovs neck and took the long drop to the ground. She couldnt be more than five-three and maybe a hundred pounds, if that. And the fact that it was the middle of a cold New York City winter didnt seem to faze her either, since she was decked out in the black leather version of a bikini top and shorts. Something Blayne wore in the summer when she and Gwen hit the Jersey Shore, at least the denim version of that outfit, but for winter? Not in this lifetime.
You got a problem, feline? the fox demanded.
Gwen tried to shoot off Locks lap, but the grizzly knew his woman. He tightened his grip on her, holding her with one arm while he continued to drink his beer with his free hand.
Let me go, Gwen ordered. Im going to tear the little twats face off!
Lock chuckled. That is so not going to happen.
Blayne, always hating when anyone fought, jumped off Rics lap and got between the two. They werent close, but theyd locked gazes. And although the fox was tiny, even by human standards, Blayne knew better than to underestimate them. Small, foxes may be . . . but mean. Sometimes, they were really mean.
Okay, Blayne ordered. That is it. She glared at Gwen. This is the opening to our friends club, and you are not going to start a fight. Gwen hissed a little, but she settled back onto Locks lap.
Blayne faced the fox, held out her hand. Hi. Im Blayne. Nice to meet you.
The fox blinked painfully bright gold eyes in surprise. Um . . . hi. She gazed at Blaynes hand and, finally, took it. It was a short shake, but Blayne meant it. Im Sami. Nice to meet you, too.
Would you like to join us for drinks?
Studying Blayne closely, the fox suddenly grinned and shook her head. You know, Im going to check on my mate. But Im sure that Bo would love to stay for drinks. Somehow her smile grew. Its been really nice meeting you, Blayne.
You, too.
The fox sashayed off, patting Novikovs arm as she passed. Gwens eyes narrowed as she watched her, and Blayne said, What part of let it go are we not grasping?
