White Trash Zombie Apocalypse

Page 52

“Oh, right. Of course,” I said, wrinkling my nose at my obtuseness. I tilted my head and regarded him. “Y’know, this is gonna sound weird, but if anyone had to make you a zombie, I’m glad it was me.”
His smile widened. “I’m glad it was you too. You rock.” Then he bent and picked up a largish flat rectangular box that had been leaning against the wall. “Here, I have something for you.”
“Oh?” I said, raising an eyebrow as I took the box from him. “I kinda like presents.” I opened the box, then grinned as I pulled out a brand new jacket in the exact size and style of the one I’d worn to the Gourmet Gala. “No, you rock!”
His eyes crinkled in a smile. “Had to cut the other one to make sure Bell didn’t break your skin when he bit you. No idea what effect his truly screwed up parasite could have on a normal one.” He shrugged. “Maybe nothing, but if he’d drawn blood I’d have found a way to get word to Dr. Nikas, just in case.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You didn’t have to get me a new one.” Then I grinned. “But I also won’t let you take it back now.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “A scuffle on the front porch could be entertainment for your party.”
“It would give the neighbors something to call the cops on us for,” I said with amusement. “They don’t know what to make of the new, outwardly-respectable Crawfords.”
Philip lifted a hand to my cheek and looked into my eyes, smiled gently as he leaned down. For an instant I was absolutely positive that he intended to kiss me—and almost absolutely positive that I wouldn’t do a damn thing to stop him.
But he simply laid a gentle kiss on my forehead and straightened, though his hand lingered on my cheek.
“I don’t know about them,” he said, voice soft, “but I’m pretty impressed by the inward respectability of Ms. Angel Crawford.”
My heart thudded erratically as I struggled to come up with something to say in response to all of that. “Um. Thanks,” I managed.
Smiling still, he withdrew his hand. “Come on, Zombie-Mama,” he said. “You have a house to warm, and I have beer to look at longingly.”
Chuckling, I tucked the box and jacket under my arm. “Best zombie-kid ever.”