Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [726]
I looked at the clean windows. “Feeling guilty, huh?” I said.
Amelia’s shoulders slumped. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of one of her weird teas, steam rising from the dark liquid.
“Yeah,” she said glumly. “I saw the quilt was in the washing machine. I worked on the spot, and it’s hanging out back on the line now.”
Since I’d noted that when I came in, I just nodded. “Bob retaliated,” I said.
“Yeah.”
I started to ask her who she’d stayed with, then realized it was really none of my business. Besides, though I was very tired, Amelia was a broadcaster of the first order, and within seconds I knew she’d stayed with Calvin’s cousin Derrick and the sex hadn’t been good; also, Derrick’s sheets had been very dirty and that had made her nuts. Plus, when Derrick had woken up this morning, he’d indicated that in his mind, a night together made them a couple. Amelia had had a hard time getting Derrick to give her a ride back to the house. He wanted her to stay with him, in Hotshot.
“Weirded out?” I asked, putting the hamburger meat in the refrigerator drawer. It was my week to cook, and we were going to have hamburger steak, baked potatoes, and green beans.
Amelia nodded, lifting her mug to take a sip. It was a homemade hangover restorative she’d concocted, and she shuddered as she experimented on herself. “Yeah, I am. Those Hotshot guys are a little strange,” she said.
“Some of them.” Amelia had adjusted better to my telepathy than anyone I’d ever encountered. Since she was frank and open anyway—sometimes way too much—I guess she never felt she had secrets to hide.
“What are you gonna do?” I asked. I sat down opposite her.
“See, it’s not like I’d been dating Bob for a long time,” she said, jumping right into the middle of the conversation without bothering with preliminaries. She knew I understood. “We’d only gotten together that one night. Believe me, it was great. He really got me. That’s why we began, ah, experimenting.”
I nodded, tried to look understanding. To me, experimenting was, well, licking a place you’d never licked before, or trying a position that gave you a cramp in your thigh. Like that. It did not involve turning your partner into an animal. I’d never worked up enough nerve to ask Amelia what their goal had been, and it was one thing her brain wasn’t throwing out.
“I guess you like cats,” I said, following my train of thought to its logical conclusion. “I mean, Bob is a cat, but a small one, and then you picked Derrick out of all the guys who would have been thrilled to spend the night with you.”
“Oh?” Amelia said, perking up. She tried to sound casual. “More than one?”
Amelia did have the tendency to think way too well of herself as a witch, but not enough of herself as a woman.
“One or two,” I said, trying not to laugh. Bob came in and wreathed himself around my legs, purring loudly. It could hardly have been more pointed, since he walked around Amelia as if she were a pile of dog poop.
Amelia sighed heavily. “Listen, Bob, you’ve gotta forgive me,” she said to the cat. “I’m sorry. I just got carried away. A wedding, a few beers, dancing in the street, an exotic partner . . . I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. How about I promise to be celibate until I can figure out a way to turn you back into yourself?”
This was a huge sacrifice on Amelia’s part, as anyone who’d read her thoughts for a couple of days (and more) would know. Amelia was a very healthy girl and she was a very direct woman. She was also fairly diverse in her tastes. “Well,” she said, on second thought, “what if I just promise not to do any guys?”
Bob’s hind end sat while his front end stood, and his tail wrapped around his front paws. He looked adorable as he stared up at Amelia, his large yellow eyes unblinking. He appeared to be thinking it over. Finally, he said, “Rohr.”
Amelia smiled.