Stakes & Stilettos - Michelle Rowen [23]
He raised an eyebrow as he looked skeptically at all the cars. “Ten minutes?”
“Fifteen at the very most. We don’t have that much time before we have to be at the reunion, anyhow.” I eyed the front lawn and the collection of winter decorations that included a family of reindeer that lit up at night and a big inflatable snowman. “And no mention of my staking. I don’t think my mother would take too well to knowing that I almost died. Especially after what happened to my apartment.”
Since my parents didn’t know about the vampire thing, I’d blamed the explosion on a gas leak and that I was staying with a friend until I found somewhere more permanent. My parents had freaked out, of course, and insisted I move back home with them until I could piece my life back together.
I was still piecing. But I wasn’t planning on moving back into my old bedroom, still decorated with Madonna and Bon Jovi posters. Not going to happen.
Thierry hadn’t asked me to move in with him yet. Despite everything going rather well between us lately, it did make me feel a little uneasy about the future.
No dwelling. Dwelling would be bad.
“Why would I tell her you were staked when she doesn’t know that you are a vampire?” he asked as we walked toward the front door, decorated with a big-ass wreath.
“Semantics,” I said. I reached for the doorbell, but Thierry stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Sarah, I know you are weary of my mentioning this, but every time we leave Toronto and go outside of our comfort zones we are putting ourselves in grave danger. Even here.”
“I know.” More than ever, I knew that. My chest still hurt like a stake-shaped elephant had sat on it. It hurt a little to breathe. Even vampires enjoyed breathing regularly, so it was a bit annoying. But I was there, I was going to make the most of it, and everything would be just fine. Or else.
I reached for the doorbell, but the door swung open before I got to it.
“Sweetie!” My mother’s arms were open and she gave me a big, warm hug. “I’m so glad to see you!”
“You, too, Mom.” I smiled. She smelled like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. “So who’s here?”
She looked vaguely guilty. “Well, honey, you visit so rarely that I thought I should make the most of this opportunity. A few of your aunts, uncles, cousins. I tried not to make a big to-do out of it.”
A family reunion. In ten minutes?
“Great,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
Thierry stood next to me silently. I disengaged from my mother and glanced at him.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Thierry.”
Her gaze traveled politely up his six-foot-tall frame to a face that would make any woman—no matter her age—feel a bit weak in the knees. He had that effect. As evidenced by Amy’s newfound crush, that his cool and stoic temperament might rub some people the wrong way didn’t mean he was hard on the eyes.
“A pleasure,” he said.
“What is your last name, Thierry?” she asked.
“It is… de Bennicoeur.”
“Goodness, that’s quite a mouthful isn’t it? What is that, French? Italian?”
“It’s French.”
“French Canadian? Are you from Quebec?”
“No.”
She blinked and smoothed her dark hair in place on the side of her head. I recognized it as a nervous habit. “You don’t have an accent.”
“I came to North America a very long time ago.”
“But you speak French?”
“Yes, I speak several languages.”
“Yes, well.” She shuffled back a few steps. “Please, leave your shoes right there”—she nodded at a large pile of muddy and snowy footwear—“and come in and join the rest of us. Care for a glass of wine?”
“Yum,” I said halfheartedly. Why had that greeting felt like the most awkward thing I’d ever witnessed? And mostly on Thierry’s part.
He didn’t feel comfortable here. It was obvious.
“We can leave,” I whispered to him as we moved along the short hallway to the family room.
He shook his head and squeezed my hand in his. “It’s fine. It’s an honor