Nightchild

Chapter 15

The slam of the front door brought Connie racing into the entry hall. "What the hell's wrong with you?" she asked, glancing at her friend's face. Then seeing how rumpled and covered with snow Blythe was, Connie began to laugh. "Have a little roll in the snow, did you?"

"Oh, shut up, Connie!"

"Come on in. Take all those nasty wet things off and get warm then you can tell me all about it," Connie said affecting a motherly tone while at the same time giggling at her friend's discomfiture.

"Very funny! I really am glad I'm able to bring some levity into your dull existence, but spare me the sarcasm. You have absolutely no idea what that bastard did!" Blythe retorted, stepping down into the large homey living room. Gratefully, she walked to the fireplace that roared its welcoming heat and began to shed the damp cold clothing that made her shiver with the memory of the last few minutes.

Connie watched as she slipped out of everything but her dress before commenting. "I can see one thing that bastard did. He ignited a spark in you I thought didn't exist. Come on, Blythe, level with me. Tell me what's really got you so riled up."

Blythe looked at her slyly, a grin touching the corners of her mouth as she curled up on the soft cream-colored carpet. Drawing her feet under her, she rested her chin on her arms and stared at the flames whose warmth radiated out to lightly kiss her face.

"You're being coy. Save that for the male species! Good grief, girl, don't play games with me. I'm your best friend and I know all your skeletons...by name!" Connie said, plopping down on the sofa, curling her own feet under her.

"Me play games? That's cute. What about Mr. Stevens finding me at the casino? How did you arrange that one? And what about you going off and leaving me at his mercy? And what about--"

"Leaving you at his mercy?" Connie burst in with a derisive snort. "In my opinion, dull and humble though it may be, it was probably the other way around. I do know you, my dear, better than anyone else and you're usually doing the chewing up and spitting out. Maybe I ought to be asking what it was he didn't let you do to him that has you so hot under the collar."

"My, I don't know which is greater, your use of graphic, if incorrect, descriptions or your talent for changing the subject. I thought you'd be in bed, sound asleep...how sweet of you to have a fire going. What were you doing, waiting up to see if I'd bring him into this cozy romantic little setting you created? Then what, would you have slipped out quietly through the kitchen as we walked arm in arm into your snare?"

The smile Connie flashed was guileless. "You really are such a bitch! You know, I did have that thought in mind. But actually, the reason for the cozy atmosphere was twofold. Beau fell asleep and I couldn't, so I came down, started the fire, put some coffee on and waited. I thought it might be nice when you did come home, alone or not. I had kind of hoped you wouldn't be coming in till much later. What happened?"

Blythe rolled onto her side and studied this open and painfully frank friend she had known since childhood and an infectious laugh escaped her as mischief lit her eyes. "The man had a bus to catch. And, yes, you're right...I am a bitch."

Not daring to give Connie an opening, Blythe hurried on, telling in as much detail as possible everything that had happened between her and the exasperatingly cocky Nate Stevens. Only twice did Connie move or interrupt her stormy oration to disappear and return with fresh cups of steaming coffee.

When Blythe had finished and could no longer stand the other woman's silence, she propped up on an elbow and asked, "Well?"

"Well, what?"