The Dare (24 page)

"No sex?"

"Cute." He threw a pillow at my face. "No,
that I was going to hell."

"Well, at least Grandma won't be there," I
offered cheerfully.

"Point Jace." He closed his eyes and
moaned.

"Are you really sick?"

"Do I look sick?"

He was still in all his clothes but lying
across the bed; his eyes had dark circles underneath them, and he
looked pale.

"Kind of."

"So I look like shit?"

"Of course not."

He gave a relieved sigh.

"Shit looks like Donkey."

He closed his eyes and mumbled a curse. "It's
like the island of misfit toys."

"And you're the king. Yay, you!" I offered a
playful punch to the arm.

"Jace!" A hard knock sounded at the door.
"Jace, it's Grandma! I brought you tea!"

"Shit!"

"Hee-haw." I chuckled.

"Not the time for games, Beth. I'll pay you.
I will do anything you want. I'll go find Frank. I'll let Frank
bite me
—
just don't let her think I'm
healthy. Please, I can't take one more thing."

He looked too pitiful. Too beautiful. And
honestly? I wanted to be stuck in the room with him. I wanted him
all to myself.

"Lie back."

"Wait, what are you doing?"

He struggled against me while I pulled his
shirt over his head and pulled the covers over his body.

"Just a minute, Grandma!" I ran into the
bathroom and got some hot water and a washrag. I threw it at Jace's
face and whispered, "Fever of a hundred, your muscles ache, you've
lost vision in your left eye, are sensitive to loud noises and
light, and have a sore throat."

"So I'm dying?" he snapped.

"No. You have the flu. Stop being such a guy
and cough."

"Oh, if I had a dollar for every time a
doctor told me that."

I smirked and gave him a pointed stare before
marching to the door and throwing it open.

"Oh Grandma, I'm so glad you cared enough to
come, but I have everything totally under control."

"Do you?" Her eyebrow shot up as she peered
around me. "Have you used the honey?"

"Er, no."

"Or the onions and mustard?"

"He's sick, not planning a picnic."

Grandma pushed past me. "And the tea? Did you
make the tea?"

"Not yet, but
—
"

"Move."

Grandma shoved me aside and breezed into the
room, carrying something on a tray. Something that smelled like
shit, actual shit, not Donkey.

"So you say you're sick?" Grandma paced in
front of Jace's bed. He had that deer-in-headlights look that
people get when they don't know how to lie to save their lives.

I made wild gestures behind Grandma, grabbing
my throat and then touching my forehead and finally covering my
left eye. Unfortunately, she chose that exact moment to turn
around.

"What are you doing?"

"P-pirate."

"Role play," Jace interjected. "When I was a
kid, my dad used to do a pirate voice to make me feel better."

"Oh, how lovely." Grandma took a seat on the
bed. "You may proceed, Beth."

"Yes, Beth," Jace's stone face cracked into a
smile, "proceed. You know how much better it makes my tummy."

I was going to kill him. No, better yet, I
was going to leave him to Grandma, see how he liked her as a nurse
when she was stabbing a needle in his godlike ass.

"Well?" Grandma urged.

I pasted a smile on my face and swung my arm
in front of my body. "Ahoy, matey. Thar be booty t'seek."

Jace covered his mouth with his hands and
started coughing.

Grandma's face drew together in concern.
"Dear, maybe a career in theatre isn't in your future. But who am I
to judge? If that makes poor Jace feel better then…" She shrugged.
"Besides if that doesn't work, I brought my magic tea."

"Magic tea?" I asked, peering over her petite
shoulder. She lifted the top of the container and pointed inside.
"See the chicken feathers?"

Jace's eyes widened in horror.

"Why yes," I grinned, "I do."

"It's an ancient recipe, passed down through
my family. What you do is, you boil the feathers in hot water then
drink the hot water once the feathers have been boiled for at least
eight minutes."

"Tasty." I almost threw up in my mouth.

"We should count our lucky stars that the
restaurant had some live chickens out back. I plucked a few of
these beauts and steamed them right up."

"I bet Jace is counting his stars right
now."

He flipped me off and glared.

"Here, Jace," Grandma poured some cloudy
liquid into a white cup and handed it to him, "this will make you
all better. You do want to get better, don't you?"

"Yes." His jaw flexed.

Holy crap. He was going to do it. He was
going to drink the tea. I almost didn't want to look, but I
couldn't help it. He brought the cup to his lips, took a small sip,
and grimaced before pulling it back. A small feather attached
itself to his lips.

"Oh dear, it was a male chicken. I can always
tell these things." Grandma pulled the feather from Jace's lips and
chuckled. "Back when I sexed chickens, well, it was my job to
figure out which was which."

"Sexed. Chickens?" Jace repeated, his voice
hoarse. "That's not a job, Grandma. And I doubt this works."

You'd think Jace would have already learned
his lesson: Never doubt Grandma. And when she says something that
just shouts crazy, don't engage. Just back away and leave it alone.
Because it was a guarantee that something insane, illogical, and,
nine times out of ten, illegal would be shared in her presence.

"It works, and it is too a job. Want to know
how to tell the difference between a female chicken and a male
chicken?"

"No. No, I don't." Jace shook his head. "I'm
sick. I want a good night's sleep without visions of you sexing
chickens."

"Not until your tea's finished," Grandma
instructed, urging the tea closer to his mouth. He seemed to pale
as the cup was brought closer to his lips.

Jace's eyes darted to mine. I knew that look.
It was fear, pure fear. I took pity on the guy; after all, he was
drinking feather tea.

"Tell me, Grandma," I grabbed her hands and
had turned her toward me, while behind me, Jace slowly poured the
tea into the potted plant next to the bed. We'd just committed
murder via feather tea. Poor plant would be lucky to survive the
next five minutes, let alone an entire day.

Best bet, the plant dies or turns into a
hybrid chicken plant that Grandma takes credit for discovering.

My imagination was running away from me. I
really needed to get normal friends.

"Well, the males' are jagged, whereas the
females' are smooth," Grandma said, serious as a heart attack. "You
see, there's feather sexing and feather venting."

I had no words.

Jace cleared his throat, "Venting?"

"Oh yes." Grandma chuckled. "But there's a
school for that."

I felt my eyes widen in horror as Grandma
chuckled and pulled a feather from the giant tea pot.

"After all, doctors don't graduate high
school and start performing surgeries! They need expertise. So do
sexers."

"Is that what they're called?" I shouldn't
have asked, but my curiosity was destroying me.

"Yes." Grandma nodded. "Sexers. But like I
said, I wasn't a chicken sexer, per se. I sexed the feathers."

Jace pursed his lips together. "You… sexed
the feathers?"

"How does one
—
"

"Beth." Jace started coughing wildly.

"Oh dear!" Grandma reached for the kettle.
"Do you need more tea?"

"No!" Jace and I said in unison.

"Sleep." Jace yawned. "Beth will take care of
me. Promise."

She turned just as Jace brought the cup back
from his lips and held it out. "Well, good job!"

He beamed.

I rolled my eyes behind Grandma.

"Now, I'll leave you to sleep. Beth, if his
throat keeps getting sore, be sure to make him a mustard sandwich
with onions. It's hell when you wanna kiss your honey goodnight,
but it works like a charm. Ta-ta!" She took her tray and left.

"I think she just killed my stomach." Jace
burped and then groaned. "Holy shit, it tastes like chicken
feathers. I'm dying! She poisoned me!"

"Stop being dramatic. She was just trying to
help."

"No, that woman is a lunatic!" he yelled.
"Chicken feathers? Sexing chickens? She was trying to call our
bluff! Need I remind you that she put Viagra in my tea?"

"Well you showed her," I said dryly. "So
brave."

"Tell me, Captain Jack, where's the rum?"

"Arrgh."

"Nice." Jace laughed. "You sound like a
pirate with a cold, and, by the way, your accent sounded like a
cross between an Australian and very confused Canadian. Good job,
eh?"

"I hate you."

"You nicknamed me Thor
—
you love me." He grinned. "Thanks for taking care of
me, by the way, and for helping me kill the plant."

I should have slit his throat when I had the
chance; instead, I picked up a feather.

"Thirsty?"

"Are you threatening me?" He seemed amused at
the prospect.

"Yes, better be on your best behavior, or I'm
calling Grandma in to nurse you back to health."

"She'd kill me."

"I know."

"My death would be on your hands."

"I'm aware of that."

"Asphyxiation via feathers."

I smirked. "Oregon State Senator Jace Brevik
found dead in Hawaiian hut, surrounded by chicken feathers and
Viagra."

His amusement faded before my very eyes. "You
don't think she put more… stuff in my tea do you?"

"Why?" I scooted across the bed and lay down
next to him. "You feeling inspired again?"

"
Inspired
makes it sound like I'm
rarely inspired, which is ridiculous because I'm inspired a
hell-of-a-lot more than usual."

"Maybe it's me," I offered. "Then again, it
could be the chickens."

"Not the chickens, not the pool toys, not any
of those things." He reached for my hand and sighed. "I'm sorry,
you know."

"For what?"

"Everything."

The room was completely silent except for my
stupid heart as it rammed against my chest. He kept holding my
hand, and I wondered if it was because he wanted to give me the
fairytale, or if it was because he actually wanted to hold it.

"I shouldn't have run," Jace whispered.

"What are you talking about?"

"Prom." He squeezed my hand harder and then
pulled me into his lap. "I should have stayed."

"And done what?" I laughed nervously. "Fought
for my honor?"

"Something like that."

He dipped his hand into my hair and ran that
same warm hand down my neck, sending chills to my toes.

"It was never that I didn't want to fight
—
I just hate letting people down. In
theory, it sounds good. I don't like people being disappointed in
me, but that's only partially the truth. I hate disappointment, but
it's only by those I deem worthy of approval in the first place.
And because I didn't know you, other than the taste of your lips
and heat of your mouth, it wasn't worth it to me. You weren't worth
it."

"Are you trying to make me cry?" My chest
felt like an elephant had just decided to camp on it and invited
all his friends and family.

Jace's eyes softened. "I'm trying to
apologize."

"Try harder," I urged.

"Second chances are rare."

"Unless you're Grandma and have God's ear.
Then you have as many chances as she allows, until she kills you
herself."

"True."

What was happening, exactly? Was he
apologizing for high school, or was he apologizing for now? And why
was he looking at me like I'd just declared my undying love for
him? Yes. I liked him, possibly loved him now that I'd gotten to
know him, but it was more of an irritating love. The kind that
pokes you until you finally give up and accept your fate. And I
wasn't ready to admit anything yet, especially to the one guy I
knew would be walking away from me in a few days.

"You're my second chance." Bomb officially
dropped.

I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to cry
tears of joy or slap him in the face. His grin was cocky, as if I
should be thankful that he was finally bleeding his feelings all
over the place. I wasn't thankful. I was irritated. Irritated that
his epic speech wasn't that he couldn't live without me, but that
I'd finally worn him down, like some sort of cold that takes
control of your immune system.

"Say something." He kissed my mouth.

It was a tie between wanting to kiss Thor
back or throw him in the bathtub with his hammer on.

"Was that it?" I asked calmly.

"What?"

"Was that
the speech
?" I pulled away
from him and stood.

"No?"

"Is that a question or an answer?"

"Um," he scratched his head and looked
helplessly around the room, "I thought you liked me."

"Oh, dear Lord." I closed my eyes and pinched
the bridge of my nose. "Of course, I like you. Of course, I believe
in second chances, and I accept your apology for partially getting
us caught in this fiasco. But Jace," I fought to keep my voice
even, "girls don't work that way."

"What do you mean?"

"You can't just give us the words and expect
a pat on the ass and a cookie."

"How about just a pat on the ass." He
smirked.

"Be serious!" I almost stomped my foot. Good
one. "You expect me to fall all over myself because you said sorry?
You expect sex because you want a second chance, yet you haven't
even told me why you want one. You said you were walking away in a
few days. Is that still true?"

Jace stood and reached for me, his hands
digging into my shoulders as he pulled me into his embrace. "That
depends on you."