Chapter 21

The next few days became ritual. I'd get home from work, and by six o'clock Monroe had called, and we were off to do something together. On Monday he had a quaint little bookstore he wanted to show me. We took in an early show at the Kendall Planetarium the next day, since I'd worked a half day. There was a Monet exhibit at the Portland Art Museum the day after that. Things I'd wanted to do for years with Jack were all scheduled out in less than a week with Monroe. There was never a dull moment. He had only taken one day off from us. He had a dinner date with his buddy, Nick, yesterday. I'd wanted to ask more about it, but I didn't question it.

I felt closer to Monroe than I had with anyone I'd ever dated, but we still hadn't labeled our outings as dates. It was the most frustrating relationship I'd ever been in. Platonic or not, we flirted and bantered, but there was no talk of anything more than that. Most days I wanted a Danielle Steele novel, but we were getting the slow chapters of Nicholas Sparks.

As promised, I'd kept Chloe in the loop. Although she'd never come right out and say it, she was happy Monroe wasn't making any advances. I was less than happy about that. I really needed my best friend to vent to, but she was content with telling me that maybe Monroe was just a flirt.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

The phone rang as I was opening my front door. I juggled the phone and the house keys to answer it before it stopped ringing. Monroe's name was on the cell display. He was calling earlier than usual.

"So, there's a wine tasting tonight at The Wine Cellar, if you'd like to go," Monroe said on the other end of the phone.

I pulled off my dress shoes, walked over to my couch, and reclined. "With the day I've had, I'd like to do more than taste it." I let out a soft sigh.

"Oh, that can be arranged, too," he replied, and I imagined that devilish grin of his. "I'll pick you up in half an hour." He hung up before I had a chance to object.

I really wasn't in a mood to go out tonight, but a couple of glasses of wine would dull the senses, and I could use the company. Fortunately, I didn't have to work tomorrow. If Monroe was driving, well I could have more than a couple of glasses of wine, then.

Going through my closet, I searched for something to wear. It might be nice to dress up for a change. I'd bought a blue, chiffon cocktail dress from Squirrel Girl last week and pulled it out. Lately I'd been going everywhere in jeans. I rushed around with the thirty minutes I had to freshen up. My multi-tasking was on overdrive as I applied make-up while locating my blue heels that matched my dress perfectly. I pinned back my hair and had enough spare time to run a curling iron over a few strands in the front. I admired my work in the mirror. Yeah, I felt better already.

A few moments later there was a knock on my door. I was humming 'Devil in a Blue Dress' as I opened it.

Monroe took a step back, his eyes moving down my outfit. "It's a wine tasting, not a gala," he said, but then added, "Not that I'm complaining though. You look ravishing!"

"Thanks," I replied. "Let me just get my jacket and purse, and I'm ready to go." I grabbed both items and locked the door.

"You know, I wish you'd said you were dressing up, dude," he commented, looking down at his black and white plaid shirt and jeans.

"I can change if you want," I offered.

"No, no, no!" he replied, waving the suggestion off. "That's not necessary." But he had that same sad, puppy dog look as he'd had before when we went to the symphony.

We headed to the VW, and I watched the road while Monroe drove to The Wine Cellar. The weekend was upon us, and the cars piled up on the street as the traffic mounted. Fortunately, it wasn't raining anymore, and I appreciated the reprieve.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

There was a good crowd when we arrived at The Wine Cellar, and I was in a lighter mood. This was more than just a simple wine tasting event. Couples were dancing to a jazz melody I was unfamiliar with, which was a rare thing. The live band must have been playing something original.

"I haven't danced in ages," I said aloud as Monroe and I walked further inside. "Do you dance?" I asked, turning in his direction.

Monroe grinned slightly. "Yeah, I can cut a rug." Cut a rug? Was he in his eighties or his thirties?

I cast him a warm smile. "Well, we may have to get out the scissors tonight and do some cutting."

Avoiding the dance floor, Monroe directed me toward the wine. We started with a few dry whites and then moved to sweet reds. Monroe's highly tuned palate distinguished flavors and tannins from some of these bottles that I couldn't taste at all.

"Oh, this one is definitely a 1995," he said as he breathed deeply into his glass. "I don't even have to sample it to know. I remember having a bottle of this a few years ago when…" He trailed off. "Sorry, the oenophile in me comes out every now and then."

"No, please continue," I said. "The way you can determine wine just by scent alone is…" I groped for the words that wouldn't be all-telling. "… extraordinary," I finished after a brief pause.

"Eh, you sorta get a nose for the bouquet," he replied, tapping his nose as he spoke. "These olfactories are a bit acute." That was an understatement. The better to smell wine with? That wasn't how the story went.

He took a sip, making a sour face. "They didn't let it breathe long enough." He set his glass down. "What a shame."

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

After sampling for a while, I left Monroe's side briefly to scope out a selection of wines on the other side of the store. They had quite an inventory. As I was reading the label of a 2008 Mount Veeder Cabernet Sauvignon, I had a funny feeling. Was I being watched? I turned, but there was no one behind me. Monroe was still across the room, engrossed in a conversation with a guy who was showing him his pocket watch. I turned back and continued reading the labels, shrugging it off.

When I moved over to the next shelf, there it was again. I felt eyes on me like they were burning against my skull. I turned more quickly this time. Still no one there. Now I was just paranoid. I shook my head and resumed looking at the wine shelves.

Heavy footsteps approached behind me, and then a familiar voice said in my ear, "Babe."

I spun around, and standing in an Abercrombie and Fitch shirt was my ex. "Jack!" I exclaimed. "What the hell?"

"I told you I was coming to Portland," he said, still smiling from ear to ear.

"But what are you doing here?" My face had to look pretty dumbfounded.

"I came to see you, so we can work things out. Your mom told me where you were living, so I headed to your house tonight."

My brows knotted. I was going to have to give my mother a stern talking to!

"But as I was pulling up on your street," he continued, "I saw you get into that piece of shit car with that guy. So I followed you, and here I am." He sounded proud of himself like he'd done something really grand. Had he been here this whole time? My stomach flipped at the thought.

"You don't just show up like this unannounced," I hissed, trying to keep my voice level, but I wanted to scream right now.

"If you'd answer your phone when I call, you'd have known I was coming." He gave me a smug grin.

Oh, no… the voicemail! Jack had left me that stupid voicemail after Monroe had dropped me off from the symphony. I didn't take it seriously. But here he was, and I was almost beside myself with anger.

I peeked through the crowd and spotted Monroe, who was still talking to Mr. Pocket Watch. Thank goodness he was occupied. I turned back to Jack. "So instead of calling me again, you followed me here instead?" I whispered and pulled Jack off to the side, so that Monroe wouldn't see us. "Who follows someone like that?"

"The better question would be, who's your lumberjack friend?" he asked, moving forward to point at Monroe.

"My friends are none of your business, Jack." I pulled his hand down, furrowing my brow. "So, why don't you kindly hit the road, and let me enjoy my evening."

Jack's green eyes stared into mine with intent on doing whatever it took to get me to pay attention to him. He always had to be the center of attention. And I thought Leos were the drama queens.

"You haven't been returning my calls or my texts," he replied after a moment. "I fly all this way here, and now you're telling me to leave?" His voice was getting louder, and a few people were starting to stare. Jack was trying to play a martyr, but I wasn't having any of it.

"Jack, this is neither the time nor the place to be having this discussion. Go!" I said again. I wasn't asking this time.

"Why?" He put on a smug grin. "Don't you want your date to see his competition?" He was inches away from my face now, breath reeking of Jim Beam. Oh, this wasn't going to end well.

"Competition? There's no competition," I hissed at him. "You're not in a race or a game, and I'm not some prize. We are over, and this conversation is over." I pointed at the door. "Jack, just go."

"You okay, Renée?" Monroe's voice came from behind me. He put his hand on my shoulder and eyed Jack. Crap! Could this night get any worse? It could, but I'd get to that later.

"Yes, I'm just fine," I replied, reaching for Monroe's hand.

"This is my replacement now, huh?" Jack scoffed, staring up at Monroe. "Where did you find this guy… out in the woods chopping down logs?"

Monroe looked down at Jack, who was all of five-foot-eight, and asked, "Who are you again?"

"Oh, so she didn't tell you about me?" Jack looked back in my direction, crossing his arms. "Renée, you didn't mention what you had back home?"

"Jack you're drunk, and you're making a fool of yourself." I sighed outwardly as a small crowd formed nearby. Just perfect. All Jack needed was an audience, and he'd really start acting out.

"What, so now I'm a fool?" Jack grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me close to him. I almost fell in my heels. He leaned in and planted a kiss on me. "Don't you miss that, babe?" he said with a sharp laugh.

Monroe's eyes flared red at the spectacle. He pulled me away from Jack, and then he faced my jerk of an ex, head on. His body swelled to full height. "I don't know who you think you are, dude, but I suggest you turn around and walk out of here before someone gets hurt, capiche?" Monroe's voice was deepening, and he obviously meant every word.

The whole place was watching now, and Jack was still laughing. "And just what do you think you're gonna do about it if I don't?" He taunted at Monroe. Oh, crap. This was gonna get ugly.

"Hey, man, you really need to rethink your words right now," Monroe warned. He was trying to give Jack every opportunity to just leave, but I knew Jack. The more Monroe talked, the more Jack was going to try to stand up to him.

Just then, Jack swung his fist. Monroe caught it mid-punch, grasping his hand in his own. Jack cried out just a little, since Monroe was squeezing his hand pretty hard. Jack, being the poor loser, tried to punch Monroe with his other fist, but Monroe was already one step ahead. He pinned Jack's hand behind his back, and forced him to the ground. The crowd was active now. There were gasps and commotion all around.

Monroe's features rapidly changed as he held Jack down. Jack the fighter never gave up. He spat, cursed, and yelled out, but Monroe had him restrained. An evil gleam emerged in Monroe's red eyes, and I recalled the Blutbad from the mall. One false move and Monroe could easily snap Jack in two. It scared me, not for Jack's sake, but that Monroe had the capability to do it.

"Renée, you gonna let him do this to me?" Jack called over in my direction. The crowd turned for my response.

I held my head in my hands. It was a nightmare, it just had to be. Maybe I'd just wake up in my bed and all this would be over. I glanced back up at Monroe, who was giving me an 'it's your call what I do next' look.

"Renée," Jack called out again.

"Jack, you did this to yourself," I said loudly. I had to restrain my recklessness from going over there myself and giving him a sharp kick in the head. "Just leave before the cops come. Get on whatever plane you got off of, and let me live my life." I turned and walked outside.

Steam was coming out of my ears as the doors closed behind me. How dare Jack do this! I wanted to cry or scream, but I was too upset to choose which one would make me feel better. The night air numbed my skin, and I closed my eyes. There were whirls of sirens in the distance. Maybe someone really had called the police?

A few moments later, someone touched my shoulder, startling me as my eyes popped open.

Monroe was by my side, giving me a concerned look. "When I let him up, he kinda darted out the back entrance," he said. "So, umm, that's your ex, I take it?" He strained a smile. It was awkward, but he was trying to keep me calm.

"I'm so mortified right now! Who follows someone like a stalker? Oh, Monroe, he knows where I live!" This was worse than any Big Bad Wolf knowing my address. Jack was vindictive. I didn't want to even imagine the things he might do.

"I can keep you safe," Monroe replied while pulling me toward him.

"Thanks," I muttered, leaning my head against his chest. This was the closest I'd ever been to holding Monroe. I breathed in his woodsy, spicy mystery cologne as his arms wrapped around me. Jack wasn't going to get the best of me, so I held back my tears.

"My ex is a little crazy, too," Monroe said with a short chuckle, "but that's why they're exes for a reason." He let out a deep sigh. "Hopefully we never run into her." His body shuddered as I continued to hold him.

I looked up at Monroe. "I apologize for all this. This was supposed to be a wonderful evening and now…" I shook my head as my words faded.

"You didn't plan on this happening," he reasoned. "And we can still have a good night. Let me take you home, and we'll crack open a bottle of wine there."

I breathed out heavily, pushing on my practiced calm to wash over me, but it didn't want to happen tonight. "Guess I can mark this place off my list of return visits," I said, trying to make a joke to clear the air.

Monroe smiled. "Yeah, good thing there are other places to buy wine." He gave my hand a comforting squeeze.

We walked back to his car. As he opened the passenger side for me, I slumped into the seat. He walked around to the driver's side and turned the radio on low. Chopin's 'Nocturne in E Flat Major' played softly in the VW. By now he knew that music soothed me more than anything.

"Human beings are morons," I said on the drive back. I should've said, 'people.' I needed to watch my words. Did he pick up on that? I gave Monroe a sideways glance.

He nodded but didn't question the statement.

While Monroe drove us back to my house, I hummed 'Hit the Road Jack,' but this time I was completely conscious of what I was humming. Monroe chuckled lightly and shook his head at me, but he seemed to understand completely.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

Monroe went inside the house first just to make sure there was nothing out of sorts. I stood on the porch, holding myself as I tried to keep my thoughts clear.

"Looks fine," he said once he returned and stood in the doorway. "Let's go in and have our own wine tasting." He gave me a wink.

Two bottles later it was nearing midnight, and I was feeling pretty good.

"Monroe you are my knight in a shining VW," I said with a dopey grin. I was back to having no inner monologue.

Monroe smiled under his beard. "I don't know about that." He scratched his chin. "I'm not much of a do-gooder."

"Well, you could've fooled me," I replied. "You've been saving me since I met you." I wasn't used to needing this much saving. Actually, I was pretty resilient back home. Portland had turned me into a helpless, angsty gal. Was Monroe getting tired of having to rescue me so much? I'd be pretty tired of it.

"I haven't had to rescue you all that much," he commented, "and I don't mind." I was talking aloud again.

"A good hero is a modest one," I replied.

While I lay on the couch, my head rested in Monroe's lap, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. I started humming 'Holding out For a Hero' by Bonnie Tyler as Monroe stroked my hair.

"There you go humming again," he mused.

I sighed contentedly. "Bad habits." His hands felt so good. If I could've purred I would've. I may not have been Wesen, but I was a Leo, and I enjoyed someone giving my hair attention.

I sat up and then managed to get on my feet. Wobbly crossing the room to my bookshelf, I turned on the stereo and put in my CD of 'The Best of Eric Clapton.' I smiled as I turned toward Monroe. "You owe me some rug cutting, Mister."

Monroe looked up at me from the couch. "Oh, I dunno about that." Was he trying to play off that he didn't remember?

"Come on," I said, holding my hand out to him. "I haven't danced in forever."

Monroe stood up from the couch and made his way toward me. He took my hand gently, and then wrapped his other arm around my waist. I rested my head on his chest while we swayed to Clapton's 'You Look Wonderful Tonight.' The dancing started slow, but then Clapton's 'Bad Love' began. Monroe surprised me as he effortlessly took the lead, and we moved about the room. I thought back to Beauty and the Beast. The living room wasn't nearly as beautiful as a ballroom in a castle, but it was as close as I was going to get to a fairy tale tonight.

Even in my four inch heels I was still a few inches shorter than Monroe. I stared up into his eyes, which between the brown and flickering red had taken on an almost russet color. "So, what do we have going on here?" I asked aloud. I was back to being bold and chatty. "You know I adore you, right?" There I'd said it. I'd have to watch what else I said, but I could say that easily.

Monroe blinked a few moments, taking in what I'd said. "And I… adore you, too," he finally replied. Well, now we were getting somewhere! But he hadn't answered my question.

I smiled and rested my head back on his chest as the music switched to 'Layla,' and we were swaying again. His cologne soothed me, and in that moment I forgot about the events at The Wine Cellar. I wanted to kiss him, but I was back to being fourteen and angsty. Why was this so hard? I'd made out with people I could care less about. But with Monroe I was content just being this close to him.

Toward the end of the song he dipped me backward, his trademark smile casting down at me as he hovered. The flickering in his eyes stopped as it landed on red. He leaned in slowly. I anticipated his lips on mine, and my eyelids slid closed. A loud noise outside startled us both. With one swift motion, my eyes were wide open, and I was on my feet.

We turned our heads toward the back door through the kitchen.

"Maybe it's just a raccoon," I suggested, knowing full well it wasn't.

"That's no raccoon," Monroe growled as he replied. He went into a woge and ran to the back door.

I grabbed my Louisville Slugger from the mount on the wall, preparing for the worst as I went into the kitchen. There was another male voice besides Monroe's coming from outside. Oh, Jack, why did you have to come here?

I staggered to the door in time to see Monroe and Jack struggling out in the back yard. It was a mishmash of Abercrombie and plaid rolling through the yard. I walked out to the patio, gripping my bat tightly. I was too drunk to stand, much less protect myself. Here I was in a chiffon dress and heels, holding a baseball bat. How silly I must have looked.

The growls from Monroe were vicious. Jack was screaming obscenities, pulling and punching whatever he could, but he was obviously losing this battle. I stumbled back into the house and dialed 911. Was I protecting Jack or trying to get him arrested? Either way, I had to do something. The dispatcher said they would send a patrol car immediately.

I walked back out and yelled to both of them, "The police are on their way." That seemed to slow them down, and Monroe held Jack back on the ground.

"You're such a whore!" Jack called out to me. At his words, Monroe unceremoniously punched him in the face. Monroe looked into my eyes, and I nodded, letting him know that I condoned the punch wholeheartedly.

"Looks like that boxing I did in college paid off after all," Monroe said with a smile.

Jack was out for the count, lying on the ground when the police arrived. We were able to explain that we were defending ourselves, so Monroe was safe from any persecution. The officers took Jack into custody, carrying him to the patrol car.

Once the police left, I collapsed on the couch. My head was spinning from the alcohol and the night's events. Monroe's plaid shirt and jeans had quite a few mud stains, but fortunately there wasn't a scratch on him. He took the top shirt off, leaving his black undershirt. It was the plainest I'd ever seen him.

"Monroe, I'm so sorry," I said for the hundredth time tonight. Monroe held me again. "Leave your shirt, and I'll launder it," I offered. I had to fight with my drunkenness not to ask him to leave the pants, too.

Monroe shook his head while frowning. "You can't blame yourself for that redneck."

I laughed that he'd used the term redneck. "Maybe he'll find himself a boyfriend in jail tonight." I laughed again, trying not to cry.

Monroe's cell phone rang, and he stood up to answer it. "Hey, man..." he said into the receiver. "No, it's cool." He paused and looked at me a moment.

I pointed to the hallway behind us, and he walked off. I closed my eyes and listened. The hallway had an echo, and Monroe's side of the conversation carried pretty well.

"Yeah, man… well, her ex showed up while we were out, and then followed us back to her place… Yeah, they just took him around five minutes ago… No, dude. His arms are fine. That's not funny, Nick."

What was that about Jack's arms? Perhaps Monroe had broken someone's bones in his last fight. He did have those battle wounds on his face when I'd brought him the cuckoo clock a few weeks ago. Maybe Monroe got into fights pretty often.

The conversation went into something about missing body parts and children. I held my ears at that point. I didn't want to know what they were discussing. The negative thoughts would creep back in, and right now I needed Monroe the hero, not the villain.

Monroe returned a few moments later. "Sorry, that was my, uh, friend Nick." He sat back down on the couch beside me. "Nick, uh, heard what happened over the police scanner and, you know, wanted to make sure we were all right."

"So is he a cop?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Monroe hesitated. "Well, he's a detective for the Portland police."

"Oh," I simply replied.

So, the mysterious Nick was a detective. More of the puzzle was opening up. What could Monroe be helping a cop with? My head was too fried to try to put these jigsaw pieces together tonight. Did this Nick guy know where I lived? They just said addresses on police scanners. Did they mention Jack being unconscious after they'd left? Maybe they had, since Monroe had punched Jack pretty hard.

"Why don't you head on to bed, and I'll sleep on the couch tonight in case you need anything," he offered, taking my hand and placing a swift kiss on top.

I didn't protest, although I was close to asking him to kiss me other places and sleep with me in the bedroom. The drunkenness was wearing off, because I'd actually said that to myself.

I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, lingering slightly. I could kiss him there just fine, but if I tried to do more with him… Oh, I just needed to shut my brain up and go to sleep. "Thank you, hero," I murmured near his ear, before leaning back and lifting myself off the couch.

Once I'd made it to my bedroom, I passed out pretty quickly, dreaming about Monroe having Jack on a silver platter with an apple in his mouth.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

The next morning I awoke to an empty house. Monroe had already left. There was a note on the coffee table.

I meant what I said last night.
M.

What did he say? He adored me? He'd keep me safe? So vague, Monroe. So incredibly vague. I wanted to crumple the paper up, but I set it back down. I called Chloe. I needed to talk to someone about what had happened last night.

"Jack did what?" Chloe gasped as I told her about my visitor from Kentucky.

"Yeah, he came to Portland to 'work things out.' Apparently my mom gave him my address here. I'm going to have to send her a thank you card for this one," I said sarcastically.

"She doesn't know Jack is nuts. Your mom was just being her typical self."

"Interfering?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Chloe chuckled. "But, in her own way she did it because she loves you."

I scoffed. "Yeah, well, she needs to find new ways to love me."

"So what did he do?" Chloe asked with concern.

I told her about the scene at the wine tasting, Jack following us back to my house, and heroic Monroe.

"He punched Jack in the face when he called me a whore," I said, replaying the scene in my head and smiling. "Knocked him out cold."

"Monroe did?" Chloe gasped. It was the first time she'd actually called him by his name without disdain in her voice. Maybe this was a good sign? "Well, I might have some newfound respect for the guy."

I told her about the police, and I mentioned Monroe's friend, Nick the detective.

"So, he's helping a cop? I'm not getting what he could do for the police," she said, and I agreed with her.

"What else in the Wesen world would a Blutbad associate with?" I asked Chloe.

"Blutbaden really don't play well with others," she replied. "They usually stick to their own kind. But your guy is making up his own rules, so who knows what he might be doing?" Chloe sounded as clueless as I felt.

"I'm going to tell Monroe everything," I said. I waited to see if Chloe was going to yell, but she didn't.

"You should tell him, Renée. If he's really how you've describe him, then he deserves to know the truth." I was pleasantly surprised I was getting her support.

"If Monroe stays in my life, are you going to avoid visiting?" I asked.

"One thing at a time," Chloe stressed. "Let's see how he takes your news first, and we'll go from there, okay?" She clicked her teeth a few times. "You've got to tell him carefully though. He may not react well. You can't be reckless this time." Again, she knew me so well.

As I got off the phone with Chloe, I picked up the note again off the coffee table. I tried to read more into the few words that were there. I flipped it to the back. Maybe there was a hidden symbol or something that would give me a better understanding, but no, it was just a note.

I needed to clear my head, so I wore my red hoodie, and went out for a long run. Who cared if there were Blutbaden out there? I just needed to escape for a while.

A/N: Thank you for all the comments! I love reading each one! (:

There are 9 chapters left, stay tuned!