13. Kiki

Chapter 13

Kiki

I've seen some wild parties in my day, but this? This takes the cake. And probably eats it too, judging by the mountain of desserts on one of the many overflowing buffet tables.

Gruffydd's massive paw engulfs my hand as he leads me toward the dance floor. "Ready to learn how to square dance?" His fanged grin is infectious.

"As ready as I'll ever be to potentially embarrass myself in front of an entire underground civilization," I quip.

He chuckles, a deep rumble that vibrates through me. "You'll do great. Just follow my lead."

Gruffydd ushers me to the side of the dance floor and as the dance progresses, a booming voice hollers out calls while Gruffydd teaches me the steps. I learn how to allemande left, do-si-do, and promende all while enormous furry bodies twirl around us sporting grins as wide as the Mississippi. It's chaos and I do my best to keep up.

These Sasquatches really know how to party.

"Swing your partner!" the call yells out and suddenly I'm airborne.

I let out a squeal that's half delight, half terror as he spins me around effortlessly.

Every now and then, I catch a glimpse of Bambi or Steph. They look as though they’re having fun too.

It’s almost a wonder we don’t get trampled on, the three of us being so much shorter than the rest of the revelers.

After what feels like hours (but in a good way), Gruffydd and I collapse onto a bench, both of us breathing heavily and grinning from ear to ear.

"That was...something else," I pant, fanning myself with my hand.

Gruffydd beams at me. "You're a natural."

I snort. "A natural disaster, maybe." But I can't stop smiling.

He jumps up suddenly. "Wait here. I'll get us some refreshments."

As I watch him lumber off towards the food tables, I can't help but notice something odd. Every time a male Sasquatch approaches within ten feet of me, they suddenly veer off in another direction. It happens once, twice, three times.

Gruffydd returns with two plates piled high with an assortment of foods.

"Hey, quick question," I say casually as I accept a plate. "Do I stink or something?"

Gruffydd looks bewildered. "What? No, of course not. You smell like springtime and wildflowers and sunshine and?—"

I hold up a hand to stop his flowery (pun intended) description. "Okay, Romeo. Then why does every other male here avoid me like I'm patient zero in a zombie apocalypse?"

His chest puffs out proudly. "Oh, that. I told them if they came near you, I'd kill them."

I choke on the bite of what I think might be some kind of fruit pastry. "I'm sorry, you what now?"

"Don't worry," he assures me, completely missing my stunned expression. "I'm very efficient at fighting. I could take out anyone who wronged you quickly and cleanly."

"Whoa there, big guy." I pat his furry chest. "Let's dial it back a notch."

He tilts his head, looking puzzled. "You...don't want me to protect and cherish you?"

I can't help but laugh at his earnest confusion. "Protecting and cherishing are great. Murder? Not so much. How about we stick to non-lethal forms of protection?”

His forehead furrows, he crosses his arms over his wide chest, and grunts, “Hmph.”

I click my tongue at him. “Promise me—no killing, okay?"

He looks a bit deflated but nods. "Fine. I promise. No killing." Then he perks up. "But I make no promises about maiming or scarring."

I roll my eyes, but I’m not as annoyed as I pretend to be. His over-the-top protectiveness is oddly endearing. In a Neanderthal sort of way.

As the night wears on and the party starts to wind down, Gruffydd turns to me with a serious expression. "Kiki, about this courting thing. How many dates does it usually require before we can, um..." He trails off, looking adorably flustered.

I bite back a laugh. "Before we can what, Gruffydd?" I bat my eyelashes innocently.

He shifts uncomfortably. "Before we can...share a bed?"

At his words, the sip of water in my mouth goes down the wrong pipe and I’m overtaken by a coughing fit.

This guy keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure, but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it. A lot. All night. Which is crazy, right? I mean, big hairy guy. Small relatively hairless chick.

He's a Sasquatch, for crying out loud!

But there's something about him his gentleness paired with his strength and protectiveness (possessiveness), his earnestness, the way he looks at me like I'm the most precious thing in the world. It all combines to make my heart do somersaults.

I lean in close, enjoying the way his breath catches. "Is that what this has all been about? Getting me into your bed?"

His eyes go wide. "No! I mean, yes, but not just that. I want?—"

"Shhh." I cut him off with a finger to his lips, surprised by how soft they feel. Then I take a deep breath, hardly believing what I'm about to say. "Tonight's your lucky night, big guy."

The look of pure shock on his face is almost comical. "Really? When?”

“When we leave here I suppose. When do you want to call it a night?”

“Now."

I laugh, feeling giddy and reckless and more alive than I have in months. "Lead the way."

Instead of walking, he scoops me up in his arms like I weigh nothing and carries me out of the Hub.

This whole underground Sasquatch city isn't such a bad place to hang out for a while.

A traitorous little voice in the back of my mind whispers, "What if this could be more than just a temporary thing?" But I squash it down. I refuse to lose hope that I might someday be able to return to the life I miss—red carpets, flashing cameras, adoring fans.

As we exit the Hub, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a polished stone wall. For a second, I don't recognize the woman staring back at me. Sure, I’m wearing my Maria Garcia get-up—the wig and oversized glasses—but that’s not it.

The woman in the reflection looks...dare I say it…happy. Not the camera-ready smile I've perfected over the years. Genuinely happy.