“She does that,” he agreed. “Did you know she survived a vampire attack when she was homeless and sixteen?”

Claire swallowed whatever she’d been about to say, which would have been snarky and sarcastic. Instead, she said, “Survived how?”

“Killed the vamp trying to drain her. She could have been executed—town rules. Instead, she was acquitted. No jail time. Brandon wasn’t happy about it—he was Amelie’s second-in-command at the time—but he had to swallow it. So really, there are only two humans in Morganville who’ve ever killed a vampire and gotten away with it.”

“Kim and who else?”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Richard Morrell,” he said.

“Seriously?” Because Richard Morrell was now the mayor of Morganville, one of the three most important people in town, and it boggled Claire’s mind to think that the vamps had allowed him to just . . . walk away from that. “When?”

Michael didn’t have time to answer, because his cell phone started playing “Born to Be Wild,” and he pulled it to check the screen. “Got to get ready,” he said. “Sorry. Story time later. Hey, trust me, Kim’s a force of nature, but like a storm, she moves on. Eve will be fascinated for a while, but Kim will find somebody else soon enough. It’s how she rolls.”

Claire had the really strong impression that he wasn’t telling her everything. Or anything, really. But he didn’t give her time to go into it, either, just storing his guitar in the case and heading upstairs.

“Get ready,” she repeated, still simmering. “Yeah, everybody’s got somewhere to be but me. You should get to know Kim; she’s interesting.” Claire put a load of mockery into her Michael impression. “Yeah right.”

The back door opened and closed, floorboards creaked in the kitchen, and Claire smelled the delicious wood-smoke aroma of barbecue. She couldn’t help but smile, because hey—barbecue.

And, of course, the one bringing it.

“Hey,” Shane said, and leaned over the couch to stare down at her. His hair was getting longer, and even more slacker-messy, as if he’d gone after the most annoying bits with a pair of scissors. Or garden trimmers. It should have looked horrible, but on him, somehow . . . it looked hot.

Not that she was in any way prejudiced.

“Hey,” she replied, and held up her hand for him to smack. Instead, he took it and kissed it lightly.

“Why the mopey face? Did I forget to say something?”

“From you, hey is good enough.” She sighed. Complaining about Kim hadn’t been the great release she’d thought it would be; Michael had been on the fence, at best, and she had no reason to think Shane would be any different. “I’m just in a terrible mood.”