Page 52 of Love vs The Ooze Monster!
Hoofer: (1920s slang) A talented dancer
“I’m not much of a hoofer.” Mabel said at 10:46 that night. “But, we’re going to have to dance before we have sex.”
Boyd wasn’t going to argue. He was agreeable to whatever got her into his bed faster. “Alright.”
He was sitting on the comfortable chair in the library, watching the clock over the mantle tick down the seconds until eleven. Mabel was hovering in the doorway, as if debating an escape attempt. She wore a silky white nightgown, which was a very promising sign.
Boyd wasn’t about to do anything to scare her off, so he was being as motionless and unassuming as possible. So far, that tactic seemed to be working. Mabel liked to be in control, so he’d get her naked a lot easier if she decided it was all her idea.
Mabel chewed on her lower lip. “Really, considering everything that’s happening with Rico and the ooze monster --Not to mention the Pioneer Picnic is tomorrow and Mr. Schmidt is buying quite a bit of beer from us-- it might make sense to postpone our rendezvous for a day or so.” She was talking too fast. “Just until…”
Boyd cut off the rush of words. “No.”
“But if you think about it…”
“No.” He repeated. “The vinegar and baking soda are here, stacked in the garage. Just as soon as we corner the monster, we can kill it.”
“If that idea even works. We haven’t tested it on the living creature.”
“If it doesn’t work, we’ll come up with another plan.”
She shook her head, like she was talking herself out of her pessimism. “It’ll work. The theory is sound. I did very well in chemistry class.”
Boyd found her braininess extremely sexy. He found everything about her sexy.
“I’ve got men in the sewers, looking for the creature’s trail.” He continued. “The Pioneer Picnic is under control, too. The boys guarding the docks will drive the beer out to Wheeler’s Lost Pond in the morning. I’ll have extra guys from our new outfits join them for added security. There’s nothing at all you and me need to do tonight, besidesthis.” He paused. “Unless you want to wait, for some other reason. Then, that’s all you’ve got to say.”
She blew out a long breath.
“Do you want to wait, doll?”
“No, I’m just…” She trailed off. “I need you to understand about the dancing.”
“Alright.”
Mabel nodded and seemed to come to a decision. “After Lew died, I found out that the doctors told him it was coming. I should have realized it myself, because around Thanksgiving he started talking about finding me a husband.”
Boyd’s attention became riveted on her face.
“Up until that point, he’d never cared much about me being married.” Mabel went on, edging into the library. “I think he liked that I was always there for him, right in the house. But all through the holidays, he was dragging home men and introducing them to me.” She shook her head. “Now, I see that he was worried I’d be alone, after he was gone. At the time, I was just annoyed, though. I told him to stop. And he said, ‘Not until I find The One, Mabel Ann.’”
Boyd’s gaze stayed steady, but his heartbeat sped up.
“Well, I was exasperated. I knew he was going to continue on with his husband-hunt, regardless of what I said. So, I told him, ‘I absolutely willnotmeet anymore random candidates. When you find ‘The One’ let me know. Until then, I’m staying out of it.’ That was,” she paused, as if doing some mental math, “just before New Year’s Eve. I’m going to assume he began doing deals with you sometime in early January?”
“January fourth.”
“That makes sense, because Lew stopped bringing up potential husbands, right about then. For weeks, I had peace and quiet.”
“He was talking to me every day, for those weeks. He’d come down to the docks and just hang around for hours.” Boyd still missed hearing that old man’s voice. “I thought he was spying, at first, and I kicked him out of the warehouse. But he kept coming back, so I finally just let him stay.”
“You do have a habit of thinking everyone is a spy.”
“Maybe because your family is prone to spying. Lew was sure there for a bigger purpose. He was testing me. Making sure I was worthy to be your guy.”
“You passed, obviously.”
“He asked me once, I guess in late January, what kind of girl I wanted to marry. I told him a fast and shiny one, just like my favorite cars. I always say something like that.”
