InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 6: Shameless ❯ Midnight Walk ( Chapter 17 )

~~Chapter 17~~

~Midnight Walk~

 

 

 

“You going to tell me why you've been so quiet this evening?”

 

Pasting on a bright smile, Jillian drew a deep breath and turned around to meet Gavin's troubled gaze. Aqua eyes filled with a sense of apprehension, he stood, leaning against the short, decorative wooden fence. “Have I been?”

 

He nodded slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah . . . you've barely said two words since I got back from running Cody's brood home.”

 

“Just thinking about how cute you were . . . and how patient . . . The girls kept you on that horse all afternoon.”

 

Shaking his head, he broke into a sheepish grin. “Karis wants to change that horse's name to `Marshmallow'.”

 

“Marshmallow? Are you going to?”

 

He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side as his grin widened. “Well, she's only been `Willow' for about seven years . . .”

 

She giggled. “Is that a `no'?”

 

He chuckled. “I'll let them call her Marshmallow . . . how's that?”

 

“Ah, and more hero points for you.”

 

“How many does that make?”

 

“Too many to count.”

 

“And what are these hero points good for?”

 

Her smile widened, and she stood up, brushing off her skirt and wandering over to wrap her arms around his waist. “Whatever you want them to be good for,” she replied, resting her cheek against his shoulder for a long moment.

 

She half expected him to push her away. Though he didn't mind when she hugged him, it always seemed that the hugs ended far sooner than she wanted. To her surprise, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her just a little closer as he heaved a long, slow sigh. “You're really not going to tell me what's bothering you, are you?” he asked quietly.

 

“Nothing's bothering me; I swear,” she insisted with a little smile as she closed her eyes and savored the feel of Gavin's body so close to hers.

 

He sighed but didn't argue with her. “Seemed like you made another friend,” he commented. She could hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Sherry, you mean? I really like her . . . but I daresay that the girls are trying to steal you away from me.”

 

He chuckled. “Yeah, okay . . .”

 

Content enough just to be near him, she pushed aside the nagging feeling of foreboding; a whisper in her heart that told her that this one moment wouldn't last nearly long enough for her. “You think I'm joking,” she murmured.

 

He snorted and changed the subject. “In any case, I'm glad you had a good time today.”

 

“Cody and Sherry . . . they're really cute together, don't you think?”

 

Gavin smiled. “I suppose.”

 

“Almost as cute as you and the girls . . . I didn't think you'd ever get them off the horse.”

 

He made a show of grimacing though his smile remained intact. “Yeah . . . I didn't think so, either. Bet they sleep really well tonight.”

 

She laughed at the hint of smugness in Gavin's tone. “You did all that on purpose?”

 

“No . . . but I figure it's probably an added bonus. They sure are cute, though . . .”

 

Jillian snorted playfully. “Are you saying I have something to worry about?”

 

“I've only got one Jilli,” he mumbled.

 

She leaned away in time to see the tell-tale blush staining his cheeks. Still, he didn't let go, and she certainly wasn't going to remind him that he was still holding onto her . . . “I'll always be your Jilli,” she whispered. Reaching up to touch his cheek, she caught her breath as his gaze slowly shifted to meet hers. Eyes darkening to a hazy shade of azure, he stared at her as though he were trying to read her mind. “Gavin . . .”

 

His kiss came quickly, descending on her before she could think, before she could understand just what was going on. Hesitant, gentle, his muscles were tense under her fingertips. The tension in his kiss eased slowly. The awkwardness in the gesture touched her somewhere deep inside. The sweetness of his lips against hers sent a shiver down her spine; a subtle reverberation that swelled in her chest. He let go of her waist to bring one hand up, sinking his fingers into her hair as she threaded her arms around his neck, holding him close, reveling in the strength of him that enveloped her. He smelled like sun-dried grass, like the calm before a storm. Her thoughts skittered away from her before she had a chance to collect them, and she sighed: clinging to him, unwilling to let him go . . .

 

Delicious tremors churned in her belly. Gavin uttered a low groan when she flicked her tongue out to caress his bottom lip. There was something entirely magical in his kiss; emotion that he didn't try to hide. As clumsy and almost awkward as it was, the sweetness of it dispelled the tentativeness in his actions. He held onto her as she clung to him; as the birds in the trees sang their song to welcome the descending evening. He felt so perfect to her; he was everything she'd ever wanted, and in those moments, in the stillness, she felt as though nothing in the world could ever touch her: just Gavin—just him—just as it had always been . . .

 

Seconds ticked away unmarked. The safety of his arms around her was enough—more than enough—to shelter her. His lips pressed against hers, danced over hers in a gentle caress. His indecision seemed to melt away, and Jillian sighed happily, content in the protection he offered her; lost in the surge of pure sensation . . .

 

Whimpering quietly when he pulled back, Jillian buried her face against his chest, breathing ragged, harsh in her own ears as his heart thundered beneath her cheek. He cleared his throat but didn't speak. She laughed unsteadily when he kissed her forehead. “It's, uh, s-starting to c-cool off,” he stammered. “You ready to go inside?”

 

“In a minute,” she replied, snuggling a little further under his chin.

 

He sighed. She supposed it was his way of protesting. He didn't try to shove her away, though, and that, in her mind, was some progress. “You rented a couple movies, didn't you?” he reminded her.

 

“Yes, I did,” she said, stifling a sigh. He was trying to get her to let go, she knew. After one last moment, she did. It was enough for her that he'd given in on some level. `He's coming around,' she decided with a self-satisfied little grin. `Soon, Gavvie . . .'

 

“So what did you rent?” he asked as she turned away and started back toward the patio.

 

“Stealing Heaven,” she replied.

 

He groaned. “The castration movie?”

 

“No . . . the story of Abelard and Heloise,” she retorted.

 

“Yeah . . . the castration movie . . .” he reiterated.

 

“Yes, well, you can actually watch it with me this time,” she informed him.

 

“I watch it with you every time,” he grumbled.

 

“Hmm, you start to watch it with me every time,” she allowed. “Then you end up snoring on the sofa.”

 

He quirked an eyebrow at her contention. “I don't snore.”

 

“It's okay, Gavvie,” she assured him, pausing long enough to pat his cheek in mock consolation. “You do, but I still love you.”

 

He blushed. She knew he would. “You're not really going to make me watch that movie, are you? It's like . . . a million years old.”

 

“It isn't a million years old,” she chided. “It was filmed back in 1988.”

 

“Close enough,” he grumbled as he followed her into the house. “Almost a hundred years old.”

 

“Do I gripe about your Star Wars movies? No, I don't think I do, and they were made earlier than that, so stop complaining, will you?”

 

“That's completely different,” he remarked as he veered off toward the kitchen to get a soda.

 

“How do you figure?”

 

His snort drifted back to her, and she smiled as she knelt before the video receiver and keyed in the access code for the movies she'd rented for the week. She'd figured that the local rental store had the old fashioned DVDs. It turned out that they'd recently switched over to the more standard digital media system. All one had to do was pay for the movies one wanted to rent and give them the land line telephone number. The movies were accessed through a regular satellite television receiver after punching in the ten digit numerical code, and the first day of the actual rental term—in this case, a week—didn't activate until one entered the access code.

 

“George Lucas was a genius—well ahead of his time. I doubt you can say the same about whoever directed Stealing Heaven—and there's no castration in it, either.”

 

Laughing at his affected shudder, Jillian shook her head at his lack of romantic thought. “Timeless love stories don't need directorial genius,” she informed him. “Now be quiet and hurry up . . . the movie is starting.”

 

Stomping back into the living room with a soda in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other, Gavin sat down and handed Jillian the glass before wrinkling his nose and glancing around the room. “Grab the geek mag, and I'll hurt you,” she stated mildly enough when his gaze lit on the Computers Monthly magazine on the chair across the room.

 

“But I'd stay awake,” he told her. She bit her lip to keep from laughing outright at the pleading tone in his voice.

 

“You'll stay awake anyway, Gavvie,” she countered.

 

“I'll try to stay awake,” he grumbled then sighed.

 

“Keep trying, big boy. I'm not feeling sorry for you.”

 

“Didn't figure you did,” he admitted. “I let you sleep through Star Wars.”

 

“But I've seen them all and can recite most of the lines by heart,” she shot back.

 

“I'd really rather not see the guy lose his parts for falling in love with some wack-o's niece.”

 

Jillian laughed. “Just once, Gavin Jamison.”

 

He sighed again. “All-l-l ri-i-i-ight.”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Jillian sniffled and wiped her tear-dampened cheeks as the end credits rolled over the television screen. That movie never failed to make her cry. The ending seemed sad, and yet it wasn't. It was one of Gin's favorite movies, and Jillian loved it, too. Her father had much the same reaction as Gavin, though, and that had always amused her. One of her favorite memories was lying in bed between her parents while they watched movies—or at least while Gin watched movies. Cain was given more to the role of heckler during the movies than anything else, and Stealing Heaven was one of the movies that Cain dearly loved to add his warped brand of commentary to . . .

 

Reaching forward to nab the remote, Jillian keyed in the access number for the movie Gavin had picked out. She didn't know anything about it, but judging from the title, alone, she wasn't so sure she wanted to, either: Parallel Atomizer. It was bound to be a sci-fi flick, and probably a cheesy one, at that . . .

 

Shaking her head, she shook his shoulder to wake him up. He'd tried to stay awake; she had to give him that. Maybe it was something about the male psyche, because her brothers were about the same when faced with an obvious `chick flick'. He'd managed to stay awake through the Christmas Eve scene, and that was something. Normally Gavin was entirely incoherent ten minutes into the movie.

 

“Uh? Wha . . .? Jilli?” Gavin mumbled as he jerked upright and wildly glanced around.

 

“Your movie is about to start, sleepy-head,” she said with a smile.

 

He grimaced when he noticed the unnatural brightness in her eyes. “Why do you have to watch movies that make you cry?” he grumbled, pulling her into his lap and tucking her head under his chin.

 

“It's a beautiful story,” she insisted, sniffling again as fresh moisture gathered. Just thinking about the movie that soon after watching it had the ability to draw tears, she supposed.

 

He sighed. “I'll never, ever, ever understand you women.”

 

“That's okay,” she murmured, smiling as she wiped her cheeks. “You don't have to.”

 

Rubbing her back with a clumsy hand, Gavin slowly shook his head. “This is supposed to be a decent movie,” he told her.

 

“It looks kind of silly.”

 

Grimacing as a giant ant-like alien-thing cantered across the screen, Gavin let out a deep breath. “Okay, yeah . . . that looks bad . . . They built a mechanical alien for the movie for the sake of realism, or so I read. They thought that they'd test out that new hydro-anamorphic technology, but . . . Maybe they should have stuck with CGI, instead . . .”

 

Jillian didn't understand half of what he'd said, but she nodded anyway, knowing that he was trying to distract her from crying. “Do you think Sherry will have the baby soon?” she asked abruptly.

 

“Oh . . . uh, probably . . . She's as big as a house. I don't think she could get much bigger and still be able to move.”

 

“Gavin Ryan Jamison!” she chided, sitting up straight and smacking Gavin's arm playfully. “You take that back!”

 

Gavin dragged his eyes off the movie long enough to pin her with a goofy grin. “Cody said that it'd probably be simpler just to roll her around.”

 

“You're both awful!” she giggled.

 

“I don't know,” he drawled. “She's probably bigger around than she is tall.”

 

“Ga-vin!”

 

His laughter preempted any rebuttal he could have made. Jillian shook her head and crawled off his lap, trying her best to look completely stern but failing miserably when she broke into a smile. There was just something about his laughter that was entirely infectious . . .

 

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, looking anything but contrite.

 

Jillian giggled. “You're not.”

 

“No, really . . . I am.” He coughed.

 

“How do you suppose it feels to be pregnant?” she ventured, grabbing a throw pillow and wrapping her arms around it.

 

That sobered him up quickly enough. “No idea . . . can't say I've ever been pregnant.”

 

Jillian rolled her eyes. “Of course you haven't! Belle said that it was amazing, but I remember Mama said that Aunt Nezumi was always horribly sick . . .”

 

He looked completely ill at ease, and he shrugged off-handedly as he turned his attention back to the movie again. “Never really asked about it, myself,” he mumbled.

 

“I want babies,” Jillian went on, more to herself than to Gavin. “Lots of babies . . . twenty, at least . . .”

 

Breaking into a fit of coughing, Gavin shook his head when Jillian shot him an odd look and leaned forward to thump his back. “Twenty babies?”

 

“Or more.”

 

He swallowed hard. “More?”

 

“Sure.”

 

He snorted. “You'll have to write their names down and carry it around with you,” he grumbled, “or get them tattooed on your hand.”

 

She tossed the pillow at him. “Very funny, Gavvie,” she intoned. “There's nothing wrong with wanting lots of babies.”

 

“You'd better marry a millionaire.”

 

“Well, you know, making the babies is pretty nice—or so I've heard.”

 

The blush that stained his cheeks was immediate and intense. Jillian laughed softly. “Yeah, this movie stinks,” he grumbled, staring doggedly at the plasma screen television.

 

Jillian leaned forward, crawling closer to Gavin. “You want to give it a try?” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear.

 

He shivered, body stiffening as he clenched his fists and darted a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. “T-t-try wh-what?” he choked out.

 

She laughed huskily, leaning in even closer. “We could practice making babies,” she ventured.

 

He swallowed hard. “Uh . . .”

 

“Come on, Gavvie . . . be my mate? The father of my twenty or more babies?”

 

“W-wh-what . . .?”

 

Heaving a sigh, she sat back on her haunches and slowly shook her head. “All right,” she allowed. “You win . . . for now.”

 

He grimaced, slumping forward, elbows on knees to glower at his hands. “Jilli . . .”

 

Twisting her fingers in a distracted sort of way, she watched him for a moment. He looked as though he were trying to figure out how to tell her just what was on his mind. Wincing—how was it that she knew what he wanted to say? She drew a deep breath and mentally braced herself.

 

“Th-that . . . kiss . . .” he began slowly, face reddening while he carefully avoided looking at her. “It shouldn't have happened.” He cleared his throat. “I'm . . . sorry . . .”

 

She closed her eyes. She'd figured it was something like that. Biting back the pain his words inspired, Jillian managed what she hoped was a bright smile. She felt it trembling on her lips. “Of course,” she forced herself to say, inflicting a light tone in her voice that she just wasn't feeling. “Don't be sorry.”

 

He saw right through her bravado. With a grimace, he raked his hands over his face. “W-w-we aren't mates,” he said quietly. “You know it, and I know it, too. I-it's not funny anymore, Jillian. It stopped being funny a long time ago.”

 

The finality in his voice couldn't be ignored. It cut her deep, hit her hard. She had to swallow a few times to force the fist-sized lump back down, and she blinked quickly as she stumbled to her feet. The house seemed to be closing in on her, and she desperately needed to escape. Summoning all the dignity she could muster—it wasn't much, considering—she straightened her back and lifted her chin, jaw clenched tightly as she angrily told herself not to cry.

 

For once, he didn't try to stop her as she reached for the door handle. “Where you going, Jilli?” he asked quietly.

 

Flinching at the undertones of concern in his voice, she paused for a moment before pushing the sliding door open. “For a walk, Gavin. I . . . I just want to be alone.”

 

“Don't go far,” he told her. “It's getting pretty late.”

 

She didn't answer him as she stepped outside. A brisk wind blew off the mountains, and she shivered, rubbing her bare arms as she wandered toward the trees . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

`Bastard . . .'

 

Gavin winced, staring out the glass doors into the night; looking for Jillian; trying to discern just where she'd gone.

 

`You damn bastard . . .'

 

Watching her slip out the door . . . why did it remind him of the last time she'd disappeared from his life?

 

`What was I supposed to do?' he bit out viciously. `I don't think she knows what she wants . . . she certainly hasn't ever needed me . . .'

 

`And I'm telling you that maybe she does . . . maybe—just maybe—she's serious. Have you stopped to think about that, Gavin?'

 

Letting his forehead fall against the cold pane of glass, he sighed. She'd said it so many times over the years. The first time she'd said it was the evening after he'd caught her when she'd fallen out of the tree. She was four years old then. Four . . .

 

`It's just a habit for her to say it. She doesn't mean it. How could she mean it?' Shaking his head, he pushed himself away from the door and slowly looked around the living room. A glass vase stood in the center of the coffee table. Overflowing with fresh cut flowers that she'd found in the yard and forest, she'd arranged them in a simple display—a woman's touch that the house hadn't felt in the years since his grandmother's death . . . An antique lace doily that had been carefully washed and starched adored the table by the front door . . . a simple tatted thread runner tumbling off the sides of the rough river rock mantle over the fireplace . . . things that Jillian had found stuffed in bags in closets and drawers . . . things that added a gentle touch to the rustic place . . . Things as classic and beautiful as Jillian, herself, was . . .

 

`Stop blaming it all on Jillian, will you? It's not the truth, and you know it! Just admit what you know is true: you're the one who can't deal with any of it. You're the one who's always pushed her away.'

 

`I . . . haven't . . . I . . .'

 

`Yeah, you wanted to marry her. If you'd be honest with yourself, you'd know that's all you've ever really wanted.'

 

To be with Jillian . . . Gavin flinched, pushing himself away from the door and shuffling toward the stairs. Yes, it was all he'd ever wanted, and for a time, he'd believed that maybe she'd wanted that, too.

 

Why had she disappeared? Walked away from him for so very long? The nearly four years that they were apart the second time . . . the memory of that time was enough to stop Gavin dead in his tracks. Leaning against the wall, he groaned softly. The desperation he'd felt back then was still as fresh and close as ever. How many nights had he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling while he wondered just what she was doing? Was she thinking about him? Did she ever think about him? Did she have any idea how badly he missed her?

 

And why did it feel like it was happening all over again? The forced smiles, the uncertainty in her gaze . . . the unhappiness he'd sensed . . . it was all coming back again, wasn't it? Her restlessness . . . her boredom . . . and her stubborn insistence that everything was just fine . . .

 

He didn't really think about what he was doing. Pushing open the closet, thumping around for the one loose floorboard . . . It wasn't until he was sitting on the foot of the bed with the black velvet box nestled in his hand that he blinked and sighed, staring at the miserable thing as though it possessed a life all its own.

 

The quarter-carat diamond reflected the pale moonlight filtering through the window, casting a hundred little stars on the ceiling as the light refracted off the stone. It was a good thing that he'd never given the ring to her, wasn't it? That's what he'd told himself that summer, when he'd retreated to the ranch after college graduation. Better to figure it out before it was too late, right?

 

`Right . . .'

 

Snapping the lid of the ring box closed, Gavin tried not to think about what could have been. It was impossible. He'd been too close to her for far too long. To be honest, he wasn't sure what he'd do if Jillian walked away from him again, but she . . . She was the important one. She was the one who mattered. He'd do whatever he had to do to keep her safe, to make her happy. Thing was, he knew deep down that no matter what she said, she'd never, ever be truly happy with him . . .

 

Pushing himself to his feet, he paused long enough to slip the ring box back into the hiding place in the closet. Better for it to remain there forever, he supposed, hidden away with the rest of the things that he'd never be able to tell her.

 

Striding through the empty house and out the glass doors, Gavin picked up Jillian's scent easily enough. He could only hope she'd had enough time to herself because he didn't like leaving her alone. The ranch hands never ventured into the forest, which was the only reason that he had let her go by herself. Stuffing his hands into his pockets as he tracked her, he sighed. `It's better this way,' he told himself yet again. `She's unhappy now, but she'd be miserable later . . .'

 

And that kiss . . .

 

That single kiss was enough to wring a long-suffering moan from the depths of him. He wasn't sure how it had happened. It must have had something to do with the look in Jillian's eyes. She'd seemed so content to be near him, and somehow he'd lost control of his powers of reason. For that one moment, it was simple to believe that she wanted to be with him. It was a little too easy to let himself be lost in her, wasn't it?

 

Maybe if he knew exactly why she'd left him before—maybe if he could understand the things that had driven her away . . . Had she really grown bored of being with him? How often had he wondered about that before? The trouble was, there wasn't a simple answer, either. As often as he'd thought it over, he'd never understood what had made her run away. Jillian never had been one to carry a grudge, even when she wanted to, and yet she'd avoided him for nearly four long years . . .

 

Wandering through the trees in the forest, he blinked suddenly when he stepped into the small clearing. A large pond stretched out before him. He'd known it was there, certainly. Off to the right, he could hear the rush of flowing water as liquid coursed over the small waterfall from the higher ground. It shouldn't have surprised him—maybe he shouldn't have looked—and yet he gasped sharply when he spotted her, floating on her back in the cold pond. In the pale moonlight, he could see the expanse of her skin glowing above the surface of the water.

 

He thought she had her eyes closed but was too far away to tell for sure, but even across the distance, he could see the gentle rise of her hips, the upturned peaks of her breasts. Stifling a ragged groan, he forced his gaze away. It didn't matter that he knew—knew—that she wasn't skinny-dipping for his benefit, just as he knew that the reason she was swimming in the middle of the night had nothing at all to do with trying to annoy or upset him. It soothed her. It always had. Whenever she was overly upset about something, he invariably would find her swimming. She was a water-youkai, after all. Being in water completely naked . . . it was all relative in her mind. In all the years he'd known her, she'd never once condescended to wearing a bathing suit when she went swimming, and she hated whenever he'd try to wear one. When they were pups, it wasn't such a big deal. Stealing a glance at her as the wash of guilt warred with the need to appreciate how truly beautiful she really was, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from whining.

 

It was safe to say that she wasn't a pup anymore, and damn it, neither was he . . .

 

It took several agonizing minutes for him to regain control over his body. Careful to keep his gaze averted, Gavin stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and stepped over to the water's edge. “It's getting late, Jilli . . .” he called.

 

She didn't answer him right away though he didn't doubt for a moment that she knew very well that he was there. He heard the rhythmic splash and gurgle as she swam a little longer. “You didn't need to come after me,” she finally said, her voice taking on a slight echo. There was no anger, no animosity, no hurt in her tone. In fact, there was no emotion at all, really.

 

He winced. “Come on . . . I'll make you hot cocoa,” he offered.

 

“Why don't you swim with me?” she countered.

 

He shot her a glance before he could think better of it. Luckily for him, she was submerged up to her shoulders. “I don't think so,” he remarked in what he hoped was a nonchalant fashion.

 

She sighed. “Yeah . . . you're too old to play anymore, aren't you?”

 

“It isn't . . . I . . . uh . . . Jilli . . . come on. You're normally in bed by now.”

 

She didn't answer, but she started to swim toward the shore. His head snapped to the side as she started to rise. The last thing he wanted or needed to see was the way the water sluiced down her body . . .

 

Turning around to glare at the forest, he tapped his foot impatiently as he willed himself not to blush.

 

“Guess I'm just not tired,” she admitted. Her voice came from directly beside him, and he glanced over to see her sitting on the ground with her legs drawn up against her chest. Still completely naked, of course, but everything he shouldn't see was covered or veiled well enough in shadows.

 

With a sigh, he unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off, draping it around her shoulders before he knelt down beside her. “I didn't mean to upset you,” he muttered.

 

“I know,” she said.

 

“It's just . . . I can't . . .” He drew a deep breath then exhaled in a loud gust. “You'd hate being my mate,” he told her. “I'm boring, remember?”

 

“I've never thought that.”

 

“Sure, you have,” he replied. “It's okay. Don't worry about it.”

 

She stared at him for a moment. He couldn't discern the expression in her eyes in the darkness. “Gavin?”

 

“Hmm?” he asked, skimming a rock over the surface of the pond. It skipped five times then sank. He scanned the pebbly shore for another good, flat stone.

 

“I was thinking . . .”

 

“Yeah?”

 

She nodded, pulling his shirt a little closer around her shoulders and resting her chin on her knees. “Is it because I'm not very smart?”

 

“What?”

 

She shrugged. “I mean, you're smart, so it stands to reason you'd want a woman who was as smart as you are, and I tried in school . . . I really did . . .”

 

“Don't put yourself down,” he growled, his voice sharper than he intended. “I mean it.”

 

Jillian sighed. “It's all right, but . . . but you know, I guess I can understand, if that's your reason.”

 

“My . . . reason . . .?”

 

She sat up a little straighter, pushing her arms through the sleeves of his shirt before reaching for the white cotton panties she'd left on the grass in the pile of her clothing. He whipped his face to the side as she pulled on the panties and her little jeans shorts. “You might well be smarter than I am, Gavin, but there is one thing that you've never been able to do.”

 

“What's that?”

 

She laughed. “You've never been able to beat me. Last one back is a rotten egg!”

 

Gavin couldn't even get to his feet before Jillian disappeared into the trees. Heaving a heavy sigh, he retrieved her bra and tank top before finally breaking into a wry smile. It was typical Jillian to start a race when he wasn't expecting it.

 

And it was typical Gavin to let her win every single time . . .

 

 

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A/N:

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Reviewers

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OROsan0677:

Man, Gavin is not going to be happy at all when he finds out this mysterious guy has been in his apartment. Hmm, I wonder what he'll do. I was wondering, would you mind praying for my sister? She's a high risk pregnancy and even though she feels fine, her blood pressure isn't. Thank you if you can! It means a lot!

 

Now, ordinarily, I wouldn't do this, but I have a soft spot for pregnant women, especially ones who are high risk (I was … twice). General note: I do not want reviews for this, and any reviews left for just this issue will be removed!I simply wanted to ask that whoever reads this takes a moment to wish for the best for the mother-to-be! Thanks, you all, and OROsan, you and your sister are in my thoughts and prayers!

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MMorg

artemiswaterdragon ------ vvkimbo07 ------ Usagiseren05 ------ nish04

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Forum Reviews

Kamackie ------ TenshiKaika ------ cutechick18 ------ My Own Self ------ OROsan0677 ----- ErinBerin ------ psyco_chick32 ------ RogueDestiny ------ Piett

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Final Thought fromJillian:

I really don't understand him …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Shameless): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~