Page 5 of On the Menu

“I’m thinking of leaving that job. Looking for another,” he choked out, pretending to cough on too big a bite.

The smell began to fade at once. “Really? You are?”

“Unless you fancy going to bars with me every night of the week,” he offered.

Her smile was pure sunlight, and the dark hollows in him couldn’t hide from the light. “Stop,” she said, blushing. “We just met. No guy gives up a job for a girl he met at a bar two days ago.”

“Three. And he might, if it was the right girl.”

“I take night classes three nights a week,” she reminded him.

“You won’t always,” Stray countered, then realized what it meant. He wanted to be with her, even after she had finished her degree. Years later, maybe.

Because Liam warned you that you might find something real to keep you fed—and then how can you walk away from that?

“I like the town. I have a friend here. It’s very healthy here, too.”

He meant the fact that the monsters in Pine Ridge had aligned themselves with love and goodness—and yes, that was boring as heck, but if this place was bad and evil, and monsters were pillaging and attacking, then Cara wouldn’t be safe.

And that made him feel very, very dangerous. “You wouldn’t mind if I lived nearby, would you?” he risked.

Cara’s twinkling eyes put pure delight in his veins. “It’s a free country,” she shrugged, but looked far too pleased when she said it.

“Bruce called. He wants to come over and pick up some things he left at my place.”

“Did he acknowledge what a colossal ass he is?” Stray held up a pumpkin at the Onyx Farm Market. This wasn’t for carving. It was for baking. Cara wanted to learn to bake.

He wanted to watch. And taste. And be in her space, in her home, in her kitchen, surrounded by her scent, and close to her bed.

“Um. No. He just said he left a pair of sneakers and his gym bag there one night.”

He’d no idea why that sent insides roiling.

‘Cause the bastard will make her remember how he had eyes for Blonde and Big Tits instead of her, and she’ll get that small, heartbroken look again, and everything will stink like rotting pilchards, and I’ll be in the middle of it.

“Does he know about you and me?”

Sadness, irritation, and memories swamped her as the pumpkin plopped into the little wagon-like cart. The fresh fall air turned burnt and sour.

“No. I mean, why would he? He didn’t bother to call until today, even after I left with someone else—and I guess that means he spent the weekend with someone else, too.”

“But you know what?” Stray rapidly piled random produce into the cart and pulled her by the wrist, heading to the check-out stand. “Bet you a pie that the man you left with will be with you for a long, long time. Let’s see if Miss Beer Stein shows up with him, or if he mentions her.”

“I don’t want him to mention her,” she hissed, running to keep up with him. “If he does, it’ll be obvious that he picked her over me.”

Stray bit his tongue, then stopped, spun her, and kissed her hard on the mouth. “I picked you over every other woman on the planet,” he snarled, and with a thud inside his heart that echoed in his head, he understood that it was true. It wasn’t only a ploy.

And he wasn’t sure how to feel about that, especially since it was clear Cara might not feel the same.

Except that the heavenly summer-fruit smell assaulted him, and it wasn’t just from the harvested produce around him. Stray inhaled sharply. “What are you thinking about?” He hoped he didn’t sound too eager. He had to know what made her feel this way, smell that way— not a full-blown waft of joy, but enough to make his nose twitch. Was it thinking about him staying? Picking her? Their kiss?

Or, God forbid, seeing Bruce again, and trying to win him back? Maybe he wasn’t good at kissing. He hadn’t really cared about his technique in the last few dozen decades.

Cara looked at him with a dizzy smile. “Wow,” she whispered. “I... Um... What was the question?”

“What are you thinking about?” He’d never asked before. Stray knew. He knew he was the one filling the minds of his victims, invading their thoughts, their slumbers, their half-awake, half-drunk stupors, a passionate viper who bit to suck out souls, not inject his venom.

And now?