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Andrea sighed dreamily. “Makeup sex.”
I chewed my lip, tinkering with a blue embossed Specialty Books napkin. “Technically, we don’t make up; it’s more like declaring a ceasefire.”
“Does he make you sign a treaty? Is that your twisted form of foreplay?” Andrea asked, her perfect brow furrowed. I tossed the frayed napkin at her. She snickered and danced out of the way.
“Now I’m curious,” Jane said conspiratorially. “I never had sex with a vampire as a human, and I refuse to hear any details from Little Miss Disturbing Penis Nicknames over there.” She jerked a thumb toward Andrea. “What’s it like?”
“I’m not telling you that!” I exclaimed.
Jane whined, “Oh, come on, be a sport.”
“Why are we friends?”
“Do it, or she’ll talk about her first time with Gabriel again,” Andrea grumbled.
I ducked and hopped off the stool to avoid answering. My eyes landed on a glossy soft-cover book featuring a gaunt, weary-looking vampire sprawled across a Gothic four-poster bed.
“Hey, what’s this?” I asked, pulling a copy from the pile. “The Care and Feeding of Stray Vampires. A comprehensive guide to safe, loving treatment of the injured undead.”
I flipped through the book and found nutrition guides, feeding schedules, an appendix on skin care after minor sunburns. “This would have been useful a week ago,” I muttered.
“Wait, he’s injured? Your vampire is injured? Iris, you didn’t pick this guy up while he was hitchhiking or something, did you?”
“Yes, Jane, I did. In fact, he was holding a sign that said, ‘I need a ride, and I’m probably going to end up draining the moron who stops for me.’ But I figured, hey, what’s the harm?”
“All right, all right,” Jane grumbled. “I’m used to mothering now. I worry about Jamie constantly. Suddenly, I have a whole new respect for Mama.”
Behind her, Andrea gasped. Jane whirled on her, eyes narrowed. “If you ever tell anyone I said that, I will deny it, and then I will tell Dick all of the access codes for the adult channels on your cable box.”
“You wouldn’t.” Andrea hissed. “We’d never see him again.”
I turned to the redhead behind the bar. “Jolene, how do you put up with these two?”
Jolene yawned and turned a page in The Drama of the Half-Were Child. “I’m just here for the comic relief.”
—
Armed with enough books to keep me busy for weeks, I stopped by the Dairy Freeze on the way home to pick up the traditional Tuesday-night cheeseburgers. Joe Brooks, who’d been manning the grill for almost forty years, was sure to put extra grilled onions on Gigi’s, just as she liked it. That, combined with the crispy Tater Tots in the bottom of my grease-spotted brown takeout bag, guaranteed a happy evening at home.
“See you next Tuesday!” I called over my shoulder. Joe Brooks grinned and waved his spatula at me.
I hurried toward my car. I had about twenty minutes to get home before the cheese on the burgers lost ideal elasticity.
“Iris!”
I turned to see Paul jogging across the parking lot from his truck. Damn, there went my guaranteed evening of domestic felicity.
“Hi,” he said cheerfully, kissing my cheek.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, making the expected smacking noise, without any real enthusiasm. Paul hadn’t darkened the Dairy Freeze’s door since he’d gotten sick on a bad chili cheese dog in high school. He was about as likely to try his luck at snake handling as ordering one of Joe Brooks’s specials. Paul’s light hair reflected a corona of sea-green light from the streetlamps. His eyes twinkled as he nodded toward the greasy bag.
“You’re always here on Tuesday nights,” he said. “It’s cheeseburger night. How are you? Are you OK? I’ve been calling.”
“I know,” I said, wincing. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy.”
“With your new guy?” he asked, and although his tone was bright and even, there was a tinge of hurt around his eyes, an unhappy turn to his mouth.
“Sort of,” I said, awkwardly opening the door and shoving the takeout bag onto the passenger seat.
