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I cleared my throat, breaking contact with the blue orbs of sexy evil. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t be starting the car right now?”
He let his eyes narrow at the offending piece of paper on my dashboard.
I snatched it up. “What, this?”
His lip curled back into a grimace. “Yes, Miss Puckett. What is that?”
“That would be a hamburger wrapper.”
“Yes,” he purred. “And what do we know about hamburger wrappers?”
“Their contents are meaty and delicious?”
His lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh but couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Litter, Miss Puckett. The car is to be free of litter.”
“Right, sorry,” I said, stuffing the offending paper into a paper sack. “Vampires have an aversion to human food, right? It smells spoiled to you?”
“No, I dislike the idea of riding around with your lunch leftovers for the rest of the evening.” He sniffed. I started the car and pulled onto the shoulder. He nodded slightly. “But yes, vampires lack the enzymes to digest solids, so our bodies instinctively reject human food. The smell is unappetizing. And if we ate so much as a slice of bread, violent vomiting would follow.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate, given our next stop.”
I CAN SEE YOUR HEADLIGHTS
4
Pete’s Diner was bright and cheerfully decorated in insistently nostalgic aquas and pinks. I sat at the booth, considering my menu options, while Mr. Sutherland glowered at our general surroundings. A less mature part of myself wanted to order something really pungent, such as olive loaf and onion rings. But I chose considerately, turkey on whole wheat and an iced tea.
Mr. Sutherland looked as out of place as I did when I visited my parents’ law firm. He ordered a coffee so he wouldn’t seem conspicuous and sat ramrod-straight against the cozy booth seat. He was staring me down, measuring me, recording little details, and he meticulously polished his silverware with his napkin. I did my best not to fidget or make origami out of the straw wrappers.
“I know that we haven’t had an ideal travel experience so far,” I admitted in an effort to break the silence. “Honestly, I’m not trying to annoy you. At this point, all I can promise is that I’m not intentionally trying to do the things that make you angry … anymore.”
“I am overwhelmed in the face of your generosity.” From the kitchen, I heard the hiss of onions hitting the grill. Mr. Sutherland shuddered as the sharp smell rippled through the air, adding another layer to the symphony of scents already hanging over the diner.
“You’re the one who scheduled my meal breaks,” I reminded him without my usual sarcasm. “It’s not my fault you did it by location instead of time.”
“Yes, but I thought we would be farther along the road by now. I assumed that you would eat dinner before I woke,” he said, eyeing a passing tray full of chili specials as if the secret ingredient was ebola virus.
“Well, we would be running on time if I hadn’t had to stop at the police station this morning. Contingencies, Mr. Sutherland. They happen.”
“Hmmph.” He stirred the coffee, for lack of something to do with his hands, and muttered something like “With you, they do.”
Mr. Sutherland had been beyond twitchy from the moment we walked into the diner. He was uncomfortable and not just in the “I’m around a large group of humans for the first time in decades” sort of way. The presence of each additional person seemed to cause him pain.
“You didn’t have to come in here with me,” I said, trying to keep my tone kind. “You could have waited outside, stretched your legs a bit. It can’t be comfortable being cooped up in that cubby.”
He closed his eyes as a family of five passed by, their rambunctious teens hip-checking and elbowing one another for prime booth space. While his eyes were closed, I whipped out my camera and pulled off a few quick shots of the family being generally rowdy and obnoxious to one another. In the frame, they looked loving, happy, comfortable together. It made my heart ache a little.
And since Mr. Sutherland’s eyes were still closed, his lashes resting on his high cheekbones, I took a few shots of him, too.
I had my reasons.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I’ll be fine in a few minutes. It’s just an adjustment. Besides, the last time we separated, we were set upon by rednecks.”
“Are you afraid for my safety or yours?” I asked, smirking at him.
“I’m not sure. I do hope Miss Scanlon wasn’t too upset about the trouble last night,” he said, watching me carefully. “I would hate for the incident to reflect poorly on your performance record.”
