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“Not my finest moment,” he admitted, running his fingers through his unruly hair. His mouth formed a slanted, rueful grin. “Lindy, of course, insisted I was too dangerous to be around normal people. Called her family, our friends, my friends here in town, to ‘warn’ them about my new nature and how fast I could turn on humans. Damn near ruined the life I’d built here, but she was scared and confused, and I guess I can’t blame her.”
I muttered, “I can.” He frowned at me, making me shrug. “I’m a grudge holder.”
“She’s puttin’ the house on the market on October 28,” he said, his voice toneless and resigned. “All the property went to her when I died. But thanks to the Council’s intervention, I got to stay here, and she had to return the holdings for my construction business—the business account, the tools, equipment, and such—and I have until October 28 to buy her out of the house. I’ve been working a little, doing nighttime projects for one of our neighbors, Mr. Calix. He’s added a fence, an outbuilding, and a finished basement to his house in the last few months. I think he’s just doin’ it because he’s tryin’ to help me out, but he’s too nice to say anythin’ about it. It hasn’t been enough to save what I need.”
I muttered, “That explains why the drills didn’t start until the wee hours some nights.”
“I had to squeeze annoyin’ you in where I could,” he admitted, grinning sheepishly. “I am sorry you got pulled into this mess. Lindy was using you, leasin’ the house to you while I was still here. She was countin’ on something called the Vampire Squatters’ Act. Right after the Comin’ Out, human mortgage companies and landlords got tired of newly turned vampires just walking away from their homes, figurin’ that mortgages and leases didn’t apply to them anymore. So the government declared that any vampire who left their property for more than thirty-two days had abandoned it.
“She must have a buyer lined up already. If I raise the money before the deadline, she has to sell me the house. That’s why she rented it. She thought if some tenant annoyed me enough, I would move out for the length of the lease, and the house would be considered abandoned to her. She’d be free to sell it without giving me a dime.”
“So I was her backup plan? I think that hurts my feelings,” I mumbled, my face flushing hot with shame. No wonder Sam had put up such a fight against leaving, despite my campaign against him. I hated the idea that I’d been helping Lindy, albeit unwittingly, try to drive Sam away from this place. The manipulative little wench would pay for that.
“I’m really sorry about the crickets,” I said, my voice soft. “And the ghost chili. And gluing your car keys to the counter. Well, I’m pretty sure you deserved the chili thing, but—this is not how a normal person behaves. I’m sorry. I can’t leave, but I don’t want to be this crazy wok-swinging whackaloon anymore. If we could just find a way to share the house for just a little while longer, I swear I won’t attack you again. I’m supposed to be resting, not plotting.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore, either. I’m afraid we’re going to escalate to the point where one of us is left with a permanent limp,” he said. “And to my everlastin’ shame, between the two of us, your pranks seem to be more effective, so I’m all for a ceasefire.”
“It’s not even that I don’t like you,” I said, wiping at my dripping nose with my sleeve just as Sam tried to hand me a red bandanna from his back pocket. “There’s nothing specific about you not to like. Other than your mere presence.
“I will stay out of the basement,” I swore. “If you agree to stay away from my cookware.”
“Agreed,” he said, patting my shoulder again. “We’re goin’ to be OK. When I’m not actively tryin’ to get rid of someone, I’m actually a very easygoin’ roommate.”
“Oh, sure, you’re a charmer.” I lifted my head and looked directly at him for the first time since the conversation started. It amazed me that I could move it so easily. My neck felt as if it had had a bowling ball lifted off it.
“If we’re going to make an honest go of this, we’re going to have to abide by some rules.”
“More rules? I’ve already agreed not to attack you with kitchen implements!” I exclaimed, feigning indignation.
He gave me a withering, and somehow incredibly sexy, glare.
“Such as?” I asked.
“I stay out of your room,” he said. “And you stay out of mine.”
“Like I wanted to visit your lair.” I snorted.
“I think a part of you is a little curious about it,” he said, grinning cheekily.
“I’m a little curious about tattoos,” I shot back. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to get a tramp stamp.”
“I think you’d look hot with a tramp stamp,” he said, tilting his head and giving me a long, speculative look that made a shiver ripple up my spine. “A cute little kitten… wavin’ a very sharp knife.”
“Funny,” I retorted. “And on that note, I promise that I won’t threaten you with my knives anymore. No more hitting you with pans. No more tainting your blood with evil pepper juice. If you’re civil to me, I’m civil to you. It’s what I should have said in the first place.”
“Agreed. And I will stop callin’ you a psycho.”
“You called me a psycho?”
He shrugged. “Not to your face.” He took a long pull from the bottle of synthetic blood, the faintest lines of a grimace crinkling the corners of his mouth.
“Not as good as the real thing?” I asked.
His brows drew up in surprise. “You offering?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head emphatically. “No, no, no. I’m just curious about what that tastes like to you. What would make it taste better, that sort of thing. I’m trying to enter this cooking contest for vampires—”
“The Bloody Bake-Off?”
