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I’d found a circle of friends here. And I was really enjoying my time with them. Jolene had talked her uncles into letting me shadow them in their kitchen at the Three Little Pigs. Jane had invited me to one of her infamous girls’ movie nights, which guaranteed that I would never look at Jane Austen adaptations ever again.
Sam’s voice behind me drew me out of my musings. “You hollered?”
“Did you like Italian food when you were human? Because this has chicken stock and Marsala wine. The cooking process should have left a result that won’t make you sick.”
“Should?” he said, eyeing the shot glass suspiciously.
Without responding to his concerns, I added, “Just try it.” I pushed the shot glass toward his lips.
“But you said you weren’t sure about it,” he protested.
I took the shot glass out of his hand and pressed it to his lips.
“That’s not bad,” he said.
“No nausea?”
“Can I have another?”
“Try this one,” I said. “It’s like barbecue sauce. Honey, liquid smoke, pork stock, and other by-products you may not want to know about.”
“There’s pig’s blood in here?” he said, wrinkling his nose.
“How is it different from drinking human blood?” I asked. “Besides, if you ate bacon in life, it’s a little hypocritical to turn your nose up at pig’s blood now.”
“Oh,” he said, sighing, after knocking back the shot. “Now I just really miss ribs.”
“My blender cannot handle rib bones,” I told him.
“This,” he informed me, lifting the barbecue sauce, “is awesome. If you could bottle this, you would kick the crap out of Paul Newman and his salad dressings.”
“Paul Newman’s dead,” I reminded him, narrowing my eyes. “Unless there’s something you and the vampire community have to explain to me.”
“That’s not nice,” he said. “You could be the first celebrity chef for vampires, like Rachael Ray or, if Mr. Gamling keeps giving you those dumplin’s, that Paula Deen chick.”
“Thank you for reminding me why being nice to you is never a good idea, you ass.”
He leaned in close, his brown eyes twinkling. “Oh, come on, Tess, I’m sorry. You can be as nice to me and my ass as you want.”
“I’m not touching that one.”
He smirked. “You know you want to.”
“Do you want to go back to cricket warfare again? Because I’m feeling a trip to the bait shop coming on.”
He shuddered, giving me the vampire puppy-dog eyes, which was just disturbing. “Please, ma’am, don’t unleash your biblical plagues of bitchery upon my household.”
I laughed, shoving at his shoulder. He was so close, and my arm was pulled flush against his chest. I closed my eyes, enjoying the vibrations from his laughter traveling from his chest through my fingertips, all the way up my arm to my heart. It was like feeling the pulse he no longer had. I felt my lips part in a smile so wide my cheeks ached. This wouldn’t do. I couldn’t let him see that smile and know what a big part he played in it. I dipped my head, glancing down at the feet so closely arranged we could have been dancing. My forehead brushed against his shoulder. He tucked his fingertips under my chin and tilted my head toward his. His eyes were hooded and dark and stared right through me. His lips looked so soft, even turned into that slightly mocking grin he was giving me. I could stand up on my tippy-toes, or maybe on a chair, and kiss him so easily.
But I didn’t.
Smiling awkwardly, I stepped away and took a deep breath. He wasn’t ready. And no matter how loudly my raging hormones screamed, You moron, do you realize how long it’s been since anyone has gone near your forbidden zones? I couldn’t be the one to decide that he was over his ex-wife.
He was going to have to make the first move. And considering the fact that I was standing immediately lip-adjacent and he didn’t give me a 20 percent lean-in, I didn’t think he was going to be doing that anytime soon.
“So, the barbecue sauce, huh?”
He nodded, taking a step back. “That’s your winner.”
