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“It’s OK, I like it,” I said. “Southern Comforts has quite the ring to it. And it fits with the theme I’d planned.” Sam sipped his drink, looking pleased, so I added, “Of course, you’re going to have to be my guinea pig.”
He chuckled, then straightened his expression into a frown. “I never agreed to that.”
“I think you’ll be willing to renegotiate,” I said, arching my eyebrows into a supervillain expression. “Or I will lace every bottle of blood in that gift basket with ghost chili oil.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You are the most twisted, evil little thing.”
“Why does that sound all sexy when he says it?” Zeb asked his wife.
Shaking her head, Jolene raised her cup of beer in a toast. “Here’s to your first Burley Days.”
“So far, it hasn’t sucked,” I added, clinking my cup against hers. I caught Sam’s eye before repeating the gesture against his blood bottle. “To ceasefires.”
Sam’s lips quirked into a grin. “To ceasefires.”
—
A few beers later, Sam decided it was time to leave. I kept lingering, discussing plans for the restaurant with Jolene, until Sam and Zeb shared a determined “manly men together” look and dragged us away from the table.
“You know, if you make too much of a show of this, some very ugly rumors about vampire brutality on tourists will start spreading around town,” I told Sam, snickering as he slung me under his arm like a football and carried me down the darkened sidewalk to his truck.
“Yeah, because I have such a great reputation.” He grunted as he hauled me toward the truck. “My God, woman, how much funnel cake did you eat?”
“Nice.” I barked out a laugh while he opened the truck door for me. He grinned down at me, giving me a boost as I climbed into the passenger seat. His hands were resting on my hips, and I had the strangest urge to map that little constellation of freckles on his cheekbone with my tongue. His lips parted, and I leaned forward just in time to hear—
“Sammy?”
Breaking a Few Eggs
9
The spell broke as we turned to find Sam’s ex-wife standing on the sidewalk, gaping at us.
“Sammy, what are you doing here?” Lindy demanded, shrugging off the insistent arm of a blond, tan man in jeans and pink polo shirt. The guy was in his midthirties and had intentionally popped his collar.
An unfiltered expression of pain flashed across Sam’s face, particularly when he saw Mr. Popped Collar’s arm around Lindy’s shoulders.
“You know it’s not a good idea for you to be out in public.” Lindy sighed, as if she were scolding a small child. “You know how you are. What if you hurt someone?”
“I’m fine.” Sam growled, ever so subtly stepping away from me. I looked to Popped Collar, to gauge how he felt about interloping in the Clemsons’ bizarre marital drama. He appeared to be playing Angry Birds on his phone.
“Still, maybe I should take you home,” Lindy fussed. “You know how you get around humans. This has to be pushing your control to the limit. Let’s just get you home before you hurt someone.”
“Don’t you worry about me!” Sam barked. “You owe Tess here an apology for dragging her into our mess. How could you rent the house without even talkin’ to me? That’s out-there, even for you, Lindy.”
“Sammy, I didn’t want to rent out the house, but I needed the money,” she said, her voice rising to a wheedling, babyish tone that grated on my nerves. “You know how expensive it is to start up with a new apartment. I just need a little extra to put down the security deposit.”
I huffed. “Oh, come on!”
Sam turned to me with a weird, glazed expression, as if he’d almost forgotten I was there, despite the fact that he’d just spoken about me. “Could you just give me a minute?” he asked.
I sighed. “Fine.”
I climbed into the truck and slammed the door. Unfortunately, Sam’s windows were pretty solid, and I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other side of the glass. That was a shame, because Lindy appeared to be wailing like a banshee, and Sam was waving his arms to an invisible orchestra.
Sam’s fangs kept popping down, which was a problem for new vampires not quite in control of their emotions. Of course, every time it happened, Lindy flinched dramatically, which only made Sam more upset. Popped Collar remained blissfully uninvolved.
When Lindy started screaming, her face flushing red while she jabbed her finger toward Sam’s face, I’d had enough. I didn’t want to get pulled into the middle of this, but damn it, she didn’t get to talk to Sam that way. Not after what she’d pulled, not after leaving him without money or friends or the house he loved. I threw the truck door open, hauling the heavy cast-iron pot with me, just in time to hear Sam exclaim, “You’re going to have to deal with it!”
