“It’s breathtaking. I had no idea you were so talented.”
His eyebrows arched. “I’m not sure I’d call it talent. When you’re as old as I am, you’ve seen the best and worst of public entertainment. I like the concept of different spaces for different needs, so that’s why it’s carved up into three main rooms.”
“I’m glad you did. If every room was like the red room, I’d never come here.”
His lips twitched.
A waitress with silver hoop earrings whisked over to our booth, her hair pulled into a tidy bun. She kept her attention solely on Atticus. “Yes, sir?”
Atticus reached across the table to capture my attention. “Do you have a request, or shall we look at a menu?”
One of my pregnancy cravings was in full force, but would they serve it at this late hour? “Would it be possible to have breakfast for dinner?”
“Absolutely,” the green-eyed woman replied. “What would you like?”
“Pancakes with syrup, sliced strawberries, powdered sugar, and maybe just one sausage on the side.”
“And to drink?”
“Sweet tea with lemon.”
“Coming right up.”
I giggled and sat back. “Salem would kill me.”
“For?”
“He wants me to cut back on sugar and salt.”
Atticus laughed quietly. “For what reason? You’re a Shifter. You don’t suffer from the same risks as humans.”
I tapped my fingernail on a candleholder. “Maybe that was his subtle way of saying I might get fat and retain water. The surprise is on him because I love my new size.”
“As do I.”
That intrigued me more than it should have.
The candlelight illuminated his chiseled face and emphasized the depth in his obsidian eyes. Atticus didn’t possess any nervous habits such as talking too much or fidgeting, and I was finding myself more at ease in his presence. Most Vampires I’d met thrived on terrifying people, yet Atticus was so amiable.
“What are you thinking?” he inquired.
“I’m wondering why movies always depict your kind as dead things.”
He gave a lopsided grin. “And what about the films that portray you as hairy monsters who tear through your human skin on a full moon?”
I snorted. “Sometimes it feels that way when our wolves want out. Do you have a heartbeat?”
Atticus leaned forward and placed my hand against his cheek. “I’m very much alive, my lady. Warm-blooded, just like you.”
A flurry of butterflies circled in my stomach. Startled by my reaction, I snapped my hand away from his warm cheek.
He leaned back. “I suppose it makes sense.”
“What does?”
“If your wolf was abused by Vampires, she sees me as a threat. But I’m not. I’m just a man who runs a club and likes to bake.”
The server set our drinks on the table and hustled away.
