It’s fricking adorable, and who’d a thunk I’d ever saythatabout a vampire?
Other than Dexter, that is.
“You have to separate the egg yolks from the whites,” I tell him. “I’ve never done that.” I reach for the tablet that lives on the kitchen bar and call up YouTube. I find a cooking tutorial, and we watch it several times before he attempts it and gets it perfect on the first try, grinning like a kid at his success.
He’s annoying like that. I think it’s a vampire thing.
“Was that a plane I heard earlier?” he asks with his eyebrows arched in a way I’ve already come to know means hopeful eagerness. He’s adorable. He really is. If my heart wasn’t totally shattered—#selfinflicted—I’d be tempted to ask if he was interested.
Seriously tempted.
But, no, he’s my boss, and quickly becoming a friend.
#vampzoned
Besides, he might not be exactly…single.
“Yeah. Small private passenger, not a cargo delivery.”
“Ah. Darn.”
I swipe through to the FedEx app to track his package. “Yourcocotteisn’t scheduled to land here until tomorrow, boss. It’s still on its way to Anchorage.” He placed an order for a Le Creuset Dutch oven and he’s dying to get it, even though he already hasthreefricking Dutch ovens.
They’re expensive as hell, but apparently the recipe he wants to try usesthatparticular one, and he’s an old, rich, stubborn, and borderline anal-retentive vampire. Even though he can use one of the others, he wants to usethatone, because fates forbid he deviates from the recipe in the slightest, even though it says you don’thaveto use that particular one.
#shrug
What are you gonna do?
Plus, he’s got a special edition Star Wars one coming with it. Which, I mean,seriously, I’ve spent less money for a full set of cheap new tires on the 4Runner in the past than he did on two damn pieces of cookware.
We should also receive his next order of human blood in tomorrow’s delivery. It’s a regular shipment, designed to keep ahead of his need so there’s no worry about him running low should there be any supply line issues. It is fricking Alaska, after all.
“Any news from Corbin today?” he asks a little too casually.
“Not yet.” I glance at the time. “He’ll probably check in soon.” He checks in every day. I suspect there is way more than an employer-employee dynamic between the two. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but the way Corbin sends me reminders about things to do for Chaldis, and the slightly too-casual way Chaldis asks about Corbin, pings my instincts.
Meaning I’m reasonably sure there’s somethingthere. Corbin’s single and has worked for and lived with Chaldis for over fifteen years, even though Corbin barely looks like he’s older than his mid-twenties. I suspect there’s been at least a few blood exchanges between the two. Probably quite a few receiving on Corbin’s end, if I take Corbin’s youthful appearance into account. Maybe Corbin’s a sweetblood. Who knows?
But it’s not my business.
At allll.
I mean, the fact that I’m in the second-biggest bedroom, which is a guest room, and Corbin apparently sleeps in the same bed as Chaldis, is anotherhugehonking clue.
But the men didn’t mention it, so I won’t be so gauche as to bring it up. They’re both consenting adults, right?
“I hope he’s all right,” he quietly says. “I worry so about him when he leaves.”
“Why don’t you travel with him?”
He snorts. “The logistics are insane.” He glances my way. “I am rich by human standards, but I am not Lucius Frangelico or Dexter Van Sussex rich. I also don’t wish to place an extra emotional burden on my b—I mean, on him.”
“Burden on your…?”
Okay, so I am a little nosy. Sue me.
He sighs and plants his hands on the counter before meeting my gaze. “You are an intelligent woman. You tell me.”
