It was easy to forget that Robert would burst into flames if he went outside in the sun. I wondered what he did all night to keep himself busy. I could think of one way to occupy his time. I cleared my throat. “And the women?”
“Most human women I encounter in social settings find me dreary,” he said, which made me think of Erica. “Some, though they try to pretend otherwise, fear me because I’m vampire. Then there are women who only want to be with mebecauseI’m vampire. Or rich.”
“Or a rich vampire.”
He smiled. “I’m no fool. I may not be able to read minds like others of my kind, but I know when a woman is telling me what she thinks I want to hear.”
“You didn’t get to where you are by being dumb,” I remarked.
“Indeed. When a man is in my position, it’s difficult to find genuine companions. Most everyone I meet is out for themselves. The closest thing I have to a true friend is Carl, and he works for me.” He shrugged. “Over time I’ve learned to cut myself off from others. Life is a lot less complicated that way.”
I reached across the table and touched his cheek. He seemed surprised by the ease of my touch. Honestly, I was just as surprised as he was. The man was simply magnetic. “Yes, but I imagine it’s lonelier that way,” I said, pulling my hand away. “What I don’t get is how a guy like you is still single. You’re smart, fun, attractive, and you’ve got your act together. Yes, and you’re rich. Have you ever had a special girl in your life?”
“Only once.” He shifted uneasily. “She passed away. I don’t like to talk about it.”
“I’m so sorry, Robert. That’s—”
“You get on out of here RIGHT NOW!” Marge’s shriek boomed through the restaurant, followed by a commotion. Pans clanging, from the sound of it. “I SAID GIT!”
Moments later, a man with an enormous camera came bursting out the kitchen’s double doors. On his heels was a chef the size of a linebacker. The chef seized the man by the collar and dragged him to the front entrance, where he planted a foot firmly on the intruder’s ass and kicked him onto the parking lot.
Marge, holding a massive camera lens that could probably zoom in on the surface of the moon, joined the chef at the entrance. “Here, you forgot this, asshole!” she shouted. The diners gasped collectively as she hurled the lens out the door and then casually strolled back to the kitchen. The man spewed a string of curses when the lens smashed to pieces at his feet.
Dusting his hands off, the chef turned to face the stunned customers, which included even Robert. “Goddamn paparazzi,” the chef spat, as if Locomotive was a hot spot for celebrity sightings. Right. The biggest name they’d ever seen was the Morton Salt sitting on the tables.
“Marvelous,” Robert spat. Quick as lightning, his eyes flashed with anger, but he was quick to get it under control.
Marge scurried over with my slice of pie and Robert’s omelet. “Sorry about that, kids,” she said, clattering our plates down on the table. “I don’t know how he got in here.”
“Who the hell was that?” I asked, flabbergasted.
She furnished me a sly wink. “Like you don’t know.”
“Did he take any photos?” Robert asked, clenching his jaw.
“I don’t think he did, sweetie, but don’t worry. He won’t be back.” Marge wasted no time getting away from us.
“What am I missing?”
Robert waved a hand with disgust. “Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
He looked so pissed that I didn’t argue.
He eyed my slice of pie. “That looks appealing, for human cuisine. What kind is it?”
“Boysenberry.”
He held up his watch. “Shall I time you to see how many bites you can get down in a minute? Pie is an eating contest staple, is it not?”
I snickered. “I’m good, thanks.” I liked that he’d referenced our earlier conversation. Showed that he’d been paying attention. At the end of the end, beyond superficial traits like good looks and money, that’s what most of us want more than anything, isn’t it? Someone who listens to us.
We stared at each other in relaxed stillness. I picked at my pie while he moved his omelet around on the plate.
“Can I ask you a personal question, Robert?”
“Nowyou ask if you can get personal? It’s too late for that, Olivia.”
“Since you put it that way, how old are you?”
