Page 12 of Just the Pool Boy at Vampire Mansion

“No. Pfft. What? I’m just the pool guy, remember? Bye now. You don’t have to pay me. You can just go.”

“Hm . . .” He eyed the door, then looked at my beige carpet, then lifted his gaze back to me. “I don’t think I will.”

“But you have to.”

“And I’m not going to.” He shrugged, like none of this mattered.

Ugh. All of this mattered. “No, you have to, though.”

“You seem real keen to get me gone.”

“Well yeah, you could be a murderer.”

“Oh, I’m definitely that. But I didn’t murder that guy.”

I blinked. “Okay.” No. I didn’t want to hear any more, or have him in my apartment a second longer. But now he was walking back to the couch, and sitting down, like he had every right to be there. “Hey? You can’t just sit.”

“I like this couch.” He spread his arms across the backs of the cushions. “Think I’ll stay.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“I changed it.”

“No, you can’t change deals.” Panic made my chest ache. “You have to go.”

He shrugged, and spread his legs, getting comfortable “You goin’ to call the cops on me, Owen?”

I swallowed and looked toward the window to keep him from snagging my gaze. “I might.”

“Didn’t think so.” He smiled. “Aren’t you a dark horse. Now I want to know what secrets you got in your closet. Bet mine are bigger.” He ran the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip, inviting my gaze right there. “And here I was thinking you were all freckles and sunshine.”

“I am . . . like that.” Not sure about the freckles, but I was good. Mostly. I hadn’t always been. Good was the new look for me. A whole new life, new Owen. Good, and kind, and broke, with no future and too much past.

He waited, as though I might change my mind and fill him in on all my secrets. I wasn’t going to tell a vampire I’d just met my life story. Especially one who put everything on Instagram.

“Look, man. I just clean pools.” I spread my hands, hoping he’d take pity on me. “You can’t be here. Maybe you don’t care about anything or anyone, but I have a life I’m trying to build here and you’re making it difficult to do that. I need you gone. So, if you’ve got any kinda feeling in your heart, if influencers have feelings, then I am kindly asking you to please go.”

The banter had gone now, and his smile faded as I talked.

He pushed off the couch and made his way over to me, his face all serious. The serious face made my heart skip, and reminded me of what he’d said earlier. He hadn’t denied being a murderer. It probably came with the vampire job description. But now I was alone with him and only my corrections officer knew he was here, and if he decided to kill me, nobody was going to find my body for days. Maybe he had killed the neighbors’ pool guy, and I was next. Although, if he had, then why pay me to go look at the corpse? Unless he was that twisted. I wasn’t sure about that. Messed up, yes. Twisted psychopath? I didn’t think so. And I had experience.

“Uhm, so . . .” I kept my hands loose at my sides, pretending I’d last three seconds in a fight. He stepped into my personal bubble again, too close to be socially acceptable, but close enough for intimate things, like kissing, or biting, or breaking necks.

I swallowed. His gaze tracked the movement down my throat, his pretty eyes getting bigger.

“Alright,” he said, looking away. When he looked back again, his pupils had returned to their normal size. “I hear you. I’ll go.”

I nodded, not sure my voice would hold if I spoke.

He turned toward the door, like I’d asked him to, and something in my chest gave a tug. Couldn’t have been my heart, because feeling anything for this guy was a one-way ticket to trouble. Even pity. But as he made for the door, his shoulders dropped, and his steps in those boots got heavy. Yeah, okay, I felt bad now. But it was him or me, and he probably had teams of lawyers and enough money to buy his way out of whatever mess he was in. I just had me and Bet. Nobody was going to buy my way out of trouble. That had already been proven once.

He pulled two one-hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and tossed them on the little table by the door where I kept my car keys.

“You’re still our pool guy, right?” he asked, half looking over his shoulder but not really seeing.

“Yeah, I guess, if you want.”

“I want you, Owen.” His lips ticked, then he opened the door and was gone. I didn’t even hear his boots clomp down the hall.