Page 21 of Just the Pool Boy at Vampire Mansion

“Yeah, but it’s Theo Witherborne,” I said aloud.

The traffic started to move, so I had to abandon the phone and get on with driving. The texts kept coming. One after another. Clearly, Theo didn’t understand what no meant.

But also, what if being Theo Witherborne wasn’t all it looked like from the outside? He’d said I thought I knew him, but he’d said it with a snarl. He could call up a bunch of people at the click of his fingers, but maybe he didn’t want to because with them, he had to be something he’s not?

Maybe he liked hanging out with the pool guy because I didn’t ask anything of him. I was just the pool guy.

Alright, so maybe I was intrigued. That was allowed. I was human, after all. Curious. Bored. Lonely. Ex-con. Bad past. Needed to stay away from trouble.

After I parked in the lot outside my apartment building, I picked up my phone and sent,

fine but no social media

Done. 10pm. c u later

A little scattering of butterflies held a tiny riot in my belly. No, nope, wasn’t getting excited. I was going there purely for research. I’d find out about Jay Green, to determine if I was in danger. That was all. This wasn’t anything personal. I had no personal interest in Theo whatsoever. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

I hurried inside, dumped the gear in the closet by my front door, and headed to the bedroom to figure out what I was going to wear for my not-date with the Witherborne heir.

CHAPTER 6

The not-date began as I pulled up to the house and stepped out onto the paved driveway. Cool night air whispered through the towering palms. The house itself glittered in the dark, all pointed angles, steep gables, and tall arched windows lit gold from the inside. Pale stone looked silver under the moonlight, and wrought iron curled along the balconies. A couple of spires stabbed up into the night sky. It looked like the kind of place that had opinions about your shoes and life choices—beautiful, and faintly threatening, which tracked, considering the owner. I always went around the back via the side path, never through the front door, so tonight it felt wrong, stepping under the porch to knock.

All the windows blazed. Music thumped from somewhere inside, sounding distant.

I caught my reflection in the porch’s little glass windows and ran a hand over my hair. I’d chosen a nice shirt over black jeans. Not too much. Not a date. Just a . . . whatever this was. I wanted information on Jay. What Theo wanted, I wasn’t sure, but I was about to find out.

The door flung open, and Theo waved me in. His dark hair was in its natural mop. No curls, but a few licks. He wore a plain black button-down shirt, and had left it untucked with a few buttons undone at the collar. His pants were wide-legged and loose, the fabric light and easy, giving hints of a fine body beneath.

He held out a beer, his smile loose and moving on his lips.

“You want a tour?” he asked.

I took the beer and gaped at the cavernous reception hall. A glossy grand piano sat beneath the curved staircase, looking tiny compared to the rest of the space. “Uhm, sure. Do you play?” I asked, nodding at the piano.

“Pfft, not really. It’s mostly for show.”

He took me through each of the rooms, his voice echoing off the walls while he explained how the house had been built long before Coconut Grove was Coconut Grove, back when this stretch was mangrove and mosquitoes and not much else. The neighborhood had grown up around it, he said, streets bending to make room, the whole city rising on every side while the house just sat there refusing to budge. Older than most of Miami. A stubborn holdout from a Florida that didn’t exist anymore, the kind of place developers must have circled for a century and never once got their hands on. He pointed out paintings older than some countries, heavy gold frames, dead Witherbornes staring down from the walls like they were checking my references. By the sixth room, I’d stopped listening to much of what he was saying, my attention less on the house, and more on the man telling me about it. He moved easily, gracefully even, and quick. I had to jog a few times to keep up.

His smile was alive tonight, moving as quick as his steps. His eyes were bright too. The whole effect was magnetic. I caught myself staring, pulled my gaze away, and took a swig of my beer.

“You still with me?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry, I . . .” I trailed off, caught by his smile again.

“I’ve talked long enough about the boring house, huh?”

“No, your house is lovely. I just . . . It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, doing what?”

“Pool stuff.”

“Right.” He grinned, teeth flashing white. “So, you gonna ask me about Jay or are you building up to it?”

“I uh . . .” I laughed a little nervously. “Am I that obvious?”

We’d made it to the patio and the sunshade.