Page 17

“You’re not that old,” I teased him, letting go of my self-consciousness and smiling.

“Feels like it some days,” Hugh humphed, then turned his attention to the customer with a whole basket of goodies who’d just approached the counter.

I waved goodbye, then headed out into the evening. I felt sorry for Hugh. It must have been horrible to go through a bad divorce while struggling with your identity. Of course, Hugh hadn’t told me outright he was gay or bi or whatever, but I’d seen him checking out some of the cuter customers who came into Provisions when he didn’t think anyone was watching, and I’d seen the consternation in his expression when he did.

That was a can of worms to open on another day, though, and it wasn’t even my can of worms. My worms were of a more ghostly variety, and they were coming over tonight.

I chuckled as I pulled up the collar of my coat and pushed against the damp wind that hinted rain was coming. I would have to work on that metaphor. Bastian definitely wasn’t a worm.

If Bastian was anything animalesque, he was a snake. A gorgeous, intriguing, alluring snake. And I liked snakes, by the way. They were beautiful and misunderstood creatures. Kind of like Bastian might have been.

My thoughts turned to other sorts of snakes as I walked the four blocks to my overly interesting house. It had been ages since I’d gone on a date and even longer since I’d hooked up with a guy. I might have had a reputation for being cute and funny, but that didn’t mean I was above a random hook-up now and then. I’d stopped paying for Grindr over a year ago, though, and I hadn’t gone out to any of Philly’s gay clubs since I’d thrown my efforts into starting Provisions and buying my house.

At the same time, I wasn’t going to try to get Bastian in bed just because I was ready for some action. I liked him too much for that. I liked him enough that I wanted to see if we could do something other than bang and bail.

That something started with food, of course. I was Italian, after all. As soon as I got home, I opened the fridge, got the oven preheating, and filled the counter with every fresh ingredient I had, deciding what to make on the fly.

That turned into spinach and cheese stuffed shells, a huge tossed salad—which I made while thinking “I wouldn’t say no to having my shells stuffed or my salad tossed”—and garlic bread, of course. Making all that was second-nature to me, and by the time Bastian’s knock sounded on the door, the cheese was bubbling on top of the baking shells, the kitchen smelled of garlic, and my stomach was growling.

Polo jumped up from his fluffy bed in the kitchen, barked once to let me know we had a visitor, then scampered down the hall to the door. I might have scampered a bit as I followed him.

“Hi!” I exclaimed as I threw open the door, drinking in the tall, luscious sight of Bastian. He wore another long, black coat, this one with embroidery around the cuffs and lapels, no hat over his vibrant hair this time, and had his backpack slung over one shoulder again.

“Hey,” he greeted me with a smile that was almost…expectant? Maybe he thought something might happen tonight, too.

“Come in, come in!” I stepped back and invited him in with a flourish. “Supper is just about ready.”

“You cooked for me again?” Bastian asked, his eyes going wide and his nostrils flaring as he stepped into the house.

“Italian,” I told him as I shut the door behind him, then skipped ahead to lead him into the kitchen.

Bastian laughed. “Of course. It smells amazing. But, oh, wait.” He stopped just inside the kitchen with a slightly exaggerated frown.

I panicked just a wee bit. “What? Is something wrong?”

Even Polo cocked his head to one side, like he was concerned, too.

Bastian sniffed the air. “Is that garlic I smell?”

“Yes?” I answered slowly, suddenly worried he was allergic.

Bastian hummed and frowned, set his backpack on a spare chair off to one side of the room, then said, “You know we vampires can’t have garlic, right?”

I gaped, rigid with panic for a second.

Then Bastian grinned at me with a level of teasing that had my knees turning to jelly and another part of me doing the exact opposite. “Just kidding,” he said, then winked.

I blinked once, twice, then burst into laughter. “You had me going for a second there.”

Yeah, he had me going, alright. There was no way I was going to make it through supper without embarrassing myself, like I had the other night when I’d kissed him.

“Vampire jokes are my go-to,” he said, coming over to the counter beside the oven as I took out the shells. “Wow, those look incredible.”

“I can do pasta bakes in my sleep,” I explained. “It’s one of my many talents.”

“One of many,” Bastian agreed, nodding. And if I wasn’t mistaken, he raked his gaze down to my backside and up again.

I ignored the way he checked me out, because if I dwelled on it, we weren’t going to get either supper or ghost hunting accomplished before we ended up horizontal or Bastian changed his mind and fled.