“Excellent point. Thanks, man, really.”

  “Of course. It was a fun project. So if you have any other ideas, let me know.” He grabs his laptop and stands to leave. “You know, it’s okay to want more. I know what it’s like to think that things like love and a family are forever out of reach, but all it takes is that one person who’s your perfect match.”

  I blow out a breath. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  I think he’s full of shit, but I don’t tell him that. It’s one thing for a guy like Atticus. Yes, he’s a zombie, but he’s not a blood-sucking monster. He isn’t a danger to others.

  Two hours later, I’ve finally gotten up enough courage to call Rosie for our first official video chat. I suppose if she screams and hangs up quickly, I’ll know it’s not working.

  “Wait, hold on. I can’t get my thingy to work.” Her sweet voice spills out of my laptop speakers. Then she appears.

  Well, a close up of her cleavage appears. Fuck me.

  “Oh my God, how embarrassing.” She plops down into a chair and now I can just see her from the very top of her cleavage up. “Sorry about that, I couldn’t figure out how to get the camera to work.”

  “Is it not built-in?”

  She winces. “No. I have a really old laptop, but I’ve almost saved enough to buy a new one with a built-in camera.”

  She’s even more beautiful than she was in her pictures. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, hanging long behind her shoulders. Her black-rimmed glasses give her a sexy-librarian look.

  “You’re a lot hotter…er, older, nope, I mean younger than I was expecting.” Her features squish up again. “I promise I’m not always this much of a disaster. I’ve just gotten used to working from home with just me and Figs.”

  “Figs?” Shit, I think I’m actually smiling because she’s adorable. So full of life and sunshine.

  “Oh, my cat. He’s this huge black and white tuxedo cat, yep, that’s my Figs.” She clears her throat, then straightens her glasses. “Now then, it’s nice to finally put a face with your voice.”

  “Likewise. I don’t have anything specific for us to discuss today since we’ve already had our meeting at the top of the week. But I wanted to make sure the video chatting software was working on my end.”

  “Do you have an older computer too?” she asks, with a tilt of her head.

  “Something like that.”

  She bites down on her pen and twirls it in her mouth. I feel nearly positive she has no idea that is sexy as hell.

  “Will this be how we are meeting from now on?”

  “More or less. I’ll still e-mail and send voice memos when I don’t have time to meet face-to-face, but I think this will make things run more smoothly.”

  “Yes. Excellent.” Her big brown eyes roll upward.

  I’m enjoying her awkwardness immensely. “Very well,” I say, trying my damnedest not to smile. “Have a good day, Ms. Breit.”

  “You too, Mr. Hudson. Uh, Mr. Wells. I promise I won’t be this much of a disaster next time we chat.”

  “No promise necessary, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

  chapter

  four

  Rosie

  Nothing like being interrupted by the doorbell when you’re putting away groceries. There’s a delivery guy on my porch holding a box in one hand and a cellphone in the other. I open the door hesitantly because I’m fairly certain he’s at the wrong side of the duplex.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Have a package for a Ms. Rosie Breit,” he says. “That you?”

  I frown. “Yes, but I didn’t order⁠—”

  “Sign here.” He holds his phone sideways for me to finger scratch my name across the screen. Then he hands me the package and walks back to his truck.

  After closing the door, I stare down at the box. It’s definitely addressed to me, but there’s a stamp over the return address so I can’t even see who it’s from. Weird.

  “Figs, did you order something while I was out picking up groceries?” My sleepy boy looks up at me with his perfectly green feline eyes and slow blinks.

  I set the package down and force myself to go back into my tiny kitchen. I was in the middle of putting away my freezer items and I’ve got to get them up before they melt on the counter. Curiosity gnaws at me. I practically toss everything into the freezer, not caring if the ice cream carton is on its side or the pizza box is bent. I’m dying to see what’s in that sizable box that was delivered to my door.

  I nearly trip over air on my way back to my sofa where I left the mystery box. Oh-so-carefully, I use the pair of kitchen scissors to slice open the box. It would not be the first time I stabbed myself simply by going too fast.

  The first thing I see when I open the box is a smaller envelope. I pull out the note. It’s handwritten on fancy parchment-like paper. The penmanship is small and cramped in a decidedly masculine fashion. My heart thunders in my chest.

  Dear Ms. Breit,

  I’ve been remiss in sending you a proper work computer. Please let me know if this one is sufficient and if you need any other equipment. A more ergonomically correct chair? A printer? Whatever you need, I will expense.

  Sincerely,

  H. Wells

  “Oh my gosh, Figs, I think he bought me a new computer!” I pull out the rest of the packing material to find a plastic-sealed box. It’s the latest compact power machine from Apple. My dream computer, if I’m being honest. But I was gonna be happy with a cheaper PC model.

  “And let him know if I need anything else? Is he kidding?” I scratch Figs under his chin. “Can you imagine? Yes, please, Mr. Wells, buy me a fancy chair with a footrest?” I ask using a ridiculous accent.

  “Could I have some scones and clotted cream too?”

  I don’t know why I’m suddenly talking like Margaret Thatcher.

  I immediately pull up my e-mail app on my phone and record a quick voice memo thank you to him.

  “Mr. Wells! Your generosity is much appreciated. The computer was not necessary, but I’ll readily admit that the newer features will enable me to better serve you. And by serve you, I obviously mean in the purely professional sense. Oh, not that I’m that kind of professional. Yikes, I’m just gonna say a big thank you and leave it at that.”

  I should probably re-record it, but I’m dying to get my new toy out and take it for a spin.

  The following week, there’s a loud knock on my door. Now, I realize that people knock on doors. But not usually my door. I don’t have any family. I don’t really have friends except a couple from college who have since gotten married and moved on. So it’s just me and Figs. Which is why it’s unusual for me to have people standing on my porch.

  I look through the peep hole and see three sizable men.

  “Ms. Breit, don’t be alarmed. We have a package from Mr. Wells to deliver and he gave us explicit instructions that we weren’t to leave until everything was set up.”

  Another gift? And this one requires three guys to put it together?

  I open the door, but not very far.

  The main guy, the one who was talking, has kind eyes. You learn to watch for those sorts of things when you’re in the system. The difference between a truly kind person and one who pretends is sometimes a fine line. But I’ve gotten good at assessing people.

  “I’m Mark,” he says, pointing to his chest. “This is Pete and John.”

  “Mr. Wells sent you? Here?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Mark says. “We have a new desk and office chair to install for you.”

  “Oh, well, I didn’t request⁠—”

  “Yes, he said as much. But he sent a letter explaining everything.” Mark holds out an envelope to me. “You can get started, I guess. But please don’t let the cat outside. He’s not much of a runner, but sometimes he gets a little sassy.”

  They nod as I sit on my sofa to open the envelope.

  Dear Ms. Breit,

  I read a recent study about the negative effects of computer work on a person’s back and hips. It would not sit right with me if I were the cause of such injuries to your body. So, I’ve sent the guys with a state-of-the-art desk that can easily transform from a sitting to a standing desk. The chair you’ll find is ergonomically designed. Please let me know if you need any additional supplies.

  Sincerely,

  H. Wells

  There’s not a tremendous amount of room in my duplex so I hope the pieces aren’t too big. I show the guys where to set it up and they readily go about moving my makeshift desk out of the way.

  Two hours later, the guys have finished putting together my new desk and chair. I send the guys off with my thanks and feel terrible that I didn’t have any cash to tip them. But they assured me they’d been paid well for the job.

  The conversion from sitting to standing happens with just a press of a button. And the chair is so comfortable, I think I could sit here all day.

  As if he inherently knows what I need, he sent me this desk. Because I can’t sit all day. The scar tissue on my back would never allow for that. So I’m often sitting, then standing, then lying down just to keep from pain. I’ve never told any of these things to Mr. Wells, but he knew just what I needed.

  This is definitely not going to help with the ridiculous crush I have on him.

  Yep, I’m a walking cliche. I’ve fallen for my boss. We’ve never even met face-to-face, but that doesn’t stop my heart from racing as soon as I hear the video chatting ring from my laptop. Or even just his name popping up on my phone with an incoming text. I am ridiculous. I do realize this.

  He’s probably married. I haven’t asked.

  Which I should definitely not do because he is my boss and his marriage—hypothetical or real—is none of my business.

  chapter

  five

  Hudson

  The package came hand-addressed and taped up. Seeing her loopy handwriting, a little smeared, feels intimate somehow. I rub my thumb across my name as if I can capture part of her in the pen marks.

  Fuck, I’m getting dramatic in my old age. I don’t even bother trying to do the math to figure out my literal age. That’s the single perk about being a creature of the night. You stop aging. You’re locked in to where you were the precise moment you were turned.

  So I guess I don’t look a day older than my thirty-two years.

  I slice open the tape and open the box. I don’t even remember the last time I got a package like this. Not a package per se, because I get most of my items that way, but this, a present for me.

  I’m in so much trouble with this woman. Last night I looked at her application and discovered she’s barely twenty-three. She’s so beautiful, so sweet and so damn perfect, she’s turned me into a fucking old-man creeper.

  There’s a folded piece of notebook paper on top so I grab that first and unfold it. My eyes are greedy as they eat up her words.

  Dear Mr. Wells,

  Seriously, your generosity seems to know no bounds. I am so grateful. I have some health issues that complicate some things for me, and this desk is absolute perfection! Exactly what I needed.

  I know a return gift isn’t necessary since you’re my employer and simply buying things that would normally be available in a regular office setting. But I wanted to acknowledge your thoughtfulness.

  You mentioned in our last video chat that you struggle with insomnia. I’ve found this tea particularly helpful with that, so I hope it helps you too.

  Sincerely,

  Rosie

  Rosie. Not Ms. Breit.

  I read her note again.

  “You’re creepy when you smile like that,” a voice comes from the doorway.

  I look up to find Chester, my human familiar, standing there with his arms over his chest.

  I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t smiling.”

  “You were totally smiling.” He comes in and sits across from me. His head nods towards the box still sitting on my lap. “What’s that?”

  “A gift.”

  Chester leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and he winces a little. He’s been with me for years, and his age is beginning to show. I don’t even really need him anymore now that I live in Screaming Woods. But I won’t ever put him out. He can leave if he wants, but I consider him family.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  “A tea for insomnia.”

  He cocks a brow. “You told her you have insomnia?”

  “Told who?” I ask pretending like I don’t know who we’re talking about.

  It’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Don’t insult me. We both know who you’re talking about. Pretty sure Polly and June and the rest of the hotel cleaning staff know too.”

  “Whatever. Yes, it might have slipped out during our last video chat.”

  “Video chat,” he snorts. “You’re in so much fucking trouble if this girl ever decides to ignore your protests and pop in for a visit.”

  “That’s not going to happen. There would be no reason for her to come to the hotel.” I glare at my familiar. “Did you need something or are you just in here to piss me off?”

  “I’m always game to piss you off, but I thought you’d want to know that we are at full capacity for the upcoming Monster Mash.”

  “That’s the dumbest name,” I say.

  “Agreed. But it’s what the powers that be decided to call the gathering, party, whatever the hell it is. I just thought you’d wanna know that the hotel is fully booked for that entire weekend.”

  I nod. “Thanks. Let me know if there’s anything I need to handle myself.”

  “We got you covered, boss man.” With that, Chester leaves my office.

  I pick up her letter again and re-read the part about her health issues. What does that mean? Is she hurting? Or sick? Maybe I can figure out a way to ask without breaching her privacy.

  chapter

  six

  Hudson

  My private wing of this sprawling Tudor estate is substantial. Not exactly as big as a standard family home, but not too much smaller. It was in decent shape when I bought it and only required six months of renovation to turn it into the hotel I envisioned.

  Monsters deserve luxury just as much as humans. Okay, maybe not all monsters. The ferals that roam the town are more creature than human now. Humans do come into town. Word has slowly leaked out about this little corner of the world and its unique inhabitants.

  I stare out at the night sky from my chair that faces the windows. Chester calls this my throne. He’s funny that way. I bring the cup to my lips. Because of my giant hands, this teacup looks like one of those tiny ass espresso cups you see in fancy cafes. It’s like, yes, I only wanted two swallows of a drink, please.

  I’ve never been much of a tea drinker. But you can bet your ass I’m drinking the tea Rosie sent me. It’s not going to solve my sleeping issues, but I find the subtle flavor soothing. This isn’t about tea though and I fully recognize that.

  I’m in over my head with this girl. Knowing fully that I can’t have her, I want her. She works for me and clearly needs the job and insurance, so I can’t fire her so she’ll date me. There’s a significant age-gap I can’t ignore. In chronological years, I’m nearly seventy years old. I realize I don’t look like a senior citizen, but she’s barely in her twenties. Wouldn’t that make me a pervert?

  Let’s not forget the main reason I can’t have her… I’m a fucking vampire! Being with a human—being with a mortal—would mean one thing: watching her age and die while I was left alone in this world. That just seems like it would suck.

  Turning someone has never been an option for me. There’s no rule book for vampires.

  No one sits you down and tells you the dos and don’ts, or the ins and outs of this shindig. Can you go into sunlight? Will I fucking glitter like a disco ball if I do? Is it only wooden stakes to the heart that can kill me? How much blood do I drink to turn someone before I accidentally kill them?

  For the record, I’ve never drank human blood from an actual human. Before the new technology of synthetic blood (which comes in flavors!), I lived off of animals and the occasional blood donor bag.

  So yeah, I would never do that to her.

  Then there’s the whole issue of us basically living in different worlds. She would not want to come live in mine. Why would such a vivacious, beautiful girl choose me? I’m a fucking monster.

  My phone pings with an incoming message. I pull it out of my pocket and stare at the screen.

  New Voice Memo From Rosie

  I glance up at the time in the corner of the screen. It’s nearly midnight. What is she doing up so late? I hope not working on something for me. Maybe I’m giving her too many projects.

  I hit play and her sweet voice fills my bedroom.

  “Hudson, I will never send this, but some things need to be said aloud. Or maybe I just need to say them to get them off my mind. I think I might have a crush on you. No, it’s a definite crush. Or maybe just pure, unadulterated lust. I mean, I’d really just like to climb you like a jungle gym.”

  She giggles.

  What the actual fuck? Climb me like a jungle gym? My dick is fully on board with that notion, going fully erect in less than a minute. She didn’t mean to send this to me. She said as much. I should stop the message and just delete it. That’s what I should do. That is not what I do.

  “I love your eyes and the way you look at me through the video screen. I love the sound of your voice. I love the way you don’t smile often, but when you do, it lights up your eyes and you get those little lines that fan out. So sexy.”

  She sighs on that last word. She thinks I’m sexy?

  She’s the sexy one.

  Then I remember she’s seeing a filtered version of me. Yes, it’s my face, but it’s altered. She can’t see how my eyes look other-worldly or the fangs. What she’s considering as sexy isn’t the real me.

  “That’s the truth of it. You’re just super sexy. So masculine and gah, I just really want to jump your bones.

 

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