Page 1 of Twilight Sins

1

LUNA

Don’t hate me, but…

I may or may not have set you up on a surprise blind date.

I reread Kayla’s text message half a dozen times while steam slowly starts to pour out of my ears.

Are there any three words in the English language worse than “surprise blind date”? I mean, well, yeah, I can think of a few.

Malignant toe fungus.

Aggressive tax audit.

Husband wants anal.

But “surprise blind date” is no lower than fourth. At worst.

I could strangle her. Kayla Stevenson has been my best friend since we were both in diapers, but right now, I wouldn’t even think twice about pushing her off a cliff.

If she’d shown up here in person like she promised me she was gonna tonight, I really might have done it. When she called, I was just minding my own business, fusing into my sofa while watching some horrendous reality TV show that shall remain nameless. She said she and a few of our mutual friends were meeting up for drinks at this cool bar attached to a Russian restaurant downtown. I tried to get out of it, but she insisted that I get my ass into a little black dress and come have fun for once in my life.

“You’re not quite a couch potato yet, but you’re definitely, like, a couch French fry at this point,” she insisted.

“You’re being dramatic. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Luna! You’re lonely.”

I rolled my eyes even as I flushed with embarrassment. She wasn’t exactly wrong, per se. But I’m the last person on Earth who’s gonna admit that.

“I’d rather be lonely than be Mrs. Grandma’s Boy,” I retorted.

“Now, who’s being dramatic?” Kayla fired back. “So I set you up on one bad date. Sue me.”

“I might! The dude shared a bed with his grandmother, Kay. He was thirty-three! Who does that?”

“I’ll admit it was a little… unusual. But every family is different, y’know?”

“I most definitely do not know.” I let loose a weary sigh. Work had kicked my butt this week, but I wasn’t quite ready for bed. I was stuck in that in-between fugue state of being too tired to do productive stuff like fold laundry or meal prep, but too wired to call it bedtime. “Ugh. What time are you guys meeting up again?”

She’d squealed in delight and, one very reluctant hour later, I found myself outside of The White Bear, a cool-looking cocktail spot in WeHo. I saw a glowing white neon sign in the shape of a huge bear, a very intimidating bouncer dressed in all-black standing guard outside the red leather door…

But no Kayla.

As if she was spying on me, that’s precisely when the texts landed. Don’t hate me, but…

I press Kayla’s contact so hard I’m worried for a moment that I might’ve cracked the screen of my phone. I tap the toe of my boot on the sidewalk curb rapid-fire while the line rings and rings. As soon as she picks up, I don’t wait for her to start talking.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Kay.”

I can practically hear the wince in her voice. “I specifically requested that you not be mad.”

“And I specifically requested that you not do this anymore! You’re giving me an ulcer.”

“Relax, babe,” she crooned. “Everything is going to be fine. For all you know, your Prince Charming is waiting inside with a bouquet of roses, ready to sweep you off your feet.”

“Don’t try to sweet-talk your way out of this. I’m pissed. I mean it.”

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