Page 31 of Silent Nights and Vampire Lights

He nodded noncommittally. “We have time for something to eat. This diner has an excellent reputation for burgers.”

I glanced around in disbelief. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an intermittent sickly glow across the cracked vinyl booths that had been patched with duct tape that no longer matched the burgundy vinyl. I traced my finger along a deep groove in the Formica tabletop, wondering how many decades of coffee cups and restless hands had left their mark here. The window beside me was grimy, streaked with what looked like years of half-hearted cleaning attempts, but through it, I could see the neon "OPEN" sign reflecting off the wet pavement outside.

The menu in front of me was sticky, its laminated pages curling at the corners, food stains creating a kind of abstract art around the prices that had been crossed out and rewritten multiple times in different colored pens. A lonely piece of pie rotated slowly in a dusty display case, its meringue peaks looking more like plastic than food.

Michael had promised to take me somewhere safe. I supposed this qualified—it was hard to imagine anyone, vampire or human, looking for me in a place that time itself seemed to have forgotten.

“Is it safe?” I whispered.

He glanced at me. “You’re being chased by hitmen, and you’re worried about a diner?”

“It seems silly to survive the mafia only to be killed by salmonella.”

“Honey, you won’t get that here. Dominick cooks everything until it’s shoe leather. Salmonella can’t survive that. Now I can’t say much about that Noro virus. Iris isn’t much for cleaning like she should,” said the waitress in the bubblegum pink polyester uniform, platinum bouffant, and more makeup than I’d seen since the Drag Queen Bingo show I went to in Pittsburgh.

That did not reassure me. I set the menu down. “Coffee. Black.”

Michael grunted. “Cheeseburger. Well done, with a side of onion rings.”

I waited for her to leave and leaned forward. “Don’t you think we should get moving?”

“Not yet. We have time.”

He was avoiding my gaze, reading that menu like it was the most absorbing, fascinating novel of all time. I narrowed my gaze, suspicion growing. “What are you waiting for?”

He lifted his head and arched an eyebrow. “Waiting? For my dinner, of course. Nicholas dragged my ass out of bed to escortyou to your new home. I didn’t have time for dinner. I think I deserve something to eat.”

His words rang true, but something was off. But I couldn’t find it inside of me to care. Not anymore.

I stared into my coffee, watching the fluorescent lights create oil-slick rainbows on its surface, when I heard the bell above the door chime. I didn't look up—I'd stopped looking up a few patrons ago, tired of the disappointment when it wasn't him. The squeaking of shoes on linoleum told me someone was approaching, and I tensed when they stopped at my booth.

"Your coffee looks cold."

My heart stuttered in my chest. I knew that voice. Slowly, I raised my eyes to find Nicholas standing there, looking somehow both perfectly put together and completely wrung out. His dark hair was windswept, his normally impeccable clothes slightly rumpled, and his eyes—God, his eyes were fixed on me like I was water and he'd been wandering in the desert.

He loomed over us, his gaze almost eating me up, then he shot Michael a thoroughly put out glare. “This is the place you stopped? You could have picked up a deadly disease eating here.”

“That’s what I said,” I chirped before remembering I was pissed off at him.

Michael shrugged, then slid out of the booth, throwing down a twenty. “It wasn’t this bad the last time I was here. But that was twenty years ago, I think. Hard to remember. If you were that concerned, maybe you shouldn’t have walked away, brother.”

“Maybe you should handle that other situation we talked about,” Nick snarled.

Michael only smiled. “Now that you got your head out of your ass, I’ll head south and make sure no one bothers sweet Holly again.” He turned to me and took my hand, kissing the back of it.“It’s been a pleasure and if Nicholas is any kind of asshole, call me. I’d be happy to take care of you.”

Nick growled, and Michael dropped my hand, chuckling. He headed for the door. “I’ll take care of your problem, Holly. And remember, sometimes it’s hard to take a chance. Be brave. Merry Christmas.”

And he ambled out of the diner with a wave to the waitress, who barely noticed he was gone.

I narrowed my gaze at Nick as he took my hand. “Is he a vampire, too?”

“A damned nosy asshole, but yes, he is,” Nick muttered. “I can’t believe he stopped here. Endangering your life like this. Come on. We’re leaving.”

He tugged my hand, but I had had enough of being dragged places. I yanked my hand back and folded my arms across my chest. “I don’t think so. I’m tired of being told what to do. You dumped me, Nick. You didn’t even ask me.”

To my horror, tears pricked my eyes. I hated that I was crying when all I wanted to do was yell and scream and throw things. Why couldn’t I have the big angry scene and scare everyone? No, I had to go and cry and be a baby.

I stared at the table, tears blurring my vision. A handkerchief appeared, and I hesitated. “It’s cleaner than the napkins here.”

---