Page 33 of Who's Your Daddy?

We seem to be doing a lot in this kitchen, but the one thing we never get around to is the very reason why I’m here. I’m supposed to be looking for a job, but he’s such an enjoyable escape from my sad, pathetic reality. I can’t bring myself to ruin our conversation by reminding him that we’re supposed to be job-hunting.

The sun creeps across the sky, and as night draws closer, I realize that I can’t keep procrastinating. It’s time to get back to my sad, pathetic reality. I have one last spoonful of ice cream before standing up. “I should get going.”

Peter jolts with surprise, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that I would have to leave at some point. “What? No. You can’t leave now. It’s getting dark, and you don’t even have...pants.”

“I’ve got a great solution for that. You’re gonna drop me off at my motel, and no one is gonna notice that I’m not wearing pants when I run the five steps between the parking lot and my motel room.”

He doesn’t like that idea at all and stands up, too. “Just stay the night, and I’ll take you back tomorrow.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

How are we even having this conversation? The answer to that question is blatantly obvious. “Listen, Peter. I know you sold your soul to the devil to get your wealth and your insane good looks and those eyes that they stole from the fucking Jade Palace, but the rest of us meremortalsactually have to work to earn a living.”

He smirks, pulling his lips in to keep a straight face. “I’m immortal now?”

“C’mon, you’re not fooling me. Your taste in music and movies is a dead giveaway that you were born in the 1800s.”

A howl of laughter rips out of him. It’s so contagious I have to bite my lip to stop myself from joining in.

“I’m sharp as nails,” I continue. “I grew up onVampire Diaries,Supernatural, and Wattpad paranormal romances. You can’t sneak something like that past me.”

He still can’t stop laughing. “I tried so hard, though.”

“So, what are we dealing with here? Wendigo? Chiron? Some type of demon?”

“Vampire,” he confirms with a nod.

“I knew it.” I narrow my eyes at him conspiratorially. “But now that we’ve got that out the way, I’m sure you can understand why I shouldn’t be spending time with an immortal fuckboy. It’s very unproductive. Especially if my goal is to eventually meet a nice, faithful guy and settle down. Nice guys don’t want to necessarily date women who...have been with guys likeyouin their past, so every second I’m with you only further ruins my chances of getting married one day.”

His jaw tightens, and even though I notice a quick eye roll, he doesn’t make a comment about that.

“But that’s only one small part of the problem. Bottom line is, I need to sort my life out and get a job.”

“I told you I’d help you with that.”

“And I appreciate the offer. I appreciate your hospitality. I appreciate that you stopped me from making a really stupid mistake last night. Then you still brought me back here and listened while I babbled ‘til God knows what time. I’m grateful for all of that...but it was all just a distraction from the life I need to get back to. Staying here, talking about random crap all day, is not gonna help me find a job.” I reach up to lightly touch his face. “Thank you for everything. Sincerely, I mean it. But I have to go now.”

He stiffens at the contact, shifting back until my hand falls from his face. It’s the same distant coolness he’s been showing me from the moment I woke up, so I shouldn’t be surprised, but that reaction still catches me off guard.

“Sorry,” I say, sounding rather sheepish. “I’m new to this, so I don’t understand the rules or...how any of this works?”

“How what works?”

“This.” I gesture between the two of us. “You know...the day after. We’ve already had sex, so I’m sort of...expired goods because...you’re only into doing it, like, one time with a girl...or whatever, but now I’m still here, and I’m just making it awkward by touching you..."

He’s speechless, staring at me, completely dumbfounded, and it only makes everythingmoreawkward.

“Like I was saying...I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” I say when the silence stretches on for a tad too long.

I spin on my heel and make a beeline for the staircase. As I pass through the foyer, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the entryway table. My cheeks are bright red with embarrassment. Peter catches up to me before I even get halfway through the foyer. Grabbing my wrist, he spins me around to face him.

“Wait.” Confusion has etched itself into every crease on his forehead. He literally looks like his brain is about to explode, trying to process everything I just told him. “Back up a second. Say that again. You’re expired what?” It must be a rhetorical question because he doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “How did you even...” He runs both hands down his face before fixing those jade eyes on me. “Okay, let’s clear this up because some wires got crossed here. The reason I don’t want you touching me is not because I see you asexpired goods. What the fuck even is that? Jesus!” He’s still grappling with that statement because he shakes his head, as if he’s mentally rejecting the entire concept. “The reason I don’t want you touching me is because...” His hands curl into tight fists. “...because I am right there. Right on the fucking edge, so close to just...losing it. You’re looking sexy as all hell in my T-shirt...and I know you havenothingon underneath that. So, I’ve been sitting in there forhours, just gritting my teeth, trying not to think about that.”

I watch the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing elevates. His jaw is tight, shoulders tense.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

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