Page 51 of Blood and Buttercups

I blinkat the man in front of me, dumbfounded. Finally, I say, “But your name is Noah.”

“Noah is my middle name, and that’s what my friends and family call me. Montgomery is my first name.”

I purse my lips, processing the information. “All right, but your family’s store is called ‘Howell’s Grocery.’ Isn’t that your last name?”

“That’s my grandfather’s last name—my mother’s father. When he retired, he passed it to my mom and dad. My last name is York.”

No.

It can’t be.

Because that means that Noah knows that I’m…

He knew all along.

Everything clicks into place, and I want to crawl under a rock.

Eyeing him warily, I sit on the recliner across from him.

He watches me, looking awfully nonchalant. “Did your doctor give you the encyclopedia of Vampiria B reading material?”

“Yes.”

“Did you read any of it?”

“Yeah.” My answers are clipped, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it.

“I have a few things I’m supposed to go over with you, and then we’ll head into the kitchen and you can take your first dose of your prescription.”

I narrow my eyes, pretty darn ticked he waited this long to tell me who he was. Long enough I started to think he was coming around because…because he wanted to.

More like babysitting,he said.

I draw in a deep breath through my nose and exhale slowly.

“You’re upset,” he says.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“I don’t care who you are or what your job is—we will have boundaries.”

He cocks his head to the side, challenging me.

I lean forward, pinning him with my eyes. “You willnotbreak into my house again.”

Noah leans forward as well, matching my stance. “You sent me a text saying your vampire stalker tried to contact you this morning and then you went silent. You think I’m going to ring your doorbell and shrug when you don’t answer?”

I open my mouth, but words don’t seem to be happening right now.

“Like it or not, Piper, I take my job seriously. You’re my only pre-vamp, and you just happen to be a high-priority one, with red flags all over your file. You’re going to seea lotof me.”

Okay, the appropriate response is anger. Obviously. Not…not whatever this hot, vining sensation in my stomach is.

“Now,” he says curtly, “can we please get back to our introductory meeting?”

I sit back, crossing my arms, nodding for him to continue.

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