Page 83 of Blood and Buttercups

“Girlfriend? He looks like he should have a wife, two kids, and a high-strung Labrador retriever.”

“He had the wife and the dog.”

“What happened?”

“She left him for a vampire. We don’t talk about it—he took it pretty hard. Thankfully, he now has Ainsley.”

“Doesn’t he live in Denver, though? How is she going to be my conservator when she’s three hours away?”

“She has family here, so she goes back and forth between the Glenwood Springs branch and the Littleton location.”

“And she’s nice?”

“She’s great.”

“And this Colin guy. How often do you have to see him?”

“Just long enough to check in and take him to his appointments.”

“Do you think it’ll be okay?”

“I’ll make sure Ainsley doesn’t leave you alone while I’m gone.”

“What are we going to do if my file gets wiped clean again, I don’t get assigned a hunter to my case, and Ethan is never brought to justice? Will I ever be able to go outside by myself again?”

I like having Noah around, but I don’t want to live like that.

“Reid will get someone on it,” Noah promises. “Until then, you’ll just have to deal with me.”

“I suppose I’ll manage…”

“You want to go out tonight?”

I look at him, startled by the abrupt turn in the conversation. “For dinner?”

“And maybe go to Carbondale for a movie? You can have popcorn now.”

“Like…a friend-date?”

“You can call it a friend-date if you like. We may or may not make out in my car before we go home, but we’ll leave it open.”

Heat floods my chest. “I friend-zoned you.”

Noah’s eyes are bright, and his smile is tinged with mischief. He opens the door, standing just enough in the way I have to brush past him to get out. “It’s cute you think that means something.”

18

Excuse me while I hyperventilate.

Pretending I’m unflappable and unaffected, I slip into the passenger seat and hook my seatbelt. But telling myself not to imagine kissing Noah is a lost cause when we’re trapped in a vehicle together. His SUV smells like him—like his soap or deodorant or whatever is responsible for that clean, fresh scent.

I remember the feeling of his lips grazing my earlobe, and my skin tingles with anticipation.

But instead of dwelling on whether I’m finally going to kiss Noah tonight, I force myself to focus on the only other thing my brain wants to latch onto.

“Vampires can’t go out in the middle of the day unless there’s heavy cloud cover,” I say when we’re pulling onto the road. “But Cassian did. How?”

Noah’s good mood fades. Apparently, he’s not interested in talking about the vampire. “They’re experimenting with a few new daylight drugs at one of our research centers in California. Cassian signed himself up as a guinea pig.”

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