Page 85 of Starry with a Chance of Nightshade

The guy set our drinks on the table and left.

Stratton eyed my dinner like it was about to cloghisarteries.

I reached for the condiments in the center of the table. I took the ketchup bottle and proceeded to dump a bunch in my basket.

Stratton continued to look horrified at my meal choice.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He snapped out of his stupor and met my gaze. “Yes.”

I dunked a fry in ketchup and popped it in my mouth.

His expression went from horror to hunger quickly. I got the sense he wasn’t hungry for food by the way he fixated on my mouth.

I swallowed my fry and eyed him. “Are you going to eat or just watch me eat?”

“Right, eat. Yes,” he said, reaching for a fork and knife from a center basket of cutlery. He then proceeded to poke his chicken like it might spring back to life and run off the table.

“You hate it here,” I said with a frown. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he said quickly. “I don’t hate it.”

I dunked another fry in ketchup, putting extra on it to prove a point.

He stared at it and then me as I ate it.

The look on his face made me laugh. I had to cover my mouth to avoid spitting food. “You totally hate it.”

“I swear that I don’t,” he said. “In fact, I’m really happy to be here with you.”

My cheeks heated.

He took a sip of his tea and didn’t make a face, so I assumed he was at least fine with that. “What were we talking about? Oh, yes, how you ended up here in Grimm Cove of all places.”

The truth wouldn’t do so I went with something close to the truth, minus monsters and demons. “I went to college here. For the most part, I really liked my time here in town. I’m back now for nostalgia’s sake.”

“You went to Grimm U?” he asked, seeming surprised.

I nodded. “I did.”

“What did you study?”

“Gothic literature,” I supplied. “I had every intention of going on to get my master’s and then do a PhD Study in Gothic. My end goal had been to teach at the university level but that didn’t pan out.”

He laughed softly. “Well, you ended up in the right town if you like Gothic literature.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “What’s your favorite novel? Let me guess, Mary Shelley’sFrankenstein.”

For a second, drawing in air was difficult. Heat flared through me, and I felt a little like I might be sick.

Stratton’s other hand found the back of my neck. For a second, it felt as if his hand had cooled rapidly, therefore cooling me down in the process. “You all right?”

I bit my lower lip before thinking on my response. “Yes. Sorry. Not sure what happened there.”

That wasn’t true. I knew but I didn’t want to get into it all with him. Instead, I pressed a smile to my face and glanced at him. “What about you? How did you come to be here?”

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