Page 16 of Threadbound

Trixie laughed. “Everyone’s taller than me, James. Besides, he’s notthatmuch taller than me.”

“And pretty, you said?” Rob wanted to know.

“Yes,” Trixie answered, at the same time that Jamie said, “No.”

Rob blinked.

“Notpretty,” Jamie mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“He’s pretty,” Trixie insisted. “Dark hair, green eyes. Skin like bloody milk.”

Jamie made a face. It didn’t matter than he knew ‘bloody’ wasn’t a descriptor, he still imagined the milk with blood in it.

“Sounds like a vampire,” was Rob’s response, making Jamie snort. “So he’s what, a goth type?”

This time both Jamie and Trixie agreed on the no.

“He’s not a type,” Jamie said, not really sure what he meant by that, although it had sounded right in his head.

“He’s the type that’s easy to look at, though,” Trixie quipped, nudging Jamie’s arm with her elbow.

He rolled his eyes and ignored her.

“C’mon, James. You’d take him out, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled into his beer, taking a deep drink of the golden liquid to counteract the blush heating his cheeks. “But it’s not going to happen.”

It was Trixie’s turn to roll blue eyes. “He came back athirdtime, Jamie. Clearly there’s something he’s interested in.”

“Yeah,” Jamie replied. “The history of medicine. He knows his stuff, too.” He took another drink.

“Does he?” Trixie sounded a little impressed. “All the more reason that if he comes back you need to ask him out.”

“I dunno, Trix,” Rob sounded hesitant. “He knows about medical history and comes to a medical history museum? Three times? Are we sure he isn’t a stalker?”

Because that’s totally what I need in my life, Jamie thought.A stalker who’s into murder.Although he hadn’t gotten a ‘stalker’ vibe from the guy… not that Jamie’d ever had a stalker, so he wasn’t really sure what a stalker vibe would feel like.

“He’snota stalker,” Trixie insisted. “He thinks Jamie’s hot.”

Jamie rolled his eyes again. “Now you’re just making shit up,” he said.

“Why else would he keep coming back?” she asked.

“Because he’s interested in medical history?” Jamie suggested again.

“Or he’s a stalker,” Rob pointed out, flipping a loose loc behind his shoulder and leaning back.

Clearly, they weren’t getting anywhere.

“Okay, curry or home?” Jamie asked, tossing back his beer.

“Curry,” Rob voted.

“Hell, yes, curry,” Trixie echoed, sucking the rest of her drink through the tiny straw and standing up. “Always curry.”

Chapter

Nine

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