Page 52 of Hunters and Hydrangeas

“No, but there are potato cubes.”

Noah nods. “I’ll have a bowl of that as well. Piper, do you want soup?”

I nod, impressed Noah’s so thorough. When our server leaves, I say to him, “You’re pretty good at this vampire stuff. What about the potato, though?”

“I usually just eat around them, and it’s fine. It’s only a problem if they thicken the chowder with mashed potatoes—I learned that lesson the hard way.”

“It’s nice having a seasoned vampire for a boyfriend.”

Noah leans forward, giving me his full attention. “If that’s good, imagine having a vampire husband.”

My heart lurches. Trying to act cool and collected, I lift my water glass to my lips. “You say that like you don’t know I’ve already pictured it.”

Noah’s about to respond, but the waiter comes back.

“I forgot to ask how you’d like your steak cooked,” he says to Noah.

“Rare.”

“Cool red center?” the man asks, needing confirmation that Noah wants to eat the steak like a wild animal.

“Correct.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have those soups out shortly.”

As soon as he leaves, I turn my attention back to Noah. “What were you saying?”

“We were talking about chowder.”

“Mmm, no. After that.”

“We’re going to have to share a room again tonight.”

“Why?” I ask, glad that if he’s going to change the subject, at least he picked an interesting one.

“Even if we ask the hotel to change your room, we already know Ethan is watching you. It’s not safe for you to be alone.”

“Safety is very important.”

His lips twitch, and his eyes darken ever so slightly. “It’s always my top priority.”

“If we even make it back to the hotel,” I say, ruining the mood. “Cassian is probably going to call you any minute now.”

Speaking of the vampire, Noah’s phone rings.

“I didn’t mean tosummonhim,” I groan.

Noah chuckles and then answers the call. “Yes?”

Our server brings our soup and a forbidden breadbasket. Trying not to interrupt Noah’s call, he quietly asks me, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“We’re good.” My eyes lock on the buttery, toasted slices of French bread. “Thank you.”

The carbohydrate sirens are calling to me, begging me to take a nibble.

I’m sure they’re good with the soup. So good.

“Just a minute,” Noah says into his phone, and then he scoops up the basket and hands it to the waiter. “Do you mind taking this?”

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