Page 32 of Bad Luck Vampire

Alasdair’s eyebrows rose. “Then why did they leave you there for three years?”

“I guess they thought I’d gone to live with a family member. They were very upset to learn I’d been in a group home since my parents’ death.”

“Ah.” Alasdair nodded. “So, you got to move out of the group home and live with your best friend, Megan, and her parents.”

“And her brother, Bobby,” Sophie put in. “And now they’re family and I work with them all. Well, not Deb, Mrs. Tomlinson,” she explained. “She’s a grade school teacher.”

Alasdair opened his mouth to say something, but then paused and sat back from the table. It made Sophie glance around. She wasn’t surprised to see their waitress approaching from behind her with their meals. She sat back at once to stay out of the way, and murmured, “Thank you,” as the woman set down their food.

“Mmmm.” Alasdair closed his eyes and inhaled once the woman moved away. “It smells delicious.”

“Which part?” Sophie asked with amusement. She’d ordered the spring rolls and pierogies as appetizers for them to share, and then had ordered a quarter chicken dinner for herself. Alasdair had ordered the quarter chicken dinner as well, at first, but she’d recommended he get the half chicken dinner instead. While the quarter chicken was more than sufficient for her—in fact she knew from past experience that she’d be taking away half her meal in a doggy bag, especially with the appetizers there—she just hadn’t thought the quarter chicken would fill him up. The man was huge.

“Everything,” he decided, opening his eyes to survey the food, before reaching for a spring roll as she did. They paused to look at each other when their hands collided over the appetizers and Sophie swallowed thickly as a rush of tension and excitement slid through her.

If they weren’t in a restaurant, she’d . . . But they were in a restaurant, she reminded herself, and gingerly retrieved her hand then lowered her head to concentrate on her meal as she waited for her body to stop buzzing.

Eleven

“So, unlike me, you have a big family.”

Alasdair stopped chewing and glanced up quickly to Sophie at that comment from out of the blue. They’d been eating in silence for several minutes now. This was the first thing either of them had said since the food had arrived, and her words caught him somewhat by surprise.

Smiling at his expression, Sophie said, “I mean, there’s your brother, Colle, your cousin Valerian, and then your four uncles. Plus, I’m pretty sure Tybo mentioned that Julius was an uncle or something too, and there were obviously others. The groom’s side was full,” she pointed out.

Alasdair finished chewing the food in his mouth which was a bite of delectable chicken, and then swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

He took another bite of chicken.

“Seriously?” Sophie asked with obvious amusement. “That’s all you’re going to give me? Yes?”

“Yes, I have a big family?” he tried.

Sophie snorted at the pathetic offering. “Sure, I spilled my guts all over the table, answering your questions about my family, or lack thereof, and now that it’s your turn to talk, you revert to the caveman again.”

“Caveman?” he asked, sitting up straighter in his seat with alarm. That didn’t sound like a description of a man a woman would be attracted to.

“Yes, caveman,” she said firmly. “And now that I know you can actually talk in whole sentences, the caveman act simply won’t pass muster, so you better start talking, mister.”

Her tone was teasing, but Alasdair suspected the message was not. It was also probably fair. She had answered every one of his questions. Turnabout was only right. He set down the chicken leg he’d been devouring, used the lemon water to clean his fingers, dried them on his napkin, and then reached for his drink for a quick sip before admitting, “I apologize. I have never been much of a talker. Colle is the chatty one of the two of us.”

“Why?” Sophie asked at once.

Alasdair considered the question. It was something he’d never really wondered about. It had always just been that way. Colle chattered away, charming everyone, and he watched and listened, silent and alert. But now that he was thinking about it, he supposed the truth was—“I really do not like people much.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction he’d expected from Sophie, but it wasn’t for her to nod with understanding and say, “I feel you there.”

“You do?” he asked with surprise.

“Of course,” she said as if that should be expected. “I mean, really, people kind of suck.”

Alasdair stared at her, hardly able to believe she agreed with him. He was pretty sure she was the first person who had. At least openly. Usually, on the rare occasions when he’d said something of the like to others, they’d immediately started in with the “people aren’t so bad” nonsense, when really, they were. And he should know, he’d been alive a hell of a long time, more than three hundred years, and a lot of those years as an Enforcer, seeing the worst of the worst. People could be pretty awful.

“Mind you,” Sophie said now, “I suppose I should say people kind of suck in general. I mean, I’ve met a lot of assholes so far in life, but I’ve met a few pretty nice people too. Like the Tomlinsons. Not only did George and Deb take me in and raise me like I was one of their own, they actually put me through university too, and then they gave me a job. They’ve really tried to be there for me and they didn’t have to. I was just the neighbors’ kid and a friend of their daughter’s. They really went above and beyond.”

Alasdair nodded, but was wondering about the assholes she’d encountered.

“And I’ve known other wonderful people like my parents and friends and... others.” Sophie paused and pursed her lips briefly, before saying, “Mind you, they’re all dead now. So, I guess that saying about the good dying young is true.”

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