by S. E. Babin
“Not necessarily. Some people don’t want children. And we both know how long it can take to produce a child between the species. Maybe Portia knows something we don’t.”
This was entirely possible. “I don’t know if I want to fall in love with someone with the possibility hanging over my head,” I admitted.
A flash of disappointment crossed his face before he gave me a polite smile. “Then perhaps you aren’t quite ready to meet your soulmate.”
I opened my mouth ready to give him the what for, but I realized he had a point. I waved my hand. “I’m sorry. Can we start over? This all got a little too intense for me right off the bat and it was my fault.”
Chet gave me a long look before he nodded. He was surprisingly easy on the eyes. Dark hair and light brown eyes gave him a decidedly exotic look. His skin was a lighter olive and it looked like he spent a lot of time in the outdoors. Most werewolves did, but Chet looked like he might make a living being outside.
“So what is it you do for a living?” I asked when the waiter who wandered over to take our order left.
“New construction,” Chet said. “We have some projects going on with Portia right now, and we have some upcoming work with the Alpha.”
“Mark?”
Chet nodded. “I like working with him. He’s fair and never asks us to do anything unethical. That’s a rarity. A lot of people around this town want us to take shortcuts on the buildings to save some money, but that isn’t our way. Plus there’s a lot of liability involved in new construction. We might cost more, but you know it’s going to be done right.” He picked up his wineglass and took a long leisurely sip. I enjoyed the sight of his long uptilted neck. “And you?” he asked, a wicked glint in his eyes when he saw me staring.
“Uh,” I said at first. “I don’t have an official job, but I do have an online jewelry business.” I figured it couldn’t hurt to tell him that. It wasn’t like he was going to run home and tell my parents anything.
“Oh? What kind of jewelry?”
“Metalwork. I’m self-trained.”
“I’d love to see some of your pieces some time.”
I smiled at him. “I’d love to show you some time.”
He was nice. And handsome. But I wasn’t sure he was soulmate material. I couldn’t shake the way Sterling annoyed me into wanting to strangle him. You would think a visceral reaction like that would happen when you met the one you were destined to be with. Not the strangling part. Just the visceral part. Chet was super cute and smart, but I’d only felt one small little zing and that was only when he started talking about breaking the rules. Rebellion must be in my blood.
But was he my soulmate? I couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t. I’d give it another chance to see. I had one more date, so the next one had to be it. If he wasn’t, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Give Portia a piece of my mind maybe.
The rest of the dinner went well. Chet didn't order anything outrageously rare or bloody which put a point for him in the positive category. Nor did he express any wacky opinions or act like he'd rather be anywhere than in the place he was.
However, I was pretty damn annoyed by the fact that I kept comparing him to Sterling when I should have put that annoying wolf out of my mind the second I walked away from him.
At the end of the night, Chet picked up the check and walked me out of the restaurant, his hand light on my back in a gentlemanly manner. I let him walk me to my car and place a sedate kiss on my cheek before he gave a little wave and walked away.
He did not ask for a second date.
I stood there for a moment watching him walk away before I sighed and got into my car.
Those cats were looking more and more like a viable option for me.
Nine
Sterling
It had been two days since I'd gone on the date from hell with that weird vegetarian vampire. Two days since my thoughts had been my own. I wasn't even sure what the hell was wrong with me. Why was I obsessing about her bright clothing and her even brighter hair? And why in the world was I wondering if she'd found her soulmate yet? It certainly wasn't me.
I'd rescheduled my other date for this evening because I hadn't been able to concentrate on much of anything other than Maron Archer. The file on her lay taunting me on my living room table. I still hadn't been able to pick it up and read it.
Part of me felt like I'd really screwed up. The other self-serving part felt like I'd dodged a bullet. I wasn't the kind of guy who believed in all the soulmate nonsense, even though I had seen it first hand. It just seemed too far-fetched to believe one person could make me become the best person I could be. Also, I didn't think for a second that I'd ever meet someone I was so attached to that I wouldn't be able to live without them. Call me a cynic. It didn't matter. Right now, Maron was probably out gallivanting with the man of her dreams and I was about to meet the woman who would stay out of mine. Provided I could keep her content with a monthly allowance and she didn't talk that much, it was quite possible I'd be married within six months time.
As long as she didn't have red hair.
I growled at my thoughts as I got dressed. I was already behind this evening and if I wanted to make it on time, I'd have to pick up my pace substantially. I'd allowed the woman, Cherry, to pick out a restaurant. She'd chosen the most expensive place in Midnight Cove. So apparently my machinations of having a quiet, gold-digging wife were right on schedule. I'd already made sure my finances were in order and that there were accounts she'd never be able to touch. Divorces in Midnight Cove weren't common, but when Portia was involved in the match, they were unheard of.
She didn't like this, I knew it, but we had a deal and so far, it seemed like Portia was keeping up her end of it. I slid my feet into a pair of Italian loafers, grabbed my jacket and keys off the front table and headed out to meet the woman I might spend the rest of my life with.
She was blonde. Icy. Slim. And she had the humor of a wet dog. Which, to be perfectly blunt, was none. Though she did appear to have good timing. Whenever I made a joke, a smile would slide onto her face. Though calling it a smile seemed to be generous when what it actually was seemed to be more of a pained grimace. Amusement never reached her eyes.
She was perfect.
Cherry didn't speak much, though when spoken to, she pronounced her pedigree like she was being announced at a royal ball. She was a distant relative of the werewolf alpha here, though she spoke of him with a slight snarl to her lip. It was the most emotion she'd shown all night.
When I asked her what her hobbies were, she gave me a blank stare for a moment before she announced she liked to arrange cheese and meat on silver platters, but she didn't like to arrange vegetables because their texture was weird on her fingers.
My mother was going to hate her.
We were thirty minutes into the date. Our entrees still hadn't come and I was running out of things to talk about. This did not bode well for the next two hundred years of my life. I was almost envious of human's shorter life spans.
"So," I asked, "where do you see yourself in the next ten years?"
Cherry blinked her ice blue eyes at me. They were so light it almost hurt to look at them. Her hair was pale as well. She reminded me of a movie some of my little cousins used to watch with a witch who could turn everything to ice. I grimaced as I thought about the sister with the red hair. Damn it. Maron Archer was haunting me. Cherry could be that cartoon girl's sister, except her personality had all the sparkle of a clod of mud.
"I'm not sure," she said in her whispery voice. "I suppose I would be at home. Maybe thinking up a new party?"
"A new party?" I echoed. "Like political?" That was ambitious.
"Political?" she echoed back at me. "I don't know what that means. No. For like New Years. Or Halloween." A genuine smile quirked the side of her mouth. "I love Halloween. I wear my French maid costume every year."
"Because you like arranging canapes?"
The smile widened. "I
love arranging meat and cheese trays."
"Right." She really was perfect for me. Especially since this is what I asked for.
My mother always told me to be wary of what I wished for because there was a possibility it would come true. Staring at Cherry, I was afraid my mother was right.
I blinked at the woman in front of me. This was better than anything Maron Archer would have offered me. I didn't even ask her what she did for a living on our one and only date. She was probably rich. Most vamps were. Cherry was a wolf, and she oozed money. Though she did have the hungry scent of someone looking for more of it.
Then she could buy more deli meat.
The waitress dropped off our food and I felt an overwhelming sense of relief that I wouldn't have to talk for at least the next fifteen minutes. I glanced over at Cherry's plate and saw only a small side salad, a tiny piece of fish, and a lemon wedge. I looked at my date. "Did they get your order right?" At least Maron's vegetable dishes looked like they had some flavor. Cherry didn't even have any salad dressing available to her.
"Oh yes," she said in her whisper-voice. "I eat this every single day. It keeps me trim and slim."
My mouth pulled into a confused twist. "Umm," I began before I stopped and really looked at her.
It was quite possible Cherry was crazy. "You do realize you're a werewolf, right?"
Her tinkling laugh echoed around me. It sounded like champagne glasses were breaking everywhere. "Oh yes, silly, but why would I risk gaining any weight by eating like our people do?"
I tilted my head. Was she for real? "Because we have the metabolism of basically a cheetah? We can and should, if I'm being perfectly honest, be eating on a pretty constant basis."
Was this why she was so damn pale? Tiny blue veins were present in her neck. Peering closer at her, I discreetly took a long inhale.
Cherry was possibly the first werewolf on the damn planet who was anemic. "Who taught you to eat this way?" I asked as I eyed my steak longingly.
"Oh we all do," she said like it was totally normal to be a complete freaking weirdo. My thoughts went back to Maron.
"So, is it because something happened with the genetics?"I asked hopefully.
A tiny little frown appeared in the middle of her brow. "Genetics?"
My hopes sank. "Yes. Was there a flaw that reduced or eliminated your craving for meat?" Except for on her fingers? What kind of person wanted to arrange meat, yet had an aversion to eating it?
"Goodness no!" she said and laughed her glass-breaking laugh. "We crave it all the time. It's about discipline, Sterling."
And iron deficiency, I thought. "Ah, I see," I said, though I did not see even a little bit.
"I'm so glad! I'm fifth-generation Pescetarian, though I only eat fish twice a week."
I took an enormous swig of my wine and, not for the first time tonight, I wished it was whiskey. "The rest is salad?"
She nodded.
"So no beans or rice or anything like that?"
Cherry stared at me in horror. "All those carbs? Never."
I shut my eyes for a moment and my life sped past me in a slideshow of never ending salads and a thin Cherry raising waif-like children. I needed to shake myself out of this. This was what I asked for and this was what Portia had sent me. While I wasn't expecting all the weird food habits, I could tell just by sitting with her she would be a biddable wife.
But could I live with her raising our eventual children with her ridiculous food aversions? I had one more question.
"What about dairy?"
"As in cheese?" Cherry shuddered.
"Yes. Like Parmigiano-Reggiano. On top of angel hair pasta mixed with sundried tomatoes?" I didn't hate vegetarian dishes. I just liked them stacked with a big slab of meat on the side.
Cherry gave me a weird look. "I've never had a bite of pasta in my entire life."
Heaven help us all. This woman had never really lived.
I looked down at my plate and spent the next fifteen minutes quietly pondering my future. Cherry never spoke again. I was afraid of what I would do if she did.
I walked the odd sometimes Pescetarian woman back to her car and kissed her cool cheek. If I didn't know better, I would have thought she was a vamp. Though Maron seemed about thirty degrees warmer than this woman did. Once I got back in my car, I turned on the heater to ward off the chill in my skin.
Freaking Portia. I shook my head before I flipped on the radio, put the car in reverse, and drove home.
Once I made it to my apartment, I went straight to the bar above my kitchen island and poured myself two fingers of bourbon. Not even taking a moment, I kicked the drink back and felt the burn all the way down to my stomach. Cherry was the kind of woman I thought I wanted, but she was about as interesting as reading the back of a toilet paper package.
But I wanted boring. I wanted someone to leave me alone, but also appease my parents. I wasn't ready to settle down, but I certainly didn't want to be forced into some odd arranged marriage with an Italian family I'd never heard of. This was the easiest way to get them off my back.
I could not stop thinking about Maron, though. It had to be guilt over the way I treated her. Maybe if I apologized to her, it would get it all out of my system and I could better embrace the chilly world of Cherry and her dietary challenged family. It didn't even bother me that Maron was a vegetarian anymore. Not after seeing my date. Maron appeared to have no aversion to any foods other than bloody cuts of meat. Plus she had a weakness for dairy so that softened a spot in my heart for her. I couldn't imagine what would happen if I ate pasta in front of Cherry. She might go into shock.
I needed to buy that woman a fainting couch. It would probably get regular use.
I poured myself another drink and decided to just let this play out how it would. I'd gotten what I'd asked for and I was being a brat about it. I'd talk to the guys in the morning and see what they said.
My friends sucked. The second I walked into the building, they started grilling me about both of my dates. When I told them about the disaster with Maron, they perked up with interest. When I told them about Cherry, I'd expected them to perk up with even more interest, but both of them gave me disgusted looks and questioned me on whether she was really what I wanted.
"Of course this is what I want. I don't want to be tied down to someone who wants to know where I'm at or what I'm doing every second of every day."
Shaw opened his mouth to interrupt, but I held a finger up and continued. "I want to go where I want, do what I want, and spend what I want. I have no desire to be tied down to a woman."
"I don't think you know anything at all about women," Shaw said after I finished my rant.
Jeremy snorted with laughter. "Not that we have a lot of room to talk," he said with a wide grin. "We are both as single as the day is long. But we are also not complete idiots. If you decide to pursue Cherry, you're going to have a miserable life. A partner is someone you want to come home and talk to. Not watch pick at their unseasoned fish every single dinner for the rest of your days."
"She only eats fish two days a week."
Shaw's eyebrows rose. "She seems... interesting."
"Yeah," Jeremy chimed in. "Have fun with Elsa."
Shaw chuckled. "Elsa has a personality, at least."
"Anna would be way more fun," Jeremy said. "She's got a fire in her. Even spurned, she kept going. Plus," he waggled his eyebrows, "she's a redhead."
I cringed. "So is Maron. It looks horrible." But the words didn't ring true to me anymore.
Jeremy shook his head. "We both think this is a mistake. Listen, you don't have to end up with Maron. From everything you're saying, you don't even seem to like her. But look at it this way. At least you're passionate about her and your intense dislike. When you talk about Cherry, you seem strangely cold about the entire thing."
"Yeah, dude, invest in some heaters because you're bed is going to be really chilly if you have Miss Ice Queen sleeping in it."
"I
hate you both," I said. My gaze wandered over to the barista booth and I noticed the grumpy one was there again today. When she caught me looking, she flipped me a double bird. I laughed out loud and gave a nonchalant wave.
"I can't believe she hasn't gotten fired yet."
Jeremy shrugged. "She's entertaining and her line is busy all day. It's like people line up to hear her insult them."
"My kind of woman," Shaw said under his breath.
The mug Jeremy was holding slowed until it was right in front of his lips. "Seriously? You have the hots for the crabby coffee lady?"
"She's hot in a cult kind of way,” I said. “Like a rock star and a wicked witch copulated and had a freakishly smart goth baby."
Shaw blinked at me. "That was specific."
"But also true," I said. "Do you think she'd go out with you?"
My friend shook his head violently. "No. And don't you dare tell her. She's the kind of woman you admire from a distance. Get any closer and you'll get shanked."
I stared at him for a moment. "Shanked? Did you serve time in prison we don't know about?"
"She just looks like the kind of woman who'd carry something that was not originally intended for stabbing."
"Dude," Jeremy said, shaking his head. "You got it bad."
"But I don't have my parents breathing down my neck so I can afford to be slow about this."
"Yeah, well, you better not take too long. Something tells me she has trouble holding down a job." With that, I watched as the barista slowly poured someone's coffee out on the floor for annoying her.
"Anyone would be lucky to have her," Shaw said.
A bark of laughter escaped me. "Okay crazy. Let's talk about the storm. Anything new on that?"
And with that, talk of the weird ass barista faded away and we got down to the business of conspiracy theories. Not much else had happened since Jeremy had his ass handed to him by the clairvoyant, but there had been a couple of reports of property damage over the weekend. Nothing too major, but some people were reporting that it looked like a massive amount of people had been tramping around their yards, tearing out bushes, and damaging their landscapes. You would think something like that wouldn't go unnoticed, but no one had heard anything out of the ordinary. They'd just woken up to it.
