Page 15 of Where the Blacktop Ends

I nod. “I was obsessed withTwilight. Wrote fanfiction. Had ahugefollowing on this old-school writing blog.” I clear my throat. “Also… I might’ve printed a chapter where I stole Edward Cullen from Bella and published it in my school’s newspaper.”

A long silence.

He blinks. “Did you use a pen name?”

“…No.”

His fingers press against his temples like I’ve given him an actual migraine. “So, you prefer bloodsucking men?”

“No, I mean—”

“Monster cock?”

I freeze. “What?”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “You heard me.”

I open my mouth—completely flustered. “I—um—yes. Yes, I do. Like taking monster cock.”

Oh my God. What am I even saying?

His lips curl into a smirk, and itdawnson me—he’s been fucking with me this whole time.

“None of that was relevant to this interview,” he says casually, leaning back. “It’s not something that would ever come up in a background check, or even if reporters dig into your past. Sounds like you were a normal teenager, obsessed with a cult classic.” He shrugs, jotting something down while I sit here,reeling.

I recover quickly, lowering my voice. “It wasn’t just an obsession. I wasgoodat writing. My fanslovedme.”

He lifts a brow. “Are you saying you peaked in high school?”

My jaw drops. “Idid notpeak in high school.”

He smiles. A real one. The kind that makes my stomach flip. His gaze sweeps over me, lingering a beat too long. “You’re right, you definitely didn’t peak in high school.” Suddenly, I feel self-conscious in my floral dress. I’d expected a formal meeting with an older man—a grandpa—notthis.

Why did I even bring up my vampire obsession?

Oh, right—because being near him is like standing in the middle of aconfusing stormof sexual tension.

And now, all I can think about is whether he’d be Team Edward or Team Jacob.

He shrugs as if this was a normal conversation, while I take a deep breath, trying tocompose myself.

Okay, think of five good things about him, I mentally coach myself.

One… he’s raising his two-year-old grandson.

That’s admirable. Must be hard doing that while also being a lawyer, political consultant and running for some sort of office position.

Two… um…

“What are you doing?” His voice drags me out of my thoughts, and I blink, realizing I’ve closed my eyes. He’s watching me, looking both confused and amused.

“I’m trying to think of five good things about you.”

His brows lift. “Why?”

“It’s what I do when someone’s being super rude, and I need to remind myself they’re still human and good at heart,” I reply, matter-of-factly.

He throws his head back in laughter, that same, deep throaty sound that I remember from the steam room. “I don’t think you could come up with five good things about me.”

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