Page 19 of Santa's Wish
I'd grownup on Americana and Italian restaurants, but Russian cuisine was growing on me with its heavy sauces and comfort foods. Irena was an absolute delight. She brought me sample after sample of wonderful food to taste.
True to her word, she didn't speak to us beyond asking me what I thought of the meal. Santa watched me eat, but he seemed distracted. My mind wandered back to Irena's words.
"He is depressed."
Santa's charisma stunned me every time he spoke to me, but even the most charming people could succumb to depression, especially after two hundred years on our struggling planet.
"Is everything all right?" I asked before shoveling aforkful of angel wings into my mouth. They were bits of fried sweet bread topped with a hint of sugar.
"I don't know." I'd expected him to blow me off with a bullshit answer, but he took the time to consider it. "She's not wrong. I haven't been around much lately. What kind of friend am I?"
"A busy one?" I asked.
"Maybe." He sighed. "I'm a horrible date, too. I apologize."
"The dancing and dessert make up for it." I grinned at him and shoved more angel wings in my mouth.
Santa was a great dancer. Not only that, but the way he held me, close but touching only my shoulder and hip, had me holding my breath, begging for a brush of his chest against mine. The anticipation made me sweat, but it also put me at ease in a way I'd never felt before. Santa's casual touches no longer made me flinch.
Once I'd finished my plate, Irena brought the bill. Santa insisted on paying and took it up to the front of the restaurant, leaving me to linger by the stairwell again. I could stare at the mural of interconnected images for hours.
A tap on my arm brought me back from calculating angles, signs, and cosigns among the designs. "Is it too cold to walk?"
It had been too fucking cold to fly here, orwhatever Santa wanted to call it. Walking was the far warmer option. "Not at all."
With his hand at the small of my back, he guided me from the restaurant. At street level, I recognized our location. We weren't far from the old courthouse where I'd applied for my job.
"Is this place open for lunch?" I asked.
"Irena's? Yes."
"Imperial Accounting is … all vampires? Why is it on the fifth floor?" I didn't know how to phrase my question, but Santa considered it like it made sense.
"Not all are vampires, but enough that the windows have sun shields."
"Sun shields?"
"They're like storm shutters, only on the inside."
"Sounds dark," I admitted.
"Couldn't say. Never been inside. I've been converting my apartment building with shutters, though. I should have converted yours while it was vacant, but you're human, so it can wait." Santa turned us down a street we'd traveled together several times in our short relationship.
"Blood Drive?"
"Yes," Santa grinned and wagged his eyebrows at me. "Unless you're offering."
I most certainly was not offering, but blood rushed to my face.
"I'm kidding," he said. "You're already shivering.We'll stop in, get you warmed up, and then I'll be able to keep you warm on the walk home."
It was chilly inside the shop. I sat at the table nearest the counter while Santa ordered. The scrape of my chair on the floor drew everyone's gaze to me. Vampires occupied the four tables by the front windows.
I swallowed my fear and tried to calm my breathing as I sank into the seat. I completely missed Santa's order, thanks to the pounding of my heart.
He moved the chair across from me without a sound, turning the back toward the table and straddling it. He raised his eyebrows at me and pointed to the chair. "Noisy."
"You look amazing tonight," I blurted. In the dim light of the restaurant, I hadn't noticed his suit's purple hue. Blood Drive's fluorescent lights made it shine and brought out the lavender flecks in his brown eyes.
