Page 3 of Santa's Wish
"You'll have to take a number. I saw him first." I had no intention of following up on my claim, but this asshole didn't need to know that.
To get him out of the bar, I clamped down harder on his arm and dragged him across the empty dance floor to the door. "Have a good night!" I smiled and shoved him out the door, activating the wards with a flick of a switch.
The guy charged what looked like an open doorway and bounced back with another hiss. "You'll wish you hadn't messed with us, worm."
I closed the door in his face while pondering, "Which is better, whore or worm?"
My sire had called me a worm, back in the day. This was the first time anyone had dared since I killed him. The knowing glint in the vampire's gaze set me on edge, too. I didn't know him from anyone, nor did I want to.
In the staff dressing room, I showered and changed into jeans and a Grinch t-shirt. When I walked back through the bar, our lone human customer still sat where my friends had been earlier, both elbows on the bar counter.
I zipped up my pants and sauntered over. "Closing time," I said. "You have somewhere you need to be, sweetness?"
Even before he turned, I could smell his breath. The virgin with the poofy curls and glasses had smelled like piña coladas earlier in the night. He still did, now stifled with a heady mix of gin and tonic and rum and Coke.
"They fucking left me here," he said. "I've called them nonstop, but they won't answer, and all my texts are on read."
"I have a car," I said, "and I know my way to Cambridge, if you want a ride."
He looked me over again. This time, he was a little less haughty, but still nowhere near trusting. "You're a vampire."
"You're an asshole," I replied, "but I'll still drive you home."
"You won't try anything?"
"The way I see it, your money left with them. Is that right?"
He nodded.
"Nothing happens unless I get paid." That wasn't what I'd offered earlier, but hey, turn me down, shame on you. "You're safe."
"What about blood? How do I know you won't take a drink from me on the way?"
I laughed and turned to Jameson, the bartender. "How does he know I won't drink from him?"
"Well, you've drunk blood tonight, on the house."
"If it will make you feel better, I'll stop at the drive-through before we leave town. We're not animals, kid."
"It's Boz," he said as he shoved his glasses further up his nose.
"Do you want a ride home or not?" I asked. I felt sorry for him, but he was grating on my last nerve.
"Yes, please."
The "please" did it for me. He was cute in that soft way humans had when they were pretending to be hard in the face of danger. The set of his shoulders and the fear smell beneath all that alcohol brought out the predator in me. Fear mixed with a hint of lust, I noticed as I took a step closer to help him off the bar stool. "My car's out back. See you tomorrow, Jameson."
'Not if I see you first," he said. "It's my day off." Normally, I would have bantered with him for another five minutes to see how he'd spend the day, and who with, but I wanted to get Boz home before it got much later.
"Nice car," he said when I opened the passenger door for him. "Vintage."
"I bought it new." I swung the door shut, and he almost banged his nose on the glass as he stared at me in disbelief. It was a 1966 Chevelle with more miles on it than any American-made muscle should have, even though I'd never driven her out of the state.
"New?" he asked when I slid into the driver's seat. "This is a 1966!"
"What part of vampire is confusing to you? My 200th birthday is coming up in a few months."
"Two hundred." Boz whistled. "I thought vampires were supposed to have their shit together by now." He flinched. "I mean, the car is awesome, and?—"
