Page 3 of Big Bad Single Wolf Dad

“Your door, milady,” the cabbie continues, looking at a passing couple in matching blue and white colors dead in the eye. “Top of the evening to the both of you.”

“You… too?” I hear the man say, looking over his shoulder curiously.

“Wish me luck,” I say before adjusting my gown. It’s probably best I do this here.

“You got this!” The cabbie runs around the idling yellow sedan and hops back into the front seat. He rolls the window down and gestures for me to get close. “Except right here.” He points to one of my black straps. “That part’s messed up.”

I fix the lace on the strap as he drives off, his tail lights glowing as he rounds the large driveway and heads back out of the property. I wonder what my dress looks like from the back and kick myself for not asking the man before he left. I tighten my messy updo, then walk to the front doors.

This is for charity, this is for charity, I remind myself over and over, just as one of my third-hand red heels slips out from under me. I look around and smile at the trio of bejeweled women approaching. They look at me kindly, if not knowingly. I’m fooling no one so far.

“Whoa…” I say as soon as I’m through the door and alone.

Well, alone in a corner by an impressive wall of thick greenery flecked with color. How many kinds of roses did the event planner have to buy? And did they leave any in the greenhouse?

“Let me guess,” a deep voice says from behind me. “You’re thinking, too verdant. Where’d the walls go?”

“Never,” I reply. Being a plant girl myself, with more green in her house than any other color, I’m impressed and in heaven. “Just wondering whose ego I have to feed to get a plant wall at my place.”

“That man would be over there,” a tall and handsome vampire says to me. I get the sense he’s studying my gown, maybe even my curves, but I’m too busy squinting in the direction he pointed. “Greg’s a good guy. For a werewolf. I’m Eric.”

He smiles my way, then hands me a glass of champagne. I grab it to be polite but don’t take a sip, too busy gazing at the gorgeous werewolf making his way through the crowd. I don’t know why I think of my kids at the moment. The two half-vampire younglings are most likely back at home, hellbent on staying up till I get back. Knowing Mia and Ethan, there’s a fifty percent chance they’ll do just that.

You can lead a kid to their bed, but you can’t make them sleep, rings in my ears as Eric asks me a question.

“Huh?” I manage as Greg glides ever closer.

“I asked what your name was.”

“Sarah.” I smile his way, remembering my manners. “So nice to meet you, Eric.”

I’ve always heard it’s particularly charming to hear your own name spoken by a stranger. His dark brown eyes glimmer, almost boring into me as his perfect teeth flash my way. I take a moment to note his dark blue three-piece suit. I’m sure it costs more than my car payment, though I keep the thought to myself.

“Is there a Mr. Sarah?”

“So where are you from?”

We speak at once, but only Eric laughs. I met my ex, Hunter, in a similar situation, except back then it worked. I look over and scan the vibrant green tendrils twisting up either side of the bannister, rather than share his reaction. Eric’s dark hair is immaculate, something Hunter’s never was. Still, I have enough vampires in my life.

Eric shrugs. “Kind of everywhere, but I’m particularly fond of anywhere with water.”

“Is that so?” It’s time for me to take a sip. Though the mother in me tells me not to take candy from strangers, the guest in me says free alcohol.

“Don’t worry,” he begins as soon as I bring what I think is a crystal rim to my lips. “Greg only caters the best.” Eric raises his glass and joins me in a sip. I smile as I savor the bubbles tickling the roof of my mouth. “So how about it?” he asks as Greg hands a woman in the crowd two glasses of wine.

Handsome and generous, my inner huntress says as I take another sip.

“Where’s your husband? Don’t tell me you don’t have one.” Eric takes another sip.

“Okay, I won’t.”

The words fall out of my mouth before I remember I’m supposed to be polite. I have this annoying habit of being sarcastic when flirted with. At least since Hunter left. Our five-year marriage and two human/vampire children are no longer his priority, leaving me embittered and overworked.

“Is that a no? A yes?”

I have to admit, Eric’s just as handsome when confused as he is when he smiles. Still, I find myself fighting the urge to tap the champagne flute with a fingernail. Why is he annoying me so much? I adjust my body weight to my left foot and grin up at him instead.

“Cheers to getting the kids in the end,” I reply.

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