Chapter One Goldie #2
“Not broken is definitely good . . . great, even—”
I exhale quietly, trying to regain my cool, but his eyes stay locked on me, making me feel like when I was thirteen and saw Jesse McCartney for the first time.
That was my sexual awakening. Now, I’m thirty and wide awake. So, so awake. Insomnia-level awake.
He bites the inside of his lip, right at the corner, with just his canines, before he extends my phone and hits me with a full-watt smile.
And RIP to any common sense I had for my personal safety.
If this man wanted me to come see the kitten in his basement, I’d turn off my location and follow him there. Right now. Good god, he’s gorgeous.
I reach to take it from his palm, but his eyes dart to my hand.
“Three fingers were problematic before, so maybe . . .” He trails off.
“Huh?” I look at my hand, realizing I’m still wearing the costume thing over it. “Oh yeah. You saw that? Awesome.”
With an embarrassed huff of a laugh, I hurriedly tug off the hand covering with my teeth, shove the fabric back out of my mouth using my tongue, and let it fall to the ground.
But he catches it. Fuck. Why was that so hot?
I need to get it together. I’m acting like I’ve never seen a living man . . . albeit the most beautiful one ever to exist. Still, stop it, Goldie.
“Are you gonna make me do this all night?” he whispers conspiratorially, leaning in toward me and giving me my first dose of goose bumps. “I mean, I’m free, but . . .”
My nervous smile seems to cut him off because he stops talking and smiles back.
“No . . .” I reach out and take back my phone and costume piece, hoping for flirtatious and not weird. “Thank you . . . Noah, not Damon.”
“My pleasure . . .” He pauses, sliding a hand over his jaw before hooking it around the back of his neck. His eyebrows rise, and I realize he’s pausing slash asking for my name.
“Goldie,” I rush out, uncaring if I seem too eager.
“Goldie . . .” he repeats to himself like he’s trying it on for size. “I like that. So then, I guess it’s my pleasure, Goldie.”
He likes my name, so much so that he’s said it twice. I’m cooked.
I grin, feeling my cheeks burn, our eyes still deliciously locked on each other like there’s no choice in the matter.
You know in books when they say the air crackles between two characters? Well, we’re a fucking bowl of cereal. Snap, crackle, and poppin’ everywhere and all over the place.
Ask me for my number, ask me for my number.
Noah lifts his chin like he’s going to say something, making my pulse stall, sprint, and stutter. His lips part as he reaches for his back pocket, his eyes still burning into mine with a glint of amusement or bewilderment. I can’t tell.
All I know is that they’re like two crystal-blue lakes that feel deep and inviting.
God, this eye contact is so intense that I should consider purchasing a pregnancy test along with my sister’s blood. Oh shit. Evie!
“Crap. My sister! She needs blood.”
“Where?” he rushes out, looking over his shoulder, but I’m already spinning back toward the shelf, a bit more flustered than when I started this journey.
I look back over my shoulder apologetically while simultaneously grabbing all the tubes of fake blood. Instantly, I realize I don’t have a basket, so I just start shoving them down the neck of my costume, letting them fall all the way to my legs.
Screw it, I’ll sort it out at the counter.
“Sorry. Not here. At her apartment. I was on a time crunch because of the decapitated head. From the dead body she made . . .”
The smile on his face hasn’t left as he nods, even as he dives his hands into his front pockets and says, “Relatable. Um, soooo . . . okay.” He points at my now-bulging dinosaur ankles. “I guess I’ll leave you to your prehistoric shoplifting. It was nice meeting you.”
No. Damn. I was doing the flirting thing so well. I’m mid-grab when very unqualified words tumble out because I can’t let the guy let me get away. But what I’m doing, I don’t know. This is cool-girl territory. I typically belong to a different region.
Fuck it. I’ve already almost killed an old couple from shock, embarrassed myself plenty in front of the hottest man alive, and I’ll probably end up on YouTube, branded as a furry getting arrested for theft.
I literally have nothing to lose. I need to shoot my Jurassic shot.
I drop the last tube down the front of me and spin toward him.
“Hey, there’s this party if you wanna come . . . I mean, you did say you’re free. And I owe you for helping me out and all. Even though we’re complete strangers, serendipitously meeting in aisle nine of Walgreens.”
The look on his face is either wholly captivated by my charm or scared for his life, so I add, “Plus, you’re already wearing a costume.”
Neither of us even tries to hide our smiles as his eyes drop to his front because Noah is, in fact, wearing a jacket, jeans, and a T-shirt.
“We’re in aisle twelve,” he muses before rocking back on his heels. “You’re a strange girl—”
On any other day, I might be insulted, but he says it like it makes him more curious about me. And I’ll take it.
“—and honestly, it’s fitting that something unexpected would happen to me tonight.”
I shrug coyly, biting my lip. “So, I guess it’s fate, then.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he reaches into his back pocket again, pulls out his phone, and hands it over. I. Am. A legend.
“Put your number in?”
I can’t stop the cyclone of butterflies in my stomach as I stare at the screen, typing in my information before I return his phone. He taps it against his palm, his face mirroring what I’m feeling before he reads what I’ve entered.
“Rexy . . . ? Didn’t want to go with your name, huh?”
“Figured I’d cover my tracks just in case I got predatory later.”
He laughs before quietly sucking in a breath through his teeth, his eyes dropping over my costume. Noah gives a small headshake before he turns and speaks over his shoulder.
“Have fun, Goldie. Don’t get arrested.” He holds up his phone. “I’ll text you once I walk away—you know, so I seem cool and aloof.”
I swish-swish back a few steps, my legs heavier because of all the bloody tubes inside my costume. But as I watch him walk away, I can’t help myself, and I check out his ass. Nice.
The smile on my face grows because just as my eyes pop up, he glances back again, so I raise a claw, giving him a small wave, trying to act nonchalant and not like a perv.
“Yeah. I mean . . . I won’t hold my breath because I’m also aloof and cool. So, like, cool, whatever.”
Right on cue, I step on the stuff I knocked down earlier with my tail, tripping over my own feet before regaining my ground.
My hand slaps over my mouth to hide my giggle, and I smartly stand in place, watching him leave the whole rest of the way down the aisle until he turns the corner, out of sight.
Holy. Shit.
I can’t help myself. My hands hit my knees as I give a little celebratory dino twerk because I freaking hate Halloween, always have, but tonight might just be the best night of my life. I barely get that thought out before the ding hits.
With zero regard for cool protocol, I scramble to look so fast that there’s a decent chance I just gave myself whiplash. But it’s my sister, which makes me scowl. Still, I refocus and hustle to the counter.
Evie: Are you on your way because your location says no
Me: Shush. I’m busy. I just met a guy. Like a HOT guy
Evie: What!!!!! Did you get his number? If you say no, I’ll make sure to add chicken shit to your headstone when you die.
In answer to her question, my phone dings again with an unknown number, and a smile bursts out over my face. I shake my leg faster, scooping everything up off the floor to get rung up quickly.
I swing my head around, looking for him. But he’s nowhere to be seen, so I prop my foot up on the counter and motion with my eyebrows for the checker to grab the last of the tubes peeking out from my ankle as I swipe open the message.
555-565-8596: I have a problem . . .
I should play it cool. My fingers fly over the keys.
Me: You’re intimidated by my wingspan?
555-565-8596: Obviously. But I’m thinking I need a costume for tonight . . . seeing as nobody’s supposed to know I’m a vamp. This is Damon, btw.
That’s exactly how he’s going into my phone.
Me: Well, Mr. Salvatore. You’ve always been a problem solver.
I believe in you. Just don’t cover your face. I like that part. See you in an hour—550 Harrison St.
I hear him laugh from somewhere in the store, making me crane my neck to try and spot him one last time.
I’m smiling ear to flipping ear until I hear, “That’ll be $114.56.”
What the fuck!
My head darts up as my foot hits the ground. That’s highway robbery. But I pay using my phone and grab my bag. Pausing in the doorway, I look up into the theft mirror that’s on the ceiling. Noah’s staring back at me.
He lifts his phone, so I look at mine, not having heard the alert.
Damon: Are you stalking me?
Me: Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
Damon: See ya soon, weirdo.
This time, I do play it cool, breezing out like I’m the main character in a movie starring whatever actress fits that bill, and finally text my sister back.
Me: Add another plus one for your party. I’ve got a hot date.