Chapter 12
In tradition of a true Scotsman, Joseph dressed for the wedding in a kilt and dark formal jacket.
It was quite the visual treat, opening the door to discover him decked out to the nines.
He looked fantastic. I had no doubt that I was grinning like a loon as I stood there admiring his splendor.
I’d never been on a date with a man wearing a kilt before .
. . Not that it was a real date, I quickly reminded myself.
Still, hot damn. Joseph was doing all kinds of wicked things to my lady parts. Though I’d already scolded my vagina to behave—sometimes it really did feel as if it had a mind of its own—I figured there was no harm in appreciating a little vampire sexiness, right?
Joseph’s locks had been tamed with a light application of product. It was still slightly unruly, finger-combed into a style I thought of as urban rugged. Yet again, I was wondering what it would feel like to grab a handful of his hair in my hands.
He smelled good, too. Masculine and sharp: mint and cognac mixed with leather. It was how I imagined handmade cake soap from the days of yore smelling straight out of the wrapping paper.
My mind up to no good, I pictured Joseph surrounded by lush greenery in the Scottish Highlands during his human days, as if written in a historic romance novel . . .
Cloaked in ethereal mist, Joseph bathed in an iridescent loch, using a brick of cake soap to lather away splatters of mud from his chiseled torso.
Submerged to his hips, the water offered a view of dark hair that trailed downward from the lowest point of his navel, pale skin turning rosy as he splashed himself clean.
Along the shoreline, a trusty stallion whinnied for his master.
The Scotsman called to his beast in a lovely singsong voice, receiving another exasperated cry.
Grinning, Joseph dipped his hair under water and then tossed his head back, rainbow-colored droplets spraying from his crown.
He swaggered toward the shoreline, his lower half becoming more visible with each step, water trickling down, down, down—
“May I come in?”
Joseph was studying me like he suspected I’d been huffing glue prior to his arrival.
I could hardly blame him. Maybe I should have dulled my senses—with a little bubbly, though, not glue—since being sober was prompting me to behave like an alley cat in heat.
Sure, blame your sobriety. The fact that the vampire is sex on a stick has absolutely nothing to do with it.
“Yes, I’m sorry. Please, do come in.” I stepped aside, biting the inside of my cheek.
I led Joseph, as I’d done during his last visit, to the kitchen and offered him a glass of blood. I yelped when he pulled a chair back from the table and it screeched against the floor, nearly dropping the carafe of blood I’d pulled from the fridge.
“Sorry,” he apologized, though he was smirking. My edginess seemed to amuse him.
And just why was I so edgy? I wondered.
Robert was why, I realized, doing my best to keep a frown from darkening my face. Ridiculous as it was, I almost felt as if I was cheating on him.
Mentally, I gave myself another tongue lashing. He was the one who left, remember? Kind of hard to cheat on someone who dumped you.
Days had passed, and still no call, text, letter, or email from Robert. Nope, nothing.
Nothing other than a million dollars, that was.
I’d awakened each morning heartsick but optimistic, certain this would be the day he’d finally be in touch. Then, once I understood that Robert would continue to remain as much of a ghost to me as, well, an actual ghost, I’d scurry to the bathroom, nauseous. I was literally sick with heartache.
I’d even stooped to calling various departments of Bramson Enterprises as a means of sniffing him out, lest he’d warned his personal assistant that I might be calling. However, no matter who answered, I was always told the same thing. Mr. Bramson was “on vacation.”
Vacation. Right.
More pitiful, I took my phone with me everywhere, even into the shower.
I sealed it in a plastic bag and kept it within groping distance, fearful that I’d miss his call.
My heart seized every time the phone bleeped, and sometimes when it didn’t, making me wonder if I might be losing my mind after all.
Usually, it was Liz calling to update me on her home situation. David, unlike Robert, had at least been man enough to provide tangible proof that their relationship was officially over: divorce papers. Poor Liz was devastated.
Shifting my focus to the vampire in my—Robert’s—home, I reminded myself there was no need to be nervous, since I had no intention of making a move romantically.
Joseph and I were merely one acquaintance providing another company at a wedding, since otherwise I might have been shuffled to the singles table with other lonely hearts and undesirables.
Besides, it benefitted me to keep the VGO happy, which Joseph had said he’d be if I acted as his “date.” There was nothing wrong with practicing a little self-preservation, was there?
You can tell yourself whatever you need to, my inner critic heckled. But don’t act like you aren’t enjoying spending time with this highland hottie.
“Put a cork in it, already,” I muttered as I put the carafe of blood back inside the fridge.
“Pardon?”
I set the glass of blood I’d poured in front of Joseph, whose eyebrows were so high on his forehead that they nearly reached his hairline. Given how stellar vampire hearing was, he’d likely heard me. I appreciated that he had enough tact to not call me out on my crazy.
Flapping a hand, I lied, “I said it’s cold tonight, isn’t it?”
“Aye, it is a mite chilly.” He took a sip of his drink. “You look stunning, by the way.”
Not to toot my own horn, but I thought I looked pretty damn good. At minimum, I felt good.
The wedding was a black-tie event, so I’d worn a pastel purple silk chiffon gown that swooped down around my shoulders.
I’d pinned my hair back into a loose bun and accessorized with simple emerald stud earrings (a gift from Robert, like the dress, but never mind) and a thick gold cuff bracelet.
Strappy metallic heels and a small crystal clutch bag completed the look.
I swirled for his approval. “You don’t think it’s a bit much?” I asked, playing coy.
He winked. “Sure, but why be a basic bitch?”
I laughed. Robert never would have used such slang.
“We’re going to an event with vampires, Olivia,” he said. “You might be one of the tamer individuals there.”
“You’re probably right about that.” I grinned. It was the most I’d smiled in days.
I joined him at the table with my own drink, champagne.
I told him that he looked nice, too, leaving out that his appearance had inspired fantasies of him naked in a lake.
We chatted about wedding specifics—attendance numbers, human to vampire ratio, etcetera—and then he asked what I’d gotten for a gift.
“It isn’t only from me. It’s also from Robert.
I guess,” I said, feeling the need to clarify the detail for some inexplicable reason.
Probably because he’d been the one to pay for it.
Had the gift been on my budget, Jerry and Tim would have been lucky to get a nice centerpiece bowl from Target.
“We got a marble replica of the Venus of Willendorf statue. Heard of it?”
“Busty gal with a kind of basket thing on her head?” Joseph reached up and patted at his hair like he was wearing a hat. Thankfully, he didn’t mime breasts.
“That’s the one. I was glad they used a gift registry, or else I would have had zero idea what to get them.
The original statue is just a few inches tall, but the one they registered for is massive, easily a few hundred pounds.
We had it delivered to their home last week because no way was I showing up at a wedding with a giant statue strapped to a moving dolly,” I said, and he chuckled.
I swallowed down a bubble of pain as I remembered how Robert and I had giggled at the strangeness of the gift.
Funny to think how different my life had been such a short time ago.
Had someone told me while we were picking out the statue that I’d be attending the wedding not only as a scorned woman but also with a panties-melting VGO leader, I would have said they had me confused for someone else.
“What did you get them?” I asked.
“A non-stick cookware set. I’m assuming it’s something Tim registered for.”
“Right. Because Jerry doesn’t eat human food.
” I prattled on, “Some people think gift registries are tacky, like the couple are demanding presents, but I prefer them. I’d much rather have somebody tell me exactly what they want, that way I won’t have to waste my time walking around stores aimlessly only to end up buying a present they end up returning anyway.
If I had it my way, all holidays would have gift registries: birthdays, Christmas . . .”
I fell silent, realizing I was rambling. If I didn’t shut up, poor Joseph’s ears would start to bleed. I tended to talk too much when I was nervous around a man I found attractive, and I hadn’t been this nervous since my first date with Robert.
Not that this is a date, I reminded myself again. Also, stop thinking about Robert.
Without my yapping, the house was uncomfortably silent. I considered putting on music, something I should have done prior to Joseph’s arrival, but I worried he’d think I was trying to seduce him like those cheesy guys in eighties movies did with soft rock albums that featured long saxophone solos.
I tapped my nails on the table. I hoped Joseph wasn’t bored. And then out of left field I hoped Robert was bored, because if he wasn’t it meant he was doing something enjoyable. With Serena.
“It’s a sporran,” Joseph said, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. He held up the pouch that was situated at the center of his hips.
I hadn’t realized I’d been staring at his crotch, but I guess I had been, since he’d pointed it out. He didn’t strike me as the sort of guy who’d go around making up stories about women gazing at his manhood.
Well, wasn’t that just great? I was a blabbermouth and a crotch creeper. Such a class act. Maybe next I could take Joseph into the bathroom and show him how I made bubble bath with my farts.
I took a sip of champagne as I considered how to respond. “Sorry I was gaping at your junk” didn’t seem appropriate.
The pouch, which I now knew was called a sporran, was adorned with soft white hair and tassels of the same downy material. I settled on, “What’s it made of? It looks so supple.”
“It’s horsehair.”
I reached out to stroke the hair, then reconsidered. Even though it was an innocent action, I thought Robert might not like me grabbing at another man’s groin.
I nearly flinched at my slip-up. I’d gotten so accustomed to being in a couple that doing right by my boyfriend had become an automatic concern.
Probably something I was struggling to come to grips with because I was still living in my ex’s home.
Not just living in my ex’s home but also heading out on a quasi-date with a powerful vampire I feared yet also found deeply sexy.
Ironic that I used to roll my eyes at people who said their love life was “complicated.” Now that I had a little romantic experience under my belt, I was starting to appreciate exactly how complicated love was.
I forced my lips into a smile. “It’s lovely, but is it functional?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your sporran. Do you put things in it, or is it only for show?”
Joseph opened the pouch and showed me his wallet, phone, and keys.
“Traditional kilts don’t have pockets, so it’s basically a place to put small items. Back in the day, they were used to hold coins and musket balls.
” He gave the sporran a shake, his eyes twinkling as he joked, “But don’t worry, I’ve left my musket balls at home tonight. ”
Man, I’d thought Joseph was beautiful earlier, but now his hotness was just obscene. His melodic voice, his big, strong hands, his teasing manner . . . I was beginning to worry that I wouldn’t be able to make it through the night without pouncing.
What was happening to me? My brainwaves were all over the place. I was either having filthy ideas about Joseph or worrying that I was betraying Robert.
I smirked. “That’s good to know.”
Once Joseph finished his drink, I put the tumbler in the sink and gave it a quick rinse—blood can be tremendously difficult to get off glass. I asked if he was ready to go. He was.
As Joseph helped me into my jacket, I said, “Thanks for coming to the wedding with me. I would have felt so awkward being there on my own.”
He smiled. “That’s the worst, isn’t it, being at an event where everyone has a date, and you don’t?”
Not that we’re on a date, I thought for the umpteenth time, though I was warming to the idea.