When I got within an arm’s distance, Connor gently took my hand and yanked me down on the couch to join him.
For a second my instincts warred within me to resist but Connor was my friend, so the impulse cleared in a moment, and I let myself collapse on the couch next to him.
“Cheer up. It’s still an improvement.” Connor held up my clasped hand, rotating it, as if he was admiring the freckles on my arm—though it was possibly my veins visible through my pale skin that had his attention.
“Yeah, I was just hoping if I went for something easy like this, I could share it with our neighbors.” I tugged my hand from Connor’s grasp so I could start a text message to my Great Aunt Patsy.
“I think you can still share it,” Connor said. “You just have to choose your audience carefully.”
“Who would be the ideal audience?”
“Old people,” Connor said without hesitation. “Particularly nice, old people. They’ll be touched you took the time to make something and thought of them. Also, they’re less likely to notice the lack of flavor.”
I pressed my lips together and considered his suggestion. “That might actually work. Give me a second, I’m going to text my aunt to ask her a question about the recipe.”
Connor fell back into the couch. “Is your aunt an O’Neil?”
“Yep.”
Connor chuckled for some reason—vampires laughed at a lot of things randomly; I suspect it came with the age—but I ignored him and typed away.
Hi Patsy. I have a question about your Party Mix recipe—this is it, right?
I attached the image of the recipe card Nan had sent me when I’d asked her for the recipe last night, then set my phone aside.
“How’s work been?” Connor asked, an amused slant in his eyebrows.
“Fine.”
“No violent visitors?”
“Nah.” I said, trying to keep things vague.
“I never knew desk jobs were so perilous before I met you. Ah—now that’s an idea! We should celebrate that you haven’t gotten hurt in the line of duty recently.” Connor’s red eyes glittered with amusement.
“I don’t get hurt that often.” I kept my tone light and unaffected, but I was aware I’d need to change the subject soon—Connor’s questions were getting a touch too prying.
Thankfully, my phone dinged with a reply from Great Aunt Patsy.
Great Auntie P.
Ohlass no!
Aunt Patsy’s poor eyesight meant she didn’t always correctly hit the space bar, so it made deciphering her texts a little tricky.
Great Auntie P.
That’sthe recipe Igave yourgrandmother!She’d die if I toldher the realone. Double the butter andadd an extra splash of worcestershire!
If you really want it totasteright, addmore than doublethe butter.
I swiped back to the recipe card Nan had sent me. “Wow. That is a lot of butter.”
“Has the knowledge been successfully passed to the next generation?” Connor asked.
“Yeah. I think so. But I have to get rid of all this Party Mix before I make another attempt.” I scraped myself off the couch and dragged myself back over to my kitchen, pausing to get some plastic bags.
Connor took over the space I’d vacated, stretching his long frame out on my couch. “How unfortunate.”
I tested the mix; it was still a little warm, but in another minute or two I’d be able to bag it. I got a marker out and started labeling my bags.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked Connor as I wrote Party Mix on each bag in big, bold font.
“You’re not going to swindle me into trying one of your health smoothies.” I couldn’t see him from this angle, but Connor’s smooth voice drifted over to me—dripping with disgust.
I shook out one of the bags, testing to see if the marker had dried. “Nah, I bought you some blood packs. Do you want one?”
Connor snapped upright so fast it mussed his dark hair. “You’re keeping blood here? In your apartment?”
“Yeah.” I started labeling another bag.
“For me?”
He looked so surprised I looked up at him. “Yes.”
“You have blood in your fridge, for me.” Connor repeated, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You?”
“Yeah. But you gave me the idea—you pointed out that I didn’t have any vampire-refreshments the afternoon I hung out at your apartment.”
“But why?”
I started to shake out another bag, but this seemed important to him, so I set it back down so I could meet his gaze. “Connor, you’re my friend. I want things on hand that you’d enjoy.” I paused for affect, then added, “Even if you are picky as all get out.” I flashed a smile, pleased with myself that I could tease him.