Eddie’s eyes twinkled in a way that might have little to do with the wine. “You’re biased because you like snacking on me.”
I guffawed. “Snacking?” Pointing a finger at him, I leaned over the table. “Anthony isn’t biased at all, and he talks about you in superlatives.”
His mouth turned down at the corners. “Because he doesn’t know about this.” He gestured between us.
I grabbed his hand. “Eddie. You know just as well as I do that neither of us has done anything that would negatively affect any of our clients or coworkers.”
“Still.”
I exhaled, about to protest, but Eddie waved a hand in the air as if chasing away a nonexistent insect.
“Forget I said that. I don’t want to talk about that at all. In fact, tonight, I want to forget that there’s anything outside this little village.”
He pasted on a smile again.
“We can do that. But we can also talk about how to make this work.” I squeezed his hand. “And I really want to make this work.”
He suddenly appeared perfectly sober. His gaze dropped to my lips, then back up to my eyes. “After,” he said. “Let’s not go there tonight.”
Why? We only had to agree on a few rules. The chances that we would bump into someone from work here, for example, were nil. Nobody would ever find out about us unless we told them. But he didn’t want to discuss it tonight, and I’d respect his wish.
He didn’t move his hand away, so I stroked his fingers as he glanced around.
“Do you want a dessert?”
I smiled. “Always.”
Eddie smacked his forehead. “Why do I keep forgetting that?”
Chuckling, I brought his hand to my lips for a light kiss. “Doyouwant a dessert?”
“Not really.” He blushed beautifully. I could just imagine how the change of temperature on his skin would have felt against my palm or my lips.
“We can take a walk along the beach.”
“I’d love that.”
We left our shoes on the boardwalk and trekked through the sand. After the sunny day, it was still warm under our feet. I kept an eye out for anything Eddie could step on, like sharp shells or random trash that could have been washed up, but the beach was pristine.
“I always thought that the ocean was terrifying at night,” Eddie said. “It feels even bigger somehow, this infinite dark depth.”
I gazed at the gentle waves. “For me, it’s the opposite. I can only go swimming at night. With the sun in my eyes and all the reflected light, I’d be nearly blind during the day.”
“How does it look for you now?”
“Really, really blue. All shades of blue, from almost turquoise to indigo.”
“Wow. I wish I could see that.”
I pulled out my phone. “Give me a second. I’ll find you something.” I searched for an artist’s name and pressed on images, then I showed the screen to Eddie. “This painter was a vampire.”
Eddie grabbed the phone and leaned closer. “Those are incredible! How come I’ve never seen these?”
“He’s not well known. Just a local guy who mimicked French impressionists but with vampire color vision, painting landscapes and the ocean. The art isn’t anything that would get him recognition or a spot in a major gallery, but if you want to see how vampires perceive color, this is it.”
He scrolled and clicked to enlarge an image of a bright sunrise, the painting nearly all white with angry glares and burning edges. “Is this how you see the sun?”
“More or less.”
