I pause for a moment, letting her words sink in.
Then, leaning back in my chair, I reply, my voice low, the air between us thick with unspoken thoughts.“Maybe they like it that way.”
Her eyes flicker, the weight of my words lingering in the space between us.For a brief second, it feels as if something bigger is at play, as if we’re talking about more than just dragons and vampires.But then she takes another chip, breaking the tension, and I wonder if maybe that’s how the myths survive—by remaining just out of reach.
Her eyes meet mine.“Well, if you see one, let me know, and I’ll come running.You’ll protect me, right?”
Her words catch me off-guard, but the way she says them, the challenge mixed with trust, stirs something in me.My heart beats a little faster, a sharp kick of something protective rising in me.
I nod without hesitation, my voice low and steady.“With all that I am.”
The weight of that promise hangs in the air, and I can tell she feels it too.It’s more than just a lighthearted exchange now, more than just words tossed back and forth.I would protect her no matter what.But this woman knows nothing about me.Hell, we’ve only met three or four times.
How can I be so certain about her?
It doesn’t make sense.I’m not the type to throw around promises, but when I look at her and hear the hint of vulnerability beneath her words, something shifts.Maybe it’s the way she doesn’t hide who she is or the way she’s not afraid to call me out or make me laugh.Maybe it’s that I simply want to keep her safe.
I shake off the thought.
Not now.
Reaching for a corn chip, I scoop up some of the chili and pop it into my mouth.It’s hot, spicy, with just the right amount of heat.To my surprise, it’s really good, so much better than her mis-happen cookies.
I can’t help but grin as I swallow, looking back up at her.“Not bad,” I mutter, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.“Definitely beats the cookies.”
She gives me a playful look, though I catch the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.“Yeah, I guess I’m better at chili than baking,” she says with a chuckle.
“What do you do for work?”
She looks up from her plate, her eyes meeting mine, a little spark of something in them.“I’m a bookkeeper.”
I nod, processing her answer.“And you do that from here?”
“Yep.All I need is a good internet connection,” she says with a shrug.“Most of my clients I’ve never met in person, but we do Zoom meetings from time to time.”
I lean back in my chair, curious.“Does it pay well?”
She laughs, a sound that’s light and easy, and nods.“I do okay.Once COVID hit, people were more open to remote workers, and I’d had enough of the nine-to-five grind.COVID was good for me.”
There’s something in the way she says it, as if she’s learned to make the most of things, to take what life throws her, and find a way to thrive.
I nod, impressed.“Sounds like you turned a bad situation into something good.”
She gives a quick, almost sheepish smile.“I try.”Then, she sips her drink, and for a moment, it feels as though the conversation shifts to something more personal.“Did you get COVID?”
With a quick shake of my head, I respond, “No.I don’t get sick.”
Her eyebrows furrow, a bit of curiosity in her gaze.“Ever?”
Shrugging, I try to keep the mood light.“No.”
Hannah’s gaze lingers on me, the silence hanging heavily between us before her expression shifts into something I can’t quite read.
The need to explain, to make sure she doesn’t misunderstand takes over, and I say, “The key, for me, to good health is to eat well, train, and keep to myself.I’m just lucky, I guess.”
She doesn’t respond immediately.Instead, she nods slowly, her eyes still on me as if measuring my words.
Then she shifts in her seat, her tone softer now.“More like blessed.I got COVID twice, and the second time, it turned into pneumonia.I never went anywhere.Well, except to the grocery store, but I wore a mask.”
