Nine
Sterling
It had been two days since I'd gone on the date from hell with that weird vegetarian vampire. Two days since my thoughts had been my own. I wasn't even sure what the hell was wrong with me. Why was I obsessing about her bright clothing and her even brighter hair? And why in the world was I wondering if she'd found her soulmate yet? It certainly wasn't me.
I'd rescheduled my other date for this evening because I hadn't been able to concentrate on much of anything other than Maron Archer. The file on her lay taunting me on my living room table. I still hadn't been able to pick it up and read it.
Part of me felt like I'd really screwed up. The other self-serving part felt like I'd dodged a bullet. I wasn't the kind of guy who believed in all the soulmate nonsense, even though I had seen it first hand. It just seemed too far-fetched to believe one person could make me become the best person I could be. Also, I didn't think for a second that I'd ever meet someone I was so attached to that I wouldn't be able to live without them. Call me a cynic. It didn't matter. Right now, Maron was probably out gallivanting with the man of her dreams and I was about to meet the woman who would stay out of mine. Provided I could keep her content with a monthly allowance and she didn't talk that much, it was quite possible I'd be married within six months time.
As long as she didn't have red hair.
I growled at my thoughts as I got dressed. I was already behind this evening and if I wanted to make it on time, I'd have to pick up my pace substantially. I'd allowed the woman, Cherry, to pick out a restaurant. She'd chosen the most expensive place in Midnight Cove. So apparently my machinations of having a quiet, gold-digging wife were right on schedule. I'd already made sure my finances were in order and that there were accounts she'd never be able to touch. Divorces in Midnight Cove weren't common, but when Portia was involved in the match, they were unheard of.
She didn't like this, I knew it, but we had a deal and so far, it seemed like Portia was keeping up her end of it. I slid my feet into a pair of Italian loafers, grabbed my jacket and keys off the front table and headed out to meet the woman I might spend the rest of my life with.
She was blonde.Icy. Slim. And she had the humor of a wet dog. Which, to be perfectly blunt, was none. Though she did appear to have good timing. Whenever I made a joke, a smile would slide onto her face. Though calling it a smile seemed to be generous when what it actually was seemed to be more of a pained grimace. Amusement never reached her eyes.
She wasperfect.
Cherry didn't speak much, though when spoken to, she pronounced her pedigree like she was being announced at a royal ball. She was a distant relative of the werewolf alpha here, though she spoke of him with a slight snarl to her lip. It was the most emotion she'd shown all night.
When I asked her what her hobbies were, she gave me a blank stare for a moment before she announced she liked to arrange cheese and meat on silver platters, but she didn't like to arrange vegetables because their texture was weird on her fingers.
My mother was going to hate her.
We were thirty minutes into the date. Our entrees still hadn't come and I was running out of things to talk about. This did not bode well for the next two hundred years of my life. I was almost envious of human's shorter life spans.
"So," I asked, "where do you see yourself in the next ten years?"
Cherry blinked her ice blue eyes at me. They were so light it almost hurt to look at them. Her hair was pale as well. She reminded me of a movie some of my little cousins used to watch with a witch who could turn everything to ice. I grimaced as I thought about the sister with the red hair. Damn it. Maron Archer was haunting me. Cherry could be that cartoon girl's sister, except her personality had all the sparkle of a clod of mud.
"I'm not sure," she said in her whispery voice. "I suppose I would be at home. Maybe thinking up a new party?"
"A new party?" I echoed. "Like political?" That was ambitious.
"Political?" she echoed back at me. "I don't know what that means. No. For like New Years. Or Halloween." A genuine smile quirked the side of her mouth. "I love Halloween. I wear my French maid costume every year."
"Because you like arranging canapes?"
The smile widened. "I love arranging meat and cheese trays."
"Right." She really was perfect for me. Especially since this is what I asked for.
My mother always told me to be wary of what I wished for because there was a possibility it would come true. Staring at Cherry, I was afraid my mother was right.
I blinked at the woman in front of me. This was better than anything Maron Archer would have offered me. I didn't even ask her what she did for a living on our one and only date. She was probably rich. Most vamps were. Cherry was a wolf, and she oozed money. Though she did have the hungry scent of someone looking for more of it.
Then she could buy more deli meat.
The waitress dropped off our food and I felt an overwhelming sense of relief that I wouldn't have to talk for at least the next fifteen minutes. I glanced over at Cherry's plate and saw only a small side salad, a tiny piece of fish, and a lemon wedge. I looked at my date. "Did they get your order right?" At least Maron's vegetable dishes looked like they had some flavor. Cherry didn't even have any salad dressing available to her.
"Oh yes," she said in her whisper-voice. "I eat this every single day. It keeps me trim and slim."
My mouth pulled into a confused twist. "Umm," I began before I stopped and really looked at her.
It was quite possible Cherry was crazy. "You do realize you're a werewolf, right?"
Her tinkling laugh echoed around me. It sounded like champagne glasses were breaking everywhere. "Oh yes, silly, but why would I risk gaining any weight by eating like our people do?"
