Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Don’t forget about your sister, Calamity.
As if she would let him.
It was the intensity of his desire that shocked him most. He experienced arousal like anyone else, but he’d never confused it with necessity or, God forbid, love. He never believed a basic, physical reaction was more important than food, or air, or the old eighties movies he enjoyed watching in his spare time.
That wasn’t to say he hadn’t been sexually active. He was a rotten shit to admit to it, but he’d forgotten the names and faces of most of the people he’d slept with since he’d arrived in the states.
You wouldn’t forget Legs.
Maybe. But he genuinely believed that true love and passion were for people like William. Or his parents, may they rest in peace. They were the emotional, impulsive creatures who wore their hearts on their sleeves, sometimes to the detriment of the people around them.
Matthew had long ago decided to avoid that trap, and nothing life had thrown his way had changed his mind.
Was that why he hadn’t done anything about this guy yet? Because he felt something more than basic compulsion for the first time in his life? Because he couldn’t dismiss him from his mind, even when he tried?
Was he that much of a coward?
“I don’t have a thing for vampires, if that’s what you’re hinting at,” Rory muttered. “And who could blame me for the stripper comment after seeing those shorts? They’re practically a thong.”
Robert scowled at him. “I’m not looking at that man’s shorts, Finn, and you shouldn’t be either.”
“You don’t have to look at his shorts,” Matthew told him with a speaking look. “You could be looking on your computer instead, Nora. Then no one would have to guess.”
“He shoots, he scores,” crowed Rory. “Seriously, not to change the subject, but I love your mother. Nora,” he snorted, making Robert’s scowl deepen.
“You might feel differently if you were the only child out of seven named after a romance author instead of a famous literary icon.”
Rory pinged a small, cold potato at his chest. “She is an icon, and one of the most well-known authors in the world. Ask my Aunt Ellen. Maybe if you read a few of your namesake’s books, you’d have more luck with the ladies. Now put Matthew out of his misery.”
Robert flipped him off before leaning back on his stool and typing something into the laptop he’d set aside in order to eat. “His name is Garcia. Oliver H. I don’t know why you didn’t just hack in and find out for yourself. Your brother seems to think you’re some kind of genius in that area.”
Oliver.
“I have rules against messing with family,” Matthew told him.
“That explains it. But if you want more than that you can ask him yourself. The last thing we need is an invasion-of-privacy lawsuit before we officially open.”
“His name fits my story if anyone’s interested. Although the vampire is now a hungry orphan stripper with no one to love him.” Rory shoved the rest of the used paper plates back into the plastic bag he’d brought their dinner in. “Now why don’t you tell us what’s actually going on in that extra Irish head of yours, Matthew?”
His name is Oliver.
Matthew shrugged. “I guess it’s like you said, he doesn’t seem like he belongs here.”
“You genuinely think you’re being smooth, don’t you?” Rory’s blue eyes, so like his own, saw right through him. “You told me you thought your brother was nervous about the grand opening and you wanted to support him with a friendly visit while dropping off these leftovers for Robert. But I think you knew he wouldn’t be here.”
“He and Bronte are at their third-trimester dance class.” Robert’s mirth was evident as his gaze flicked between Matthew and Rory. “Then they’ll stop by my parents’ house for at least an hour, longer if William and the old man get to talking. It happens the same time every week, as Matthew is well aware.”
There was no point in looking innocent, so he didn’t bother to try.
“I’m going to want more information on that dance class, Robert,” Rory said. “For blackmail purposes.”
Then he crossed his arms and stared Matthew down. “Lying to a blood relative? The shame must burn. Meanwhile, Robert and I are trying to share a meal and swap sex stories, and you’ve hardly taken your eyes off sweet Oliver over there. You’re just curious? If I hadn’t heard all the gossip about what you’ve been up to at Owen’s old club, I’d think you were—”
“Okay, he’s interesting,” Matthew admitted. “A mystery.”
I want him. I can’t stop thinking about him. I feel like I’m losing my mind.
“A mystery you’d like to solve,” his cousin nodded sagely, as if he’d been expecting as much. “Like my three-pickle problem. Is that the kind of mystery you’re talking about?”