Just One Bite Read Free

the closet.”
    He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and my vamp instincts kicked into high gear.
    “Don’t tell me you have an actual skeleton hanging in your closet.”
    “Fuck no. What kind of guy do you take me for?”
    Relief rushed through me.
    “It’s in my sock drawer.”
    “Now about the— what ?”
    He shrugged. “And it’s not the entire thing. Just a femur and a few rib bones from my last were kill.” His mouth crooked into a grin. “I broke the standing were record with that one. Talk about a tough little sucker. I chased him a full two weeks before I managed to pump a couple of silver bullets into him. Dropped just like that. He was too big to fit into the trunk of the car—we’re talking were- bear —so I chopped him up and—”
    “As fascinating as this is,” I cut in, eager to ignore the preview of Pooh Meets Jason that played in my head, “I’d really like to get back to the, um”—I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat (we’re talking sweet, cuddly Winnie)—“questions.”
    “All right, but just so you know, I’m not used to being asked shit like that.”
    “I totally understand. Not all of the questions on this profile pertain to everyone. When you get to something that’s too far out, feel free to write non-applicable. I’ll just jot that down right here and we can move on—”
    “I wouldn’t be too hasty.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “A pink rhinestone thong with glitter appliqué,” he blurted. He must have noticed my surprise, because he added, “If I want this to work, I gotta be honest, right? Besides, it isn’t something I do every day. Only on Fridays. That’s the official SOB wear-what-you-want day. Monday through Thursday, it’s regulation boxers. White. Loose. While I stuff ’em in once a week, the boys are big and rowdy. They like to run free most days.”
    “I’ll, um, make a note of that.” I scribbled a few quick words in the margin (no, one of them wasn’t freak, but I was sorely tempted) before handing back the clipboard. “Just be as honest as you can.”
    He grunted and shifted his attention back to the profile while I turned to busy myself with the stack of mail Evie had left on the corner of my desk.
    At least the goal was to look busy and unassuming while Vinnie finished filling out his information. The last thing I needed was for him to change his mind and decide to off me right now.
    I rifled through the stack and separated everything into two piles—urgent and not-so-urgent.
    Electricity bill due in two weeks—not so urgent.
    Office space rent due in three weeks—not so urgent.
    Visa bill due in three days—not so urgent. (Hey, a lot could happen in three days. Brad Pitt could dump Angelina, walk into my office, demand my primo hook-up package, and offer to pay me a rush charge and a big fat tip. My parents could waltz in and tell me that I don’t have to settle down with a born male vamp and squeeze out several dozen grandchildren in order to get my trust fund. I could even win the lottery.)
    The fall catalog from Banana Republic—urgent.
    Register to win a year’s supply of MAC bronzers— way urgent.
    I tackled the registration card first, then flipped through the catalog. The bills I stashed in my top desk drawer with yesterday’s not-so-urgents—telephone, Internet, water. My night had already gotten off to a bad start. I wasn’t going to make myself even more miserable by paying my bills.
    Not that I couldn’t, of course. While I wasn’t anywhere close to eHarmony fame, I was holding my own. It’s just that every time I started to write out a check for something like, say, the light bill, I started to think about all the other things I could buy with my money—like, say, this totally cute Banana Republic hobo satchel with matching cellphone case— if the Founding Fathers had been the least bit intuitive and gone with “life, liberty, electricity, and the pursuit of happiness” instead.
    Get over it, already.
    I