Midnight Valentine(34)

I want him to make that sound again.

“I suppose the good citizens of Seaside are all shocked to see you out of your coffin during the daytime, Dracula. Oh, wait, there’s one guy over there who isn’t staring at us. Must be a tourist.”

I turn to find Theo gazing at me, his eyes bright with laughter. This close, I can see that they’re not black like they appear from even only a few feet farther away, they’re a deep, rich brown, velvet dark as espresso, just as warm and inviting. But also filled with that indecipherable longing like a secret message waiting to be decoded. Waiting for someone to look close enough to see.

My heart skips a beat. I haven’t looked this deeply into a man’s eyes since my husband died.

I look away, toying with the fork at my place setting, fumbling it between my fingers because they’re trembling. Breathe, Megan. Just breathe.

After a moment, my phone chimes.

You okay?





I stare at my fingernails, which are in dire need of a manicure. “Stop being so observant. It’s irritating.”

Irritating is my middle name.

Tell me what’s wrong.





Uncomfortable, I laugh. “I just remembered this place has really awful food. I had some calamari the other night I still haven’t completely digested.”

He’s about to type something into his phone when the waitress reappears at our table side. She holds a pad and pen in hand, ready to take our order. Looking at me, she asks, “Have you decided?”

I haven’t even looked at the menu yet, so I go with my default food choice. “Could I get a Denver omelet with extra bacon on the side?”

She blinks, glances at Theo, then looks back at me. Her smile is uncertain. “Sure. And, uh, will you be having the key lime pie for dessert?”

I lift my brows. “Is it on special or something?”

She blinks again, looking nervous, then laughs.

I have no idea what’s going on, but the poor girl seems to be completely freaked out by Theo—who’s now sitting stiffly in his chair, staring at her in a weirdly challenging way—so I make an effort to move the conversation along so she can flee. “Yes, I’ll take the key lime pie. Thanks.”

She nods, notes it on her pad, then turns around and sprints off toward the kitchen before I can shout after her that she forgot to take Theo’s order. She never even gave him a menu, come to think of it.

Bemused, I watch her go. “Well, that was strange.”

Slowly, Theo turns his head and looks at me. All the warmth has leached from his eyes, his shoulders are stiff, his nostrils are flared, and his lips are flattened. His jaw is so hard, it could cut glass. He looks like he’s about to jump up and start screaming.

I lower my brows and level him with a look. “Sunshine. Do you recall our little chat about the mood monster? Because he’s making a reappearance.”

He stares at me, breathing erratically.

“The waitress will come back,” I reassure him. “We’ll get your order in. Don’t throw a tantrum, it’s a minor deal. Damn, you’re even crabbier than normal when you’re hungry.”

He swallows, then props his elbows on the table and drops his head into his hands.

People are beginning to stare again. I decide a change of subject is in order. “So did you hear the news about Capstone?”

Theo’s sigh is a giant gust of air that sends the paper napkin on his placemat flying.

“I’ll take that as a no. Let me fill you in.” I take my own paper napkin and spread it over my lap in case any more dramatic sighs might be forthcoming. “So there was that storm last night, right? All that thunder, lightning, stormy stuff? Apparently, a lightning bolt struck Capstone Construction’s headquarters in Portland, which caused a fire, which burned the entire building to the ground. No one was hurt, but the place is toast. The video on the news was pretty trippy. Some other business’s security camera caught the whole thing. It was like Zeus throwing a thunderbolt from the sky—bam!”

I slap my hand on the table. Theo doesn’t move. Now people are really looking.

I should’ve moved to New York. You can act like a complete lunatic there, and no one even blinks an eye.

“C’mon, Sunshine, you’re gonna give me a bad reputation in this town, and I only just moved here. The way you’re acting, people will start a rumor that I made you cry over breakfast.”

He turns his head a fraction, peeking out at me from between his fingers.

I send him a big smile. “I usually don’t make men cry until lunch.”

Radiating annoyance, he leans back into his chair, slouching like a surly teenager. He grabs his phone and starts to stab his thumbs over the keyboard.