Page 6 of Dad Bod: Vampire

She bites down on her pen and twirls it in her mouth. I feel nearly positive she has no idea that is sexy as hell.

“Will this be how we are meeting from now on?”

“More or less. I’ll still e-mail and send voice memos when I don’t have time to meet face-to-face, but I think this will make things run more smoothly.”

“Yes. Excellent.” Her big brown eyes roll upward.

I’m enjoying her awkwardness immensely. “Very well,” I say, trying my damnedest not to smile. “Have a good day, Ms. Breit.”

“You too, Mr. Hudson. Uh, Mr. Wells. I promise I won’t be this much of a disaster next time we chat.”

“No promise necessary, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

chapter

four

Rosie

Nothing like being interrupted by the doorbell when you’re putting away groceries. There’s a delivery guy on my porch holding a box in one hand and a cellphone in the other. I open the door hesitantly because I’m fairly certain he’s at the wrong side of the duplex.

“Hi,” I say.

“Have a package for a Ms. Rosie Breit,” he says. “That you?”

I frown. “Yes, but I didn’t order⁠—”

“Sign here.” He holds his phone sideways for me to finger scratch my name across the screen. Then he hands me the package and walks back to his truck.

After closing the door, I stare down at the box. It’s definitely addressed to me, but there’s a stamp over the return address so I can’t even see who it’s from. Weird.

“Figs, did you order something while I was out picking up groceries?” My sleepy boy looks up at me with his perfectly green feline eyes and slow blinks.

I set the package down and force myself to go back into my tiny kitchen. I was in the middle of putting away my freezer items and I’ve got to get them up before they melt on the counter. Curiosity gnaws at me. I practically toss everything into the freezer, not caring if the ice cream carton is on its side or the pizza box is bent. I’m dying to see what’s in that sizable box that was delivered to my door.

I nearly trip over air on my way back to my sofa where I left the mystery box. Oh-so-carefully, I use the pair of kitchen scissors to slice open the box. It would not be the first time I stabbed myself simply by going too fast.

The first thing I see when I open the box is a smaller envelope. I pull out the note. It’s handwritten on fancy parchment-like paper. The penmanship is small and cramped in a decidedly masculine fashion. My heart thunders in my chest.

Dear Ms. Breit,

I’ve been remiss in sending you a proper work computer. Please let me know if this one is sufficient and if you need any other equipment. A more ergonomically correct chair? A printer? Whatever you need, I will expense.

Sincerely,

H. Wells

“Oh my gosh, Figs, I think he bought me a new computer!” I pull out the rest of the packing material to find a plastic-sealed box. It’s the latest compact power machine from Apple. My dream computer, if I’m being honest. But I was gonna be happy with a cheaper PC model.

“And let him know if I need anything else? Is he kidding?” I scratch Figs under his chin. “Can you imagine? Yes, please, Mr. Wells, buy me a fancy chair with a footrest?” I ask using a ridiculous accent.

“Could I have some scones and clotted cream too?”

I don’t know why I’m suddenly talking like Margaret Thatcher.

I immediately pull up my e-mail app on my phone and record a quick voice memo thank you to him.

“Mr. Wells! Your generosity is much appreciated. The computer was not necessary, but I’ll readily admit that the newer features will enable me to better serve you. And by serve you, I obviously mean in the purely professional sense. Oh, not that I’m that kind of professional. Yikes, I’m just gonna say a big thank you and leave it at that.”