Page 60 of Zombies, Satyrs and Vampires, Oh My!

“I’m Mark,” he says, pointing to his chest. “This is Pete and John.”

“Mr. Wells sent you? Here?”

“Yes ma’am,” Mark says. “We have a new desk and office chair to install for you.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t request⁠—”

“Yes, he said as much. But he sent a letter explaining everything.” Mark holds out an envelope to me. “You can get started, I guess. But please don’t let the cat outside. He’s not much of a runner, but sometimes he gets a little sassy.”

They nod as I sit on my sofa to open the envelope.

Dear Ms. Breit,

I read a recent study about the negative effects of computer work on a person’s back and hips. It would not sit right with me if I were the cause of such injuries to your body. So, I’ve sent the guys with a state-of-the-art desk that can easily transform from a sitting to a standing desk. The chair you’ll find is ergonomically designed. Please let me know if you need any additional supplies.

Sincerely,

H. Wells

There’s not a tremendous amount of room in my duplex so I hope the pieces aren’t too big. I show the guys where to set it up and they readily go about moving my makeshift desk out of the way.

Two hours later, the guys have finished putting together my new desk and chair. I send the guys off with my thanks and feel terrible that I didn’t have any cash to tip them. But they assured me they’d been paid well for the job.

The conversion from sitting to standing happens with just a press of a button. And the chair is so comfortable, I think I could sit here all day.

As if he inherently knows what I need, he sent me this desk. Because I can’t sit all day. The scar tissue on my back would never allow for that. So I’m often sitting, then standing, then lying down just to keep from pain. I’ve never told any of these things to Mr. Wells, but he knew just what I needed.

This is definitely not going to help with the ridiculous crush I have on him.

Yep, I’m a walking cliche. I’ve fallen for my boss. We’ve never even met face-to-face, but that doesn’t stop my heart from racing as soon as I hear the video chatting ring from my laptop. Or even just his name popping up on my phone with an incoming text. I am ridiculous. I do realize this.

He’s probably married. I haven’t asked.

Which I should definitely not do because he is my boss and his marriage—hypothetical or real—is none of my business.

chapter

five

Hudson

The package came hand-addressed and taped up. Seeing her loopy handwriting, a little smeared, feels intimate somehow. I rub my thumb across my name as if I can capture part of her in the pen marks.

Fuck, I’m getting dramatic in my old age. I don’t even bother trying to do the math to figure out my literal age. That’s the single perk about being a creature of the night. You stop aging. You’re locked in to where you were the precise moment you were turned.

So I guess I don’t look a day older than my thirty-two years.

I slice open the tape and open the box. I don’t even remember the last time I got a package like this. Not a package per se, because I get most of my items that way, but this, a present for me.

I’m in so much trouble with this woman. Last night I looked at her application and discovered she’s barely twenty-three. She’s so beautiful, so sweet and so damn perfect, she’s turned me into a fucking old-man creeper.

There’s a folded piece of notebook paper on top so I grab that first and unfold it. My eyes are greedy as they eat up her words.

Dear Mr. Wells,

Seriously, your generosity seems to know no bounds. I am so grateful. I have some health issues that complicate some things for me, and this desk is absolute perfection! Exactly what I needed.

I know a return gift isn’t necessary since you’re my employer and simply buying things that would normally be available in a regular office setting. But I wanted to acknowledge your thoughtfulness.