Immortal Chocolate (a vampire novel)

Part 8

“Ollie, this is Iva, she’s the girl we wanted you to meet.”

Ollie had one of those faces—like—oh my god he’s so hot—type of faces. That didn’t really faze me, a lot of guys were good looking and thought I was their ‘one and only’.

“Hi, I’m Oliver,” he said with a deep voice, holding out his hand, his perfectly shaped eyebrows rising ever so slightly. He smelt interesting. Like a mixture of dog and human. I wished I could clear out my nose, because I think Bear Rug was still stuck in my sense of smell. I felt a tickle go up my nose.

“Achoo!” The room shook with my nasal explosion. Ollie looked at me like I’d just pooped on the floor, he recovered quickly though.

“God bless you.”

“Thanks.” I stared at him, not exactly impressed by anything in the least. Fish-Face gawked at me like I’d stabbed the poor guy.

“I’m Iva.” I went to offer him my hand, but then thought better of that.

“Can I buy you a drink, Iva?” he asked, with that sexy smile of his. I wanted to laugh thinking about how my friends wanted to set me up every other day. It was almost endearing, if it wasn’t so annoying. They had no idea that hooking me up with a human guy was downright stupid—if not mortally dangerous for the poor sap.

“Sure.” I made my way toward the bar, wondering why this guy smelled like he’d rolled in dog and human blood. He didn’t glow like a werewolf, so I’m pretty sure he wasn’t that.

“What’ll you have?” he said in a slight drawl, I don’t think the guy was southern though.

“Bloody Mary.” I laughed at my inside joke—I could care less for alcohol, but it seemed to make people at ease when I drank with them, so I did. Ordering this was a giant joke on him, but of course, he didn’t know a thing about what I was, or who I was.

“Alright, coming right up.” He leaned on the counter, flexing those ripley muscles again, obviously flaunting his stuff to me. I almost choked on my laughter. If he only knew, all of his poor efforts were a big, fat, giant waste of time.

After he ordered our drinks, he turned back around, scooting his perfect butt onto a stool. I kept standing, observing him with my keen eyesight. He wasn’t ‘perfect’ I could detect a few tiny flaws, but he was pretty dang close to it, so I gave him props.

“Casey said you own your own sweet shop. The little one on Main Street?”

“Yeah,” I said and took a sip of my drink.

“How long you been there?”

“Oh a while,” I answered with a light shrug.

“Hmm…” He gave me an endearing smile, obviously trying to pour on the charm. Sometimes I wish I had the ability to read a human’s mind—they were so petty and vain at times, it amused me. “Wanna go sit down?” He motioned toward a private booth, away from all the giggling drunk people who were watching us like we were an HBO channel.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” I was playing him, but I still wanted to know why he smelt like a mutt.

We cozied up in a booth, him on one side, me on the other, and entertained ourselves with our drinks for a few seconds.

“Not to be too forward, but your friends over there are expecting me to take you back to my house, I wouldn’t want to disappoint any of them.” He winked at me, and god I wanted to make fun of him. He was trying so hard it was almost sad, so just to humor the poor guy, I winked back.