“Um...” Martin tapped the top of his bottle with his index finger. “You’re a vampire?”
“I’m a bartender.” Cyrus glanced away and fidgeted with his towel. “Nothing thrilling.”
“I see.” Martin ran his thumbnail down the line of condensation on his beer bottle. “Candy told me all about you. Crazy. She seemed to think we’d hit it off.” He paused and drummed his fingers on the bar top. Fuck. He never should’ve listened to the bubbly waitress. She might know Cyrus, but the way to really get to know him wasn’t bluntness. Still, he couldn’t help but be drawn to him, vampire or not. “I think we might...hit it off.”
Cy’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.
In for a pound... “If you’re a vampire—it’s cool. I’m not looking for status or a one nighter. I’d like a hot time with a hot guy, absolutely. A glass of wine, good conversation...”
“Hot sex?” Candy elbowed in next to him and nodded to Cyrus. “He wants hot sex, he’s just being a doofus and not saying it.”
A crimson flush crept across Cyrus’ cheeks and down his neck. Although Martin wanted to wrap his hands around Candy’s pretty little neck and wring it, he couldn’t help but smile at Cyrus. The blush was so sexy. Yeah, he did want hot sex with Cyrus and damned soon.
“I’m needed down at the other end of the bar.” Cyrus dipped his head and scurried away.
“Thanks, Candy. How sweet of you. I was making progress.”
“Bullshit,” she snorted. “I saw you. You’re so screwed.”
“No, I’m not.” Angry, more than a little. She had such timing.
“Seriously?” She leaned one elbow on the bar and leaned into him. “Good advice? Good wine? Just say what you freaking mean. You want to go into the office and suck him off.”
Okay, she kind of had him there. Just not in quite such blunt terms. “I thought I’d use a little more finesse.”
“Finesse blows.” She snorted and glanced out over the dance floor. “Look, it’s almost two am. Last call should be...” she pointed at the DJ.
“You know what time it is folks, Last Call.” The DJ waved his hands in the air. “Get those last drinks ‘cuz the bar closes in exactly ten minutes.”
Candy grinned. “See? Right on time.” She leaned in a little closer than Martin wanted and whispered, “He takes exactly twenty minutes to clean up—OCD, I swear. Be here at 2:20 sharp.”
“Candy.”
“Offer him a ride. He always walks and why? He can kick almost everyone’s collective ass. And, no, he doesn’t know I know about him being gay and a vampire, but I’m telling you, a woman knows.” She tipped her head and ambled away into the gyrating group of dancers.
Martin peeled the edge of the label on his beer bottle and thought about her words. It had been quite a long time since he’d had anyone to talk to. Even longer since he’d been in a relationship he enjoyed. He placed money on the bar and strolled into the crisp night air. He had a little less than half an hour to make up his mind.
Stay or go.
He plopped down behind the wheel of his Beemer and scooted low in the seat. He thought about Cyrus. With other men, Martin had no troubles. They saw his blue eyes and crooked smile and the deal was sealed. With Cyrus? No dice. The guy scared him. Was it the vampire thing? No. It was Cyrus, so damn skittish. What was he afraid of? Who hurt Cyrus?
Martin drew a long breath and let it out slowly. He wanted to do this right, despite Candy’s advice. Cyrus deserved honesty and the best Martin could give him. He climbed out from behind the wheel and headed back into the bar.
He’d listen to a little of Candy’s advice.
But just a little.
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