If Roland was like that, too bad for him. He was going to go hungry.
She sighed and closed the oven door. Who was she kidding? No, he wouldn’t. She’d just fix him something else and be pissed about it.
“Would you like tea or water with it? The tea is decaf.”
“Tea, please.”
She smiled. Roland had said “please” and “thank you” more times in the hours she had known him than Tom, her ex-boyfriend, had in the entire last year they were together.
Carrying two glasses and a pitcher of iced tea over to the coffee table, she set them down, then went back for plates and napkins and finally the pizza.
Roland stared down at it as she sliced it. “That pizza is organic.”
Here we go. “Look, I know it doesn’t contain artificial crap, genetically modified organisms, irradiated vegetables, recom-binant artificial bovine growth hormone, pesticides, or other harmful chemicals, but if you’ll just give it a chance—”
“I don’t have to give it a chance,” he interrupted. “I eat this all the time. It’s delicious.”
As Sarah gaped at him in astonishment, he grabbed a goat cheese– and vegetable-laden slice and practically swallowed it whole.
Ho-ly crap! This man might very well be perfect! He was handsome, kind, brave as hell, loyal to his friends, fought bad guys for a living, and ate natural?
If he didn’t ask her out when the danger was over, she was damn well going to find a way to overcome her shyness long enough to ask him!
A second piece of pizza disappeared as quickly as the first.
“You know, I have another one of these in the freezer,” she said, trying not to laugh. “Would you like me to heat it up, too?”
“Yes, please,” he said as eagerly as a boy who had just been offered a piece of double-decker chocolate fudge cake.
Sarah gladly popped another pizza into the oven, then seated herself beside Roland again and, having eaten nothing since dinner the previous evening, dove into pizza heaven herself.
Roland, she soon learned, was even a sweetheart when he ate.
“Here, take this one,” he said as she finished her first piece. “It’s the cheesiest.”
He ate the pieces with crust that was a little too brown himself and saved the best pieces for her. Whenever the level of tea in her glass dipped, he refilled it. And he was fun to talk to. Now that they’d discovered they had something in common beyond the fact that both their lives had been in danger a few hours earlier, they chatted like old friends.
“Have you tried the baked waffle fries?” she asked him.
“Not only have I tried them, I am addicted to them.”
“What about soy ice cream?”
“There are three flavors in my freezer right now.”
“Tofurky?”
“Poor tofurky. It’s gotten such a bad rap.”
They both laughed.
Sarah even liked that about him. The deep rumble rolled up from his chest and seemed to catch him off-guard as if he didn’t laugh very often and was surprised to be doing so now.
It wasn’t long before both pizzas were gone, the pitcher of tea was empty, and the two of them were slumped against the back of the futon, shoulders touching, sleepy and sated.
* * *
Roland watched Sarah hide a yawn behind a small, bandaged hand. She looked as exhausted as he felt and, with a full belly, was probably as close to conking out as he was.
This all seemed so surreal … almost like a dream induced by eating a heavy meal right before bedtime. He hadn’t hurt this much physically since he had been transformed; yet he had actually enjoyed the past hour, laughing and talking with a beautiful woman, sharing a meal and a warm camaraderie with her as if they weren’t an immortal and a mortal.
As if he weren’t 937 years old to her, perhaps, twenty-eight or thirty.
As if he were still capable of trust. Of friendship. Or more.
In his mortal life, before he had been transformed, he had treasured moments like this. Sharing a trencher with his wife at the high table in the great hall. Offering her the choicest morsels. Winning her smiles and tinkling laughter.
But, if that treacherous bitch had accomplished nothing else, she had taught him that things weren’t always what they seemed.
“I think I’ll call Marcus now, if that’s all right with you.”
“Sure.”
Sarah dug through the napkins and assorted litter that had collected on the coffee table until she found the tablet with Marcus’s number on it.
“Here you are.” She handed him the tablet and the phone.
“Thank you.”
Her smile broadened, then turned into another yawn. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep last night.”
Roland frowned. “Why?” Had the vampires who had lured him out there been terrorizing her before he arrived?
She grimaced. “The spring semester just ended and one of my spoiled Fundamentals students went whining to the department chair, claiming he got a D because I didn’t like him. I’ve only been teaching there for two semesters, so I wasn’t sure how the chair would react.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
“No. The student hadn’t turned in half of his assignments and had failed most of the exams. The whole department knew he was full of crap and leapt to my defense. It just really ticked me off.”
“I would imagine so.”
“That’s actually why I was in the meadow this morning. I figured several hours spent turning over the soil for a veggie garden would tire me out enough to rid me of my insomnia and let me sleep tonight.”
He winced. “Sorry I spoiled the plan.”
She smiled. “No apologies necessary.”
Assuming Sarah wanted to listen in as she had before (he would, but then the other immortals claimed he was paranoid), Roland pressed the speakerphone button and dialed Marcus’s number.
On the fourth ring, an irritable voice hoarse with sleep answered. “What?”
“Marcus, it’s Roland.”
“Roland?” He sounded understandably surprised. It had been a decade or so since the two had last touched base. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”
“Actually—”
“Wait. You only call me when you’re desperate. What happened?”
Roland looked askance at Sarah.
She smiled and whispered, “I’m beginning to see a pattern.”
“Who the hell was that?” Marcus demanded, shocked no doubt that Roland would have anyone, particularly a woman, with him during daylight hours.
“An innocent who came to my rescue.”
“You needed rescuing?”
“Yes, I’ll explain it all later. Right now I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
“I need you to bring me some medical supplies,” he said meaningfully, then asked Sarah for her address and relayed it to Marcus.
“How badly are you injured?”
As Roland opened his mouth to respond, Sarah blurted out, “Badly.”
He raised his eyebrows.
She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I know that was rude, but I was afraid you were going to downplay it again.”
“How much blood have you lost, Roland?” Marcus pressed.
“A lot,” he admitted.
Sarah beamed her approval and patted his arm, making him smile.
“Can you hold out until evening?”
“Yes.”
She frowned.
“Okay. I’ll bring you everything you need tonight.”
“Great.”
Leaning forward, Sarah whispered, “Don’t forget clothes.”
“Right,” he said, distracted by her nearness. “I’m also going to need some clothes.”
There was a long silence.