Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs (Glory St. Clair #5)

Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs (Glory St. Clair #5) Page 63

“Going to Austin. Same as you.” He opened one eye. “Relax. The plane’s taking off. I’ll talk to you after I get my drink. I haven’t been getting a hell of a lot of sleep lately. Sit back and be quiet.”

“Well!” I huffed, crossed my arms and plucked a magazine out of the seat back in front of me. Oh, great. One of the few I’d read this month. I stared at it anyway while the jet climbed and Rafe sat there with his eyes closed.

He looked different. Relaxed. Wow. Long lashes against his tanned skin. His black hair was growing out and curled against the collar of his white cotton shirt. His jeans were the kind of butt huggers that made me lick my lips. I quickly went back to my magazine and an article on designer shoes. I looked down. He wore black leather boots, the kind that went with Harleys. Did he own a motorcycle in his human form?

I had lots of questions for him. We really didn’t know each other. Take that back. He knew everything about me. I knew next to nothing about him. Like what Jerry had on him that had put Rafe into a five-year contract to do the dog thing. And it hadn’t been just about the money. They’d let that much drop.

“Here you go, Mr. Valdez.” The flight attendant served Rafe a glass and fussed with his tray table. “May I get you something now, Ms. St. Clair?” She’d already tried to serve me before and I’d turned her down.

I shook my head. No synthetics on this flight and I didn’t feel like dragging her into the bathroom and taking her down a pint. Oh, come on. Just a little sick vamp humor. I was enjoying a nice wallow in self-pity. Rafe took a swallow and smiled.

“Nice. Great to be off duty. Can’t tell you how long it’s been since I could just kick back and enjoy a drink.” He took another sip. The flight attendant stopped on her way down the aisle and looked a question at him. “Keep ’em coming, sweetheart.”

“You’re not going to get drunk, are you, Rafe?” I could just see me trying to get him off the plane. I had vamp strength, but it would be awkward to say the least. Maybe I should call Flo and Richard to pick us up at the airport.

“No, I’ll stop at three. I’ll just be pleasantly relaxed, then I’ll sleep the rest of the way.” He glanced around the first-class cabin. “Not that I’m supposed to care, but I think you’ll be okay if I actually sleep, right?”

“Sure. You read my note, didn’t you?” I stuck the magazine back in with the others. “I’m not going to need your services. I e-mailed Jerry and told him the same thing. We’re done. I’m on my own.”

“Right. Got it.” Rafe handed his empty glass to the attendant and took a fresh one, this obviously a double. He grinned at her. “You read my mind. Thanks.” He took a sip. “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. You were firing me.”

“Not exactly. I can give you references if you need them. Jerry can too, I’m sure.” I nibbled a fingernail, then jerked my hand back into my lap.

“No thanks. I’ve got my future all worked out. I’ve been saving and plan to open a bar. I’m used to being up all night. Seems like the perfect fit.” He smiled and tilted the glass to look at the liquid inside. “And you owe me a place to stay. Remember?”

“What?” I was still processing the bar thing.

“You told me I could have Flo’s old room if I ever needed it. Since I’ll be using all my money for this new business, I’m taking you up on that. The restaurant on the other side of the tattoo parlor next to your shop is folding, and it’ll work for the bar. So your digs are a convenient location.” He took another swallow. “We’ll be roommates, Glory. But, sorry, no more dog body for me. You’ll have to get used to my human form. I’ll shift for emergencies, but that’s it.”

“Uh, wow.” I leaned back in my seat. Rafael Valdez as roommate. Sharing the one bathroom. I sat up. “We need ground rules, Rafe.”

“Sure. I get that.” He grinned. “I’m really pretty easy to get along with. Same guy, just different”—he leaned closer when the flight attendant passed by—“exterior. This way you won’t have to put me on a leash.” He winked. “Unless that floats your boat.”

My cheeks grew hot and I cleared my throat. “You know better than that. No running around in your underwear, Rafe.”

“Fine. Don’t own much anyway. But, Glory”—he drained his second glass and reached for his third—“feel free to run around in yours. I’ve always loved a woman with curves.”