Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Obediently, I follow the man into the dark recesses of a home, traversing a long hallway before we enter a dimly lit living room. It looks like something out of Dracula’s castle, with dark red velvet drapes and black leather furniture. At this point, all that’s missing are wall sconces dripping candle wax, but I guess we’re not in the eighteenth century.
Instead, I plaster a fake smile on my face.
“So where’s the baby?” I chirp. “His name is Wendell?”
Tristan waves one arm around. “Oh, Wends is already sleeping,” he says lightly. “The baby’s been going down at about six o’clock most days.”
I nod.
“Sure, no problem. Well, I’m happy to take over, so you can be on your way, Mr. Gorges. It’s my pleasure to be here.” But where could my new employer be going? I wonder in my head. To a vampire cosplay event?
But instead of nodding and heading for the door, instead, Tristan Gorges merely gestures for me to join him in the kitchen. I follow obediently, because what else can I do?
“Actually, I was just finishing up a glass of wine,” he begins in a smooth tone, leaning his large body against the counter. Those blue eyes survey me, and not in a good way. They run over my hills and valleys and I stifle a shudder.
“Sure, that makes sense,” I nod while feeling awkward was hell. Then I plaster another smile on my face. “So does the baby tend to wake up a lot or did you have emergency contact information you wanted to leave or—?”
But Tristan’s laugh cuts me off mid-sentence.
“My apologies,” he says formally. “I’m not laughing at your question because it’s a good one. It’s just where are my manners? Would you like some wine as well, little one?”
I hesitate. No client has ever offered me alcohol while babysitting, and it seems totally wrong to accept. I’m just about to decline, but then I hesitate because maybe it’ll make this man leave sooner.
“Um, sure I guess,” I say in an awkward tone. “But just a quarter glass. I don’t usually drink when I’m babysitting.”
“Yes, certainly,” the huge man says, spinning balletically to grasp the decanter. Then he totally ignores my request and pours me a full glass of red before handing it to me. “Cheers,” he says brightly.
I give him a waxy smile and take the smallest sip I possibly can without looking like I hate this whole charade. Really, I just wet my lips because I don’t want to have anything to do with this person, socially.
“Um, so I saw in your last babysitter’s notes that your son is about a year old?” I ask. I want to make sure that this talk stays professional because something tells me that this situation is wrong. I don’t know why or what exactly, but Tristan Gorges is seriously creeping me out.
He waves his hand vaguely.
“Yeah, Wendell’s cute. Don’t worry, there’s no wife in the picture,” the big man says, holding up a ringless left hand as if I just asked. “I get him every other week, but a guy’s still got to party even when he’s got his son at home, right?” Then he leans forward intimately. “So tell me about yourself Marcy. What do you like to do for fun?”
I stare.
“Oh um,” is my stammer. “I work a lot, babysitting. And at a makeup counter.”
“Oh yeah? Where?” Tristan’s eyes gleam.
The pit in my stomach grows bigger. “Um, at the mall,” I answer in a vague tone. “It’s one far, far away.”
Thank god he lets that slide.
“And what about fun?” Tristan inquires. “You look like the type of woman who enjoys a good time.” My skin crawls as Tristan straightens and then slides a bit closer to me in the kitchen.
“Oh, I enjoy walking around the city,” I answer, inching away subtly. “It’s good exercise and good people watching too.” Why won’t this guy leave already? Doesn’t he have somewhere to go? I take an unsteady sip of my wine, hoping he’ll depart, but instead, Tristan’s eyes roam over my body again.
“You know, sex is a really good way to lose weight, too.”
I nearly spit out my vino.
“What? Excuse me?” I finally manage to blurt out. “I didn’t say anything about losing weight or about sex,” I manage to sputter, hoping that I sound braver than I feel.
“Oh I didn’t mean to imply that you said anything,” Tristan answers in a smooth tone. “You’ve got some good curves on you, that’s all. The kind that would be fun to see jiggling in bed.”
What the actual fuck? My eyes dart in the direction of the dark hallway that we came from. “Um, thanks,” I mumble, trying to plan my escape. “You know what? I left something in my car,” I lie. “I need to grab it before you go, so that the baby isn’t alone in the house.”