100% That Witch - Celia Kyle Page 0,10

up at a screen showing Karloff stomping through the woods in full makeup. The pint of beer in front of him was already half-empty, and she wondered if she’d gotten the time wrong. It seemed impossible. She’d nearly gotten it tattooed on her wrist.

“Hey,” she said in her brightest voice as she stepped up beside him. Even with him sitting, she still had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

“Oh, hey.” He looked down at her, almost as if he had forgotten she was coming. She blinked up at him, that smoky look from her fantasies vanishing in the face of the man himself. “Here,” he said, nudging the empty stool next to him.

“Thanks.” She climbed onto it in as slinky a way as she could manage in those heels. Once settled, she scooted in her seat until the band of pale flesh between her boots and skirt was well on display. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Um, beer.” He looked quizzically at his glass and then back at her.

“Sounds yummy. Can I get one?”

“Yeah, sure.” He leaned forward until he caught the bartender’s eye.

Why hasn’t he said anything about how I look yet? I’ve got all the goods on display!

If Rhys wasn’t exactly helping himself to an eyeful, the werewolf behind the bar sure was. At least it was working on somebody.

“Two more of these?” Rhys asked, lifting his glass. “My tab.”

Of course it was his tab. Gentlemen still bought drinks for their dates. Right? It was part of the dating code or something. Wasn’t it?

Oh, I get it, she thought as the bartender sauntered off. It’s an act. Play it cool. He wants me deep down but isn’t going to show me his cards all at once.

“You’re sneaky,” she said, reaching out to poke the back of his hand.

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” She kept her tone airy, with just a hint of mystery in it, opening the door of light flirtation. If he was going to be cool, she could play that game, too. Looking up at the screen, she saw Karloff in a crypt now, holding a skull with a sense of longing that would make the greatest of Hamlets blush.

“I love this one,” she said.

“Yeah?” Monosyllabic answers weren’t always conducive to conversation, but Rhys had always been reserved. It was part of his mystique.

“Absolutely. He’s so tall, sensitive, and misunderstood. But, in the end, all he wants is someone to share his life with. Someone who understands.” She let her eyes drift from the screen to his face and offered up the alluring eyes she’d practiced in the mirror. For his part, Rhys pursed his eyebrows and looked down at her with a half-amused smile.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the plot of Bride of Frankenstein. Well done.”

Tiffany laughed a little too hard, rocking forward to put a hand on his arm. The beers arrived, and she plucked hers up and held it out to his.

“To someone who understands.”

“Sure.” He clinked his glass to hers and took a healthy gulp.

Beer had never really been Tiffany’s drink of choice, but she wanted to align herself with him. Sure, it was fine for a night sitting around with her roommates, but when she went out, she liked to spice things up a little.

“So.” She leaned forward, hoping that a glimpse of her chest might liven things up. “Where’s the coolest place you’ve ever been?”

“Hmm?” He glanced down from the screen, seemingly oblivious to the view she was trying to give him.

“I’ve been dying to know, and learning about how someone travels is the best way to get inside their skin.” It felt a touch naughty, but she laced a hint of innuendo into the image. Rhys rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, looking slightly abashed.

“I’m not really much for travel. Never have been.”

“Are you serious?” she gaped, but he just shrugged. “I’m amazed. I think travel is just the best.” Scooping up her beer, she helped herself to a drink, leaving ample room for him to ask about her favorite destinations. But no question came. When she looked up again, his eyes had returned to the black and white goings-on onscreen.

“So, you like this one, too, huh?” In many ways, it was a romantic little picture, and surprisingly funny. It figured that the mix of gallows humor and gothic themes would appeal to him.

“Eh,” he shrugged. “I’ve seen it a couple of times, I guess.”

He was doing a magnificent job of playing it cool, and Tiffany was working hard to keep from