doesn’t look like rags patched together.”
Tiffany smiled, deciding she would not share the fact that a lot of her clothes actually came from thrift shops. It was a guaranteed way of making sure you had a unique outfit. Plus, since he’d cut her off, she had to pinch her pennies until they bled copper.
Oscar launched into a monologue about study habits and discipline. Tiffany put her chin in her hand and watched his face but barely registered the words. She couldn’t stop thinking about Nero and what they were going to do about their situation. As much as she wanted—and deserved—to finish her schooling, the thought of Nero giving up the job he loved so much wasn’t even an option, as far as she was concerned. She could get her degree elsewhere, if need be, and plenty of successful people never finished—or even went to—college. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it would work out in the end, as long as she had Nero by her side.
“Tiffany, are you listening to me?”
“Of course, Dad.” Oops!
“How are classes going? You said you were making progress.”
“I am,” she nodded emphatically. “I certainly am.”
She considered telling him she was flunking out and moving into the woods to be a dryad, but she managed to bite her tongue. Still, she was considering it as a viable option, if all else failed.
“Something’s wrong,” he said, eyes full of triumph. “I can feel it. What happened?”
“Dad, nothing—”
“It has to do with that tutor. Doesn’t it?” His face went blank, and she could feel his senses reaching out. She couldn’t hide from his mild psychic abilities, if he really applied them to her.
“Fine,” she said with a defeated sigh.
He leaned back in his chair, eyeing her with some suspicion. The waitress paused briefly by their table to leave the coffee before bolting like a gazelle. Her father picked up the cup and took a sip, his eyes on Tiffany the whole time.
“My tutor, Nero Baines, is a vampire and a professor of botany at OCU. He lives in the woods and he’s a real outdoorsy type—”
“I’m loving this already. Am I going to have to sit by and listen to a blow by blow of his childhood?” her father asked dryly. He blew on his coffee before taking another sip, so a waft of steam floated about his head for effect.
Fuck it. I’m saying it.
“We’re Beloveds, Dad.”
She picked up her coffee and took a long, slow sip while her father’s face slowly turned every shade between red and purple.
“What?” he choked. “What the hell are you saying?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she thought about Nero. “He knew from the first moment he saw me, when I was gaga over Rhys. He was just waiting for me to realize it myself. That’s the kind of guy he is.”
Despite the heartbreak looming in their future, Tiffany’s love for Nero filled her so completely that she almost made a totally cheesy move and dropped a hand to her chest to feel her own throbbing heartbeat. But she managed to restrain herself. Sadly, her father didn’t bother.
“Unacceptable!” he sputtered, slopping his coffee over the rim as he set it down. As he leaned forward, she shrank back into her chair.
Here it comes.
“I tolerated your infatuation with that necromancer because at least he was a witch, of sorts. Of course, I would have had a hell of an awkward time explaining it to our social circle, but the Rhonelles are a good family with excellent standing. They have been well-known for decades as very strong witches.”
He paused, shaking his head like the weight of his disappointment was so great he could barely wade through it.
“But a vampire? A vampire that lives in the woods?” The words came out in a strained tone. His eyes widened as if his civilized mind couldn’t conceive of such a thing. “Unthinkable, Tiffany Amaterasu Ufora!”
“Dad, calm down.” Tiffany couldn’t help but try getting through to him, even though she knew from past experience it was useless. “He’s not a weirdo or anything. He just likes the company of nature. You know, like witches should.”
Her voice took on a firm tone, and her stare gathered steel. At her mini-jibe, his eyes narrowed as she continued.
“He’s incredibly smart, gentle and kind, and he doesn’t give a damn what people think of him, including you. He’s an excellent professor and very talented.”
Her mind rolled over everything she knew and loved about Nero, and wetness formed