Fanged Love - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,31

with faded jeans that cling to his muscular thighs. He doesn’t look goth anymore. Maybe that’s what has me so enthralled. Before he covered himself in a strange costume, and the full beauty of his face was hidden by his long raven hair. But now he’s showing off every breathtaking, virile, manly inch. It reminds me exactly what lies beneath those formfitting clothes. I can barely think straight with the lust coursing through my veins.

And then Sadie stands up and howls. Mr. Bozhidar grimaces. So strange.

“Must be a full moon tonight,” Dad says jovially. “I’ll put her in our room.” He guides Sadie up the stairs to their bedroom, where she normally sleeps.

“Stella,” my mom snaps, drawing my attention, “everyone’s going to the living room for drinks. Could you help me bring the bruschetta in?”

“Yes, of course,” I mumble. The twins must’ve left.

I follow her, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. I stop and slowly turn my head to find Mr. Bozhidar standing in the archway of the living room, his legs shoulder width apart. He looks powerful, confident, and his gaze is eating me up. I flush hot and quickly turn away, heading into the kitchen.

I wonder what it would be like to feel those powerful-looking shoulders and chest—ow! I knocked into a kitchen stool.

“Are you okay?” Mom asks. “Did you have enough to eat today? You seem really out of it.”

I stare at the counter, not really seeing it. Everything’s a blur, like I’m swimming in a fog. “I’m fine. Maybe I’ll have some coffee. I’m a little unfocused.”

“You’re working too hard.” She gives my arm a squeeze. “I think things are going to start turning around for us now that we have a working relationship with Castle Sangria Vineyards. Knock wood.” She knocks on her head.

I smile. “Okay, let’s do this.”

A short while later, we’re all settled in the living room with sparkling water and a platter of bruschetta. The twins too, who apparently didn’t leave, instead settling in the living room to not so casually check out Mr. Bozhidar. Our living room is a cozy space with a fireplace, built-in bookcases behind glass doors, and ornate crown molding typical of old Victorian homes. I’m on the plush blue sofa with my parents, the twins are perched on the arms of the sofa, and Neli and Mr. Bozhidar are on the adjacent light blue upholstered armchairs. Neli has been explaining about the process of mixing different varietals, but I can barely focus. My gaze is drawn again and again to Mr. Bozhidar sitting in his chair like he’s the king. This is not a man who slouches. He owns the space. He hasn’t taken a single sip of sparkling water or eaten a bite of bruschetta. For some reason it bothers me. Like maybe he thinks our food and drink are substandard just like he said about our wine.

Horse piss mixed with putrid fish entrails.

Such a rude person. Wait. No. He’s an honest man. Which explains why I’m suddenly finding him so attractive. I despise lying men. Learned that the hard way. And I haven’t met any guys who appealed in a long while, and here’s this gorgeous muscled manly perfection right here in my living room, who lives across the street.

His eye catches mine, his lips twitching, and I turn away, blushing. That’s the second time he caught me ogling him. I need to get a hold of myself. It’s just that his new haircut really brings out his unusual eyes and the strong lines of his jaw and sensual mouth. And his formfitting clothes—

“Stella, honey.”

I blink, glancing up in surprise at my mom, who’s standing next to me. “Huh?”

“We’re going outside to the storeroom now. Do you want to lie down? You don’t look so good.” She puts the back of her hand on my forehead. “And you feel a little warm.”

I hear the faintest growl, and my head whips toward Mr. Bozhidar instinctively. His eyes gleam, the silver in them seeming to glow. I can barely breathe as I rise from the sofa, lost in those eyes. What is happening?

“I-I’m fine. Let’s do the tour,” I say, trying to shake it off.

My sisters stay behind, whispering to each other, uninterested in the business part of the evening.

Neli hooks her arm through mine and ushers me quickly from the room. “Can’t wait to see how you’re set up over here. Your mom had this great idea about you guys hosting private tasting