Scott scooted his chair around the table—next to Josie—so he could see the show. He comfortably stretched his arm across the back of her chair, and she smiled at him, leaning into him a little.
Their waiter brought Josie’s salad and bread, and a few minutes later, the play began. Scott vaguely remembered reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream in high school, but he had forgotten the specifics. It was turning out funnier than he remembered.
After the first act, everyone’s dinner was brought out, and the waiter brought Scott another glass of blood, along with Josie’s food.
Josie was just cutting into her chicken, when someone called her by name.
Scott and Josie—with a bite of chicken in her mouth—looked up. There was a middle-aged woman standing next to their table, looking at them in surprise.
“It is you!” she said, sounding pleased.
Josie gulped down her food nervously. “Hi, Mrs. Lebovitz.”
“What brings you to Nashville?” she asked, staring at Scott, as if she didn’t know the answer already.
“Dinner and a show,” Josie replied with a lame smile.
Mrs. Lebovitz either wasn’t one to take a hint, or she was a very determined woman, because she thrust her hand at Scott the next moment. “Hi, I’m Tina Lebovitz.”
Scott glanced at Josie for a brief second, but couldn’t tell from her face if he was supposed to lie or not. She was just staring straight ahead, grimacing.
He stood up and shook the lady’s hand. “Hi, I’m Scott Cunningham.”
“Cunningham? I don’t know any Cunningham’s…” she said, as if his name was of particular interest.
“No, ma’am, I wouldn’t imagine you do. I’m not from Nashville.”
They were, thankfully, interrupted by the lights flickering, warning people that the show was about to start.
“I better go,” Mrs. Lebovitz said. “It was nice to meet you,” she said with a smile to Scott. Then she patted Josie on the shoulder. “Good seeing you, Josie.”
Josie forced a smile on her face. “Nice seeing you again, Mrs. Lebovitz.
Scott sat down again. “Who was that?” he asked, as soon as Mrs. Lebovitz was out of earshot.
“One of my mother’s majhong friends. That was her son—Max—that I went out with the other night.”
“Oh,” Scott said.
Josie hurried to fish her phone out of her purse. She pressed a few buttons, then laid it in her lap, on top of her napkin. “My mother will call in less than thirty minutes. You watch.”
“Is Mrs. Lebovitz going to tattle on us?”
“You better believe she will. And did you notice her being all interested in your name? She knows.”
“That you’re not a Jew.” She gestured to the single glass of blood in front of Scott. “You better believe she noticed that too. All will be reported to my mother.”
Scott suddenly smiled. “Then why don’t we give her something worth reporting?” As the lights dimmed, he reached over, touching her face softly, and pulled her closer kissing her gently on the lips.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t kissed her before—there had been plenty of impassioned, demanding kisses between them over the past several weeks—but something in that moment was different. Scott felt something stirring within him and, for once, it wasn’t his dick. It was something harder and colder than that: his heart.
He felt almost breathless—a truly strange sensation, considering he didn’t breathe. And when he pulled back and looked into Josie’s dark eyes, he could see she was feeling the same thing.
Read the entire series–The Bloodsuckers: Vampire Lawyers of Middle Tennessee