The low honk of a car horn drifted through the window, snapping me out of my final mirror inspection. Purse in hand, I'd been fussing with the little details tucking my lip gloss inside, double-checking for my wallet, phone, and the emergency pack of gum every girl with common sense carried.
I froze for a beat. The horn quieted, followed by the deep purr of an engine cutting off. Of course, it was him. Lucien.
I pressed my lips together, nerves buzzing. Okay. Purse? Check. Card? Check. Sanity? Questionable.
I was halfway down the stairs when the front door creaked open. My brows knit together what the...?
"Charlie"?" I whispered to myself.
Sure enough, there was Charlie, stepping outside like some undercover agent on patrol. From the kitchen, Bella leaned casually against the doorway, mug in hand, smirk firmly in place.
"I think Dad's about to give that talk," she stage-whispered, voice full of amusement. "You know, the whole 'hurt my daughter and I'll shoot you' classic."
I glared at her, clutching my purse tighter. "He isn't my boyfriend," I hissed back.
Bella's smirk widened into something positively gleeful. "Yeah, right. Sure. Totally. Just coffee."
I gave her my best death-glare, which she dodged by sipping from her mug like she'd won the entire war. Unbelievable.
Still, curiosity tugged me forward. I peeked around the doorway and spotted them Charlie and Lucien. And… wait a second. They weren't glaring at each other, or having the tense standoff I'd braced myself for. No, they were laughing.
Lucien stood there, tall and perfectly collected, his hands tucked neatly into his coat pockets. His smile was polite but warm, the kind of smile that somehow managed to win parents over in thirty seconds flat. And Charlie stoic, gun-owning Charliewas chuckling at whatever Lucien had said, shaking his head like he couldn't help himself.
What did he tell him? A fishing joke? A story about trout? Did Lucien have dad humor in his back pocket along with the smolder?
I squared my shoulders, inhaled, and pushed the door open. Time to face the music.
Both of their gazes lifted as I stepped outside, the cool air brushing against my cheeks.
Lucien's smile deepened, his eyes catching mine with that unfair intensity. "Ready?"
I glanced at him, then at Charlie half expecting him to whip out a shotgun for dramatic effect. But instead, he just gave me a mildly suspicious side-eye, then returned to sipping from his coffee thermos.
"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat. "I'm ready."
Charlie's gaze slid back to me, that sheriff-dad squint sharpening. "Be back before curfew," he said firmly, like I was about to run off to Vegas instead of a coffee shop.
"Yeah, sure," I replied quickly, nodding a little too much. Definitely not suspicious at all.
Before the silence could stretch, Lucien spoke smoothly, his voice laced with old-world charm. "Don't worry, Chief Swan. I'll have her back before curfew. You have my word."
Of course he did. Of course he did. Gentleman mode: activated. He even added the faintest respectful dip of his head, like he was swearing allegiance to the crown.
Charlie seemed… actually satisfied with that. He gave Lucien a curt nod, muttered, "All right then," and sipped his coffee like he'd just closed a case.
I, meanwhile, was internally screaming. Yeah, sure, Lucien. Drop me off before curfew. That's believable. Because immortal vampires are totally famous for being punctual.
"Shall we?" Lucien asked, turning to me with that disarming smile, one hand gesturing toward his sleek car.
And then...oh, of course..he did it. The full gentleman treatment. He walked ahead and opened the passenger door with a graceful flourish, holding it open like some storybook prince.
I blinked at him, then at the car, then back at him. "Really?"
He arched a brow, amused. "Is it so strange to be treated properly?"
"Yes," I muttered, slipping into the seat despite myself. "Deeply strange."
His chuckle followed me in, smooth and maddeningly pleased, before he closed the door with a soft click.
From the porch, Bella was still watching, mug in hand, smirk plastered across her face like she was going to dine out on this memory for months.
Fantastic.
Lucien slid into the driver's seat, the faint leather scent of the car surrounding me as the engine purred to life. I clasped my purse in my lap, trying not to look as flustered as I felt.
Great. Just great. Coffee hadn't even started yet, and I was already in trouble.
The car glided smoothly down the quiet streets, the soft hum of the engine filling the pauses between our words. I kept my hands neatly in my lap, trying not to fidget, though every glance at Lucien's perfectly composed profile made my chest skip.
I shifted slightly in my seat, finally daring to ask, "So… where exactly are we going for this coffee?"
Lucien's eyes flicked to mine, a small smirk playing at his lips. "There's a lovely little café in Port Angeles. Quiet, cozy, with the kind of pastries that might make you question your life choices."
I raised an eyebrow. "Port Angeles, huh? That's… a bit of a drive."
"Perhaps," he admitted, smoothly easing the car around a turn, "but nothing worth experiencing comes easily, darling."
I blinked at him. "Is that a line? Or are you… serious?"
He leaned back, that ever-so-slight tilt of his head that somehow made him look impossibly confident and approachable at the same time. "Both, maybe. But here's the thing...I'm not asking you to just endure this drive. I want you to enjoy it. To enjoy me, even."
I laughed nervously. "You do know you're dangerously confident, right?"
"Confidence is underrated," he said softly, letting his gaze linger on me for a beat longer than comfortable. "But… if you give me a chance, truly a chance, I can show you I'm not that bad."
I blinked. Not that bad? My mind instantly jumped to a million possibilities..what didn't he want me to assume about him?
"You make that sound like a challenge," I murmured, still trying to keep my composure.
"Consider it… an invitation," he said, his voice dipping just slightly, low and smooth. "One hour, Darling. That's all I ask. I promise to be… entertaining."
Amara snort and raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Darling? What's up with that?"
Lucien's smile deepened, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "Just a little reminder," he said smoothly, "that you're the one who keeps me talking like this. I promise it'll grow on you."
Amara couldn't help the faint smile tugging at her lips. Fine. Maybe it wasn't that bad.
He continued, leaning back slightly, hand resting casually on the wheel. "Honestly, darling, I think people underestimate me. I can be… quite charming if someone gives me the chance. And lucky for you, I intend to prove it."
Amara glanced out the window, trying to pretend she wasn't secretly flattered. "Uh-huh. Sure."
"Trust me," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, "you might even enjoy it."
Amara laughed quietly, shaking her head. Okay, he's infuriating. But… kind of fun, too.
I couldn't help but glance out the window, fighting the blush creeping up my neck. Entertaining, huh? That's one way to describe being swept off your mental feet in a car.
The trees blurred past as the conversation shifted into lighter territory small jokes, playful comments about the scenery, and the occasional teasing remark that made me bite back laughter. Every so often, he'd glance at me with a wink or a smile, and I'd nearly swerve in my seat from the effect it had on me.
By the time Port Angeles started to appear on the horizon, I was acutely aware of how alive this drive felt. I'd survived far worse than a flirtatious vampire in a car. And yet… I wondered if surviving this might actually be fun.
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