Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [597]
What would it be like to date someone “normal”? I didn’t know. Did I want to find out? I realized with a shock that I did. I wanted to go out on a normal date with a normal guy and do normal things, just once, just for a while. I’d been vampire’s lover, werewolf’s mate, zombie queen, and for the last year I’d been learning ritual magic so I could control all the rest, so I guess you could add apprentice witch to the list. It had been a weird year even for me. I’d called a break to the romance with both Richard and Jean-Claude because I needed a breather. They were overwhelming me, and I didn’t know how to stop it. Would one date with someone else really hurt? Would going out with someone who was just a guy really bring the world crashing down around my ears? Would it? The answer was probably no, but the very fact that I wasn’t sure meant I should have run from Ramirez and any other nice guy who asked me out. I should have said no, and kept saying no, so why did part of me want to say yes?
12
IT WAS ONLY AS Edward was searching for a parking spot on the rock-covered parking lot behind Los Cuates that I realized it was a Mexican restaurant. The name should have been a clue, but I just hadn’t been paying attention. If my mother had liked Mexican food, she hadn’t lived long enough to pass it on to me. Blake was an English name, but before my great-grandfather came through Ellis Island it was Bleckenstien. My idea of ethnic cuisine was wiener schnitzel and sauerbraten. So I was less than enthused as we crossed the gravel to the rear entrance of the restaurant. For someone who didn’t like Mexican or southwestern cuisine, I was in the wrong part of the country.
The back entrance led through a long shadowed hall, but the main restaurant was bright with white stucco walls: bright wall hangings, fake parrots dangling from the ceiling, and strings of dried chilies everywhere. Very touristy, which usually means the food won’t be authentic or very good. But a lot of the diners were Hispanic and that boded well. Whatever the food, if the actual ethnic group liked the restaurant, then the food was authentic and likely good.
A woman that actually looked Hispanic asked if we’d like a table. Edward smiled and said, “Thanks, but I see our party.”
I looked where he was looking and saw Donna at a booth. There were two kids with her, one girl about five or six and a boy in his early teens. Call it a hunch, but I was betting I was about to be introduced to her kiddies. Introduced to Edward’s potential step-children. Can you stand it? I was almost sure I couldn’t.
Donna stood and gave Edward a smile that would have melted a lesser man into his socks. It wasn’t the sex, though that was in there. It was the warmth, the perfect trust that only true love can give you. That first romantic love that may not last, but while it does, wow. I knew that he was probably giving as good a look as he was getting, but his wasn’t real. He didn’t mean it. He was lying with his eyes, something I’d only managed to learn recently, and part of me is sad about that. It’s one thing to know how to lie, but to be able to lie with your eyes says you are someone not to be trusted. Poor Donna. She was with two of us.
The little girl scooted out of the booth and came running towards us, arms outstretched, chestnut braids flying. She gave a glad shriek of, “Ted!” and flung herself into his arms. Edward scooped her up and tossed her towards the ceiling. She laughed that joyous full-blown sound that children eventually grow out of, as if the world bleeds the joy from them. Unless we’re very lucky, the world teaches us