Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [26]
“I’d just gotten here from Kansas City.” He’d said it like that explained his ensemble, like Kansas City was a foreign country with a completely different culture. “The pace was different down there, even for vampires. A little slower.”
“And Charlotte introduced you to my grandfather?”
I could see Jonah’s blush even in the dark. “Yeah. To piss off Major, I think. I was finishing up one of my degrees. This gorgeous girl approached me on campus one day and asked me out.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I was going to say no. And when we met with Noah, you had no idea who I was.”
That explained why Jonah had copped such an attitude the first night we’d met near the lake. “That’s why you were irritated with me,” I said. “Not because you thought I was like Charlotte, but because you thought I’d forgotten you.”
“You had forgotten me, and you aren’t as unlike Charlotte as you’d like to believe.”
I started to protest, thinking he meant to tease me about society soirees or luxury brands or winters in Palm Beach, none of which I was interested in. But instead of assuming, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and asked the question. “Why am I like Charlotte?”
He smiled. “Because you’re loyal. Because you both value your families, even if you define them differently. Her children and Major are hers. Your House is yours.”
It hadn’t always been that way, but I couldn’t disagree with him. “I see.”
A few minutes later, our waitress returned with two steaming piles of noodles.
“Nine,” she said, placing a plate in front of Jonah. “And two,” she said, dropping an identical plate in front of me.
I removed the wrapper from a pair of chopsticks and glanced up at Jonah in anticipation. “You ready?”
“Are you?” he asked with amusement.
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him, plucking up a tangle of noodles and bean sprouts. My first bite was huge . . . and I regretted it immediately.
“Two” was apparently a euphemism for “Flaming Inferno.” My eyes watered, the heat building from a slow burn at the back of my throat to a firestorm along the tip of my tongue. I would have sworn flames were actually shooting from my ears.
“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Hot,” I got out before grabbing my glass of water and finishing half of it in a single gulp. “That’s a two?” I hoarsely asked. “That is insane.”
“And you wanted a seven,” Jonah nonchalantly said, eating his plate of noodles like it had been doused in nothing more than soy sauce.
“How can you possibly eat that?”
“I’m used to it.”
I took another bite and chewed quickly, barely enjoying the flavor, mostly trying to choke it down before the spice caught up with me.
The waitress approached again, a carafe of water in hand. She refilled Jonah’s glass, then glanced at me. “Two?”
“Still too hot,” I admitted, chugging down another half glass of water. “What’s in it? Thai peppers?”
Shrugging, the waitress refilled my glass again. “Cook grows them in her yard. Very hot.”
“Very, very hot,” I agreed. “Do people actually order the ten?”
“Longtime customers,” she said. “Or on dare.”
With that pronouncement, she toddled away with her now-empty carafe.
I looked at Jonah with spice-spawned tears in my eyes. “Thank you for not daring me to eat the ten.”
“It wouldn’t have been right,” Jonah said, shoveling noodles into his mouth. A thin line of sweat appeared on his forehead, and he’d begun to sniff.
“I thought the heat didn’t get to you?” I asked with a self-satisfied smile.
He wiped at his brow with the back of a hand, then grinned up at me. “I didn’t say it wasn’t hot. I just said I was used to it. Immortality’s hardly worth the trouble if there’s no challenge.”
I wasn’t positive, but I had a sinking suspicion he wasn’t talking about the food. I took another bite, and focused on the burning sting.
“Tell me about Ethan.”
Startled, I looked over at Jonah. “Excuse me?”
Nonchalantly, he shrugged and swallowed another knot of noodles. “You told me you weren’t together. That may be true, but I don’t get the sense it’s the entire story.