Page 36 of Don't Bite the Botanist
Cora shifted forward and crossed her legs in a way that reminded Tressa of a therapist preparing to dispense some profound insight. “Ah, yes. Saiden mentioned your mate. I’ve been meaning to find some time to slip away and come find you, but…” She waved a hand toward the monitors. “We’re in the last few days of principal photography, and things have been chaotic to say the least.”
“No worries,” Tressa replied. “I figured as much. I could use a quick piece of advice, though. Seeing as you were basically in Ethan’s shoes a few months ago.”
“How could I ever forget?” Cora said with dry amusement. “But I’m more than happy to help. What’s your question?”
“How do I convince him that vampires aren’t evil so I can confess my true identity to him and live happily ever after?”
Cora burst out laughing. “Tress, no part of this conversation is going to be quick if that’s your situation.”
“Yeah, I was worried that might be the case.” Tressa dropped her head against the back of the couch.
“Look,” Cora said, placing her hand on Tressa’s knee. “As much as I wish I had the magic answer, my scenario was completely different because A, Saiden told me he was a vampire pretty early on, and B, I’ve never lost someone I cared about to a rogue. I can tell you this much, though. If I had witnessed a vampire tear out Jinx’s throat, I’m not sure anything would change my mind about them being evil.”
Tressa grimaced. “I was afraid of that.”
“I wish I could brainstorm this with you, but I have to get back,” Cora said as she struggled to extricate herself from the deep cushions. “Here’s the best I got for you. Things between Saiden and I almost fizzled before they sparked because he lied about the mate bond and turned me without my permission. So just be honest with Ethan, and whatever you do, don’t make him a vampire until he’s willing.”
Cora gave Tressa a sympathetic look, then sat back down at her computer and slid a headset over her ears. “Okay, I’m back. Jinx, let’sgo from the top.”
Tressa watched Cora give instructions for a moment, then headed out of the room to allow their resident director to work her magic in peace.
“Be honest and don’t turn him?” she huffed out as she strolled down the hall. “Pretty sure the moment I’m honest I’ll never see him again.”
Sighing, she made her way toward the kitchen to look into getting some food prepared for Ethan. Maybe if she was lucky, the chef would teach her how to cook, and she could make something for him. Her mate did mention he loved yummy pastry, and she’d always heard the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.
Chapter eighteen
Ethan
“Get out of my kitchen and never come back!” an older male voice bellowed as Ethan rounded the corner and saw Tressa scurrying away from a white-tiled room filled with stainless steel furnishings.
“Oof,” he grunted when she barreled straight into him, knocking them both to the floor. Her flour-covered form landed on top of him with a thud, but he couldn’t summon any annoyance at being plowed into. Not when he saw her face covered in chunks of lemon.
“You okay?” he asked, reaching up to pluck a bit of fruit from her hair.
“More or less,” she said sheepishly, tossing a look over her shoulder at the irritated man who just glared at her before slamming the double doors shut.
“Pastry mishap?” he asked, barely suppressing his grin.
“Yeah, I was trying to learn how to make lemon tarts. Turns out I’m not meant for the kitchen.”
She dropped her head to his chest, and the movement molded their bodies together even deeper. She hadn’t made an attempt to get up yet, but for some reason, he was okay with that despite the squishy wetchunks dampening his shirt.
Ethan glanced at the trail of flour leading from the closed doors to Tressa. “I’d say that’s a safe assumption. Though I don’t think that’s a bad thing. A badass vampire hunter like you shouldn’t be hidden away in a stuffy kitchen baking for other people.”
“I just thought it might be nice to make a treat for you,” she mumbled into his chest. “To help with settling in here.”
He cupped her face with his hands and lifted her head so he could see her properly. “While I appreciate the gesture,” he said, brushing a smudge of flour off her cheek with his thumb, “you don’t need to bake for me, Tressa. Ever. Though you do have good taste. Lemon tarts are one of my favorites.”
Her face lit up. “Oh, well, I’ll have someone who is much more qualified make you some. Any other favorites I should let the chef know about?”
He shook his head. “I’m pretty easy. As long as you don’t put pears or apricots in anything, I’m happy.”
She jerked backward, and the motion shifted her body along a part of him that was growing more awake the longer she remained on top of him.
“Pear?” she asked. “What do you have against pears?”
“I’m deathly allergic, and I’m pretty sure you guys don’t have a spare EpiPen laying around.”
