Another Curvy Girl and Grumpy Vamp (Just Another Girl Meets… #5)

5. Merri

Merri

T he night air feels cooler than usual as I drive, windows cracked just enough to let the breeze kiss my face. The soft drone of my car’s engine and the occasional ding of the Pick Ups app on my phone are the only sounds breaking through the quiet. It’s my escape, my little corner of control. At least, it usually is.

Tonight, though, something feels… off.

I glance at my phone, waiting for the next ride request to come through, but instead, a new notification pops up, making my hopes rise. Maybe, I'll hit my goal tonight after all. Payment received. I smile, tonight was unusually slow. I tap the screen, pulling up the details. My jaw drops when I see the amount. There’s a comma. A big, fat comma in the payment amount.

The hell?

My phone buzzes again, and this time it’s not Pick Ups. It’s a message—from an unknown number.

You’re off duty tonight.

I freeze, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, my heart skipping a beat. I know who this is. No one else would pull a stunt like this. Before I can even think about texting back, my phone buzzes again.

I suggest you start heading home.

A low growl builds in my throat, and I glance around the street, half-expecting to see Baden lurking somewhere nearby, watching me like the overprotective vamp he is. My fingers tighten around the phone, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

He didn’t.

He did.

My pulse races, my teeth grind down, and my fingers twitch with the urge to text back something snarky. But no. That’s exactly what he wants—some sort of reaction, some acknowledgment that he can control what I do, even from a distance.

I’m not giving him that satisfaction.

Instead, I pull into the nearest gas station, my mind spinning. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I need the money. But this—this is over the top, even for him. He literally bought out my night.

Fuming, I yank my phone out again and type a response.

Nice try. I’m still working.

I hit send, feeling a small sense of victory. But it doesn’t last long. A minute later, my phone buzzes again.

No, you’re not. Check your app.

My jaw tightens, and I flip back to Pick Ups. Sure enough, my availability has been… blocked. No requests. No rides. Nothing.

I glare at the screen so hard, I’m shocked it doesn’t crack. He seriously just bought out my entire night of rides. He must’ve thrown an insane amount of money at the app, enough to lock me out completely. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, shaking my head. A part of me wants to scream. The other part—well, it almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. I mean, who does that? Who buys out a whole night of ride-share jobs just to keep someone from working?

One guess.

I slam my hands against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up inside me. I need to do something, anything, to reclaim a sense of control. If he thinks he’s won, that he can just wave a pile of cash and make me go home, he’s dead wrong. My phone buzzes again, and this time, it’s another text.

If you’re not working, Let me take you somewhere.

My eyes narrow. Oh, no. He doesn’t get to do this. Not after pulling this stunt. Where is the last place Baden Eames would be caught un-dead at? Without thinking, I type back.

Fine. But I’m driving.

I hit send before I can second-guess it, and almost immediately, his response pops up.

I’ll meet you at your last stop. Send me the location.

Oh, I bet he will. I pull out of the gas station and drive toward a nearby spot—a 24-hour diner I know well. It’s close enough that if Baden’s lurking nearby, it won’t take him long to find me. When I pull into the parking lot, it’s not long before I spot him. The headlights of his Bugatti flash as he pulls up next to me, parking with that smooth, calculated grace that makes my car feel like a go-kart in comparison.

He steps out, and even though I want to stay mad, I can’t help but admire the way he moves—like every inch of him was crafted to draw attention. Damn it. He doesn’t say anything at first, just walks over to the passenger side of my car and waits, his eyes locked on mine. Silver, intense, unreadable. I roll down the window, raising an eyebrow. “Get in.”

He smirks, clearly amused by my defiance, but he doesn’t argue. He slips into the passenger seat, and I fight the sudden rush of adrenaline that hits me being this close to him again.

“You bought out my entire night of rides,” I say, my voice tight. “That’s… excessive.”

“It’s protection,” he replies, as if that explains everything.

“It’s overkill.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t want you driving around alone. Problem solved.”

“Problem solved?” I repeat, incredulous. “Do you realize how insane that is? Who does that?”

“I do."

I throw up my hands in exasperation. “Well, congratulations. You’ve officially out-crazed every overprotective guy I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you,” he says, his tone so matter-of-fact I can’t even be mad. I shake my head, unable to hide the small smile tugging at my lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m careful,” he corrects, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And I care about your safety.”

I roll my eyes, but the tension between us simmers in the small space of the car. “Fine. But if we’re not working, we’re doing something.”

His brow lifts. “Like what?”

“You ever been to an arcade?” I grin when he tilts his head. A lock of dark curls falls over his puzzled brows. Then his brows shoot up and his mouth tips up on one side before he shakes his head. I have to give him credit, he doesn’t bat even one of those beautiful eyelashes when he agrees.

***

We move from game to game, the neon lights casting a colorful glow over everything as Baden continues his steady string of losses. First, it’s the superhero game, where I easily dominate with a combo attack that wipes out his character in seconds. He narrows his eyes at me, probably wondering how anyone can be so good at controlling a digital hero. Then we try the latest space invader iteration, where, again, my thumbs dance over the buttons like a well-rehearsed symphony, while his movements are just a beat too slow. By the time the third game ends in my favor, I can practically feel his frustration simmering beneath that stoic exterior. He hasn’t said a word, but I can see it in the tightness of his jaw and the determined glint in his silver eyes. “You really suck at this,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow.

“What gave me away,” he replies, though there’s no heat behind the words. If anything, there’s a grudging respect in his tone. “You, on the other hand, seem to have mastered all this.”

I shrug, grinning. “What can I say? Some kids from my school told me about this place. It’s a throwback, and the first time I visited, I fell in love. It’s one of my favorite spots now.”

Baden tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to piece together. “You must come here all the time, then.”

I laugh. “Not as much as you think. But it’s a nice escape, you know? No responsibilities, just a chance to blow off steam. Everyone needs a place like that.”

He hums in response, his gaze drifting over the flashing lights before returning to me. There’s something softer in his expression, like maybe he’s starting to understand why a place like this appeals to someone like me—someone who needs an escape every now and then. As we walk around, I catch myself eyeing the concession stand, where they’re serving up root beer floats and milkshakes. My stomach grumbles, and I mentally chastise myself. Sweets this late? I shouldn’t. But damn, that root beer float looks tempting.

Baden notices, of course. “Would you like something?”

I shake my head quickly. “No, it’s fine. I mean, root beer floats are my favorite, but... Lifetime on the hips, you know?”

His gaze flicks down to my hips, and for a second, I swear the air between us is milkshake thick. “Your hips look fine to me,” he says, voice low and deliberate.

Heat creeps up my neck, and I roll my eyes, trying to shake off the effect his words are having on me. “Well, thanks for that,” I mumble. “But really, it’s late.”

He doesn’t seem to care. “You should have one,” he insists. “I’ll buy it.”

I wave him off, but he steps up to the counter anyway, ordering the float for me. I protest again, but he just shrugs. “I haven’t enjoyed food in… longer than I can remember,” he confesses, his voice quiet. “It’s one of the things I’ve lost over time. Along with the ability to enjoy blood—I need it to survive and there are a lot of options but…” His eyes flicker with something darker, something ancient. “The vaccine took even that away. That’s the price we paid for eternal sunshine.”

I take the float from him, stirring the straw in the frothy root beer, more focused on what he just said than the treat in my hand. “So, you don’t… you know… drink anymore?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not unless it’s given freely. But the vaccine has dulled even that desire.”

“That’s a lot to give up.”

He nods, a shadow crossing his face. “They say if you find your One, it comes back—the hunger, the pleasure of food, the taste of blood. But… I’ve never found her. I’ve stopped looking.”

My heart twists unexpectedly at his words. “You don’t believe you’ll ever find her?”

He gives me a small, humorless smile. “Like I said, there’s always a price to pay for everything.”

I sip my float, unsure how to respond to that. So, I just let it sit. Maybe I’m not the only one who understands what it means to sacrifice, to give up things for a future that may or may not ever come. “I get it,” I say softly. “About paying a price. My dad… he’s a quarter werewolf. Not enough to transform or anything, but enough to make him possessive as hell. Especially when it comes to my mom.” Baden listens intently, his eyes never leaving mine. I can feel the curiosity there, but he doesn’t push. He just waits for me to continue. “He treats me like an extension of her sometimes,” I admit. “Like… I’m just another way to keep her close. It’s taken me years to figure out that he loves me too, but in his own way. It’s just… it’s suffocating sometimes, you know?”

Baden’s lips press into a thin line, his brow furrowing. “How does he deal with your job, then? The ride-share thing?” I give a half-hearted laugh. “He doesn’t know. He thinks I’m a dispatcher for Pick Ups. It was easier that way, for everyone. My mom suggested it—she knows how hard it is for him.”

“And what do you think will happen when you find a mate?” Baden asks, suspiciously flat.

I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “I don’t plan on finding one. Mates make you crazy. Look at my dad. I don’t want that. I don’t want someone who’s with me because biology or magic makes them stay. I’d rather be with someone who chooses to stay, even if it means they could leave.”

Baden’s eyes darken, his gaze searching mine. “Even if that someone could be unfaithful?”

I meet his gaze head-on, standing firm. “Yes. I’d rather live with that possibility than be with someone who’s only faithful because they’re forced to be.”

There’s a long pause, the weight of my words hanging between us like a thick fog. But then, Baden straightens, his eyes glinting with something sharper, more playful. “Speaking of being forced to do something,” he says, his voice lighter now. “One last round?”

I grin, grateful for the shift in tone. “Sure. But this time, you get to pick.”

His smirk returns as he gestures toward the shooting gallery. “Something a little more familiar." Flashing lights and electronic noises fade into the background as we approach the shooting gallery. There’s a certain thrill that wafts between us now, something more tangible. Baden picks up the rifle with the ease of someone who’s done this before. My eyes eat up the way his muscles move, the precision in his grip. It's not hot. Not at all.

“You’re in trouble now,” I say with a teasing grin, but there’s a part of me that knows I’m the one who’s in trouble. The game begins, and within seconds, Baden’s firing with deadly accuracy. Each target drops without hesitation, and I barely manage to keep up. He’s in his element and damn it if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “Not bad,” I admit, aiming for a target. But before I can take the shot, he steps in closer, his body pressing lightly against mine. His hands move to adjust my grip, and I freeze, the heat of his breath ghosting over my neck as he leans in.

“You’re holding it wrong,” he murmurs, his voice a low sends shivers down my spine.

“I know how to shoot,” I manage to say, but my voice comes out breathless.

“Not like this,” he whispers, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below my ear.

The next shot rings out, hitting dead center, but I barely register it. All I can focus on is the feel of his hands on mine, the warmth of his breath, the way his chest presses against my back. And then, without warning, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my neck, inhaling deeply as his lips linger against my skin. My pulse explodes, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s going to bite me. But instead, he whispers, “You don’t have to worry. A bite doesn’t have to draw blood. Sometimes… it’s just for pleasure.” My breath hitches, and I feel the temp between us spike to a dangerous level. “For fun,” he adds, his voice like velvet.

The game’s lights flash around us, but all I can focus on is him—his voice, his touch, his temptation. The tension between us buzzes in the air, as sharp and electric as the arcade lights flashing around us. My pulse is still reeling from the pressure of his lips against my neck, his words lingering like a dark promise. For a moment, I don’t trust myself to move, to breathe. But I manage to pull away—break this spell he’s weaving. I force a laugh, stepping out of his reach and giving him a playful shove. “I think I’ve had enough of ‘fun’ for one night,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, even though everything inside me is still spinning.

Baden watches me with those piercing silver eyes, his expression unreadable. “As you wish.”

I grab my bag and head toward the door, my heart thumping as I try to shake off the lingering heat. “Come on, I’ll drop you off at your car,” I call over my shoulder, not waiting to see if he’s following. The night air hits me like a slap in the face when we step outside. The cool breeze does little to calm the inferno swirling inside me, but I need space—physical space between us. Baden falls into step beside me, silent as we make our way back to the parking lot. I lead him to his car, and for a second, I expect him to say something. Maybe a thank you, maybe a parting remark about the night. But he just stares at me, his expression darker than it’s been all evening.

“Goodnight,” I mumble, already turning back to my car before he can respond. I pull out of the parking lot, my mind racing, trying to make sense of the feelings that are churning inside me. I head towards the one place that still makes sense—my campus. The library is stays open late and I maybe able to get some work done. But just as I turn onto the road, I glance in my rearview mirror and see it.

His car.

Following me.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my heart thudding. Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe he’s going the same way. But when I pull into my school’s library parking lot and park, he’s still behind me. The headlights of his Bugatti flash as he pulls into the spot beside mine, and my blood runs cold. Nope. This is not happening. I slam my car door shut and march over to his before he can even get out. My hands are shaking, but my voice comes out stronger than I feel. “What the hell are you doing? Are you following me?”

Baden steps out of the car, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes lock onto mine, and there’s something primal in them, something that sends a shiver down my spine. “Yes.”

I blink, taken aback by his bluntness. “Why?”

He takes a step toward me, his tall frame towering over mine, and I feel the air shift—heavy, charged with something dangerous. “Because you’re not safe.”

My heart skips a beat. “That’s not your decision to make.”

His jaw clenches, the silver in his eyes turning to molten steel. “You don’t get it, do you? I’ll do anything to protect you. Any. Thing.”

I swallow hard, my throat tightening at the intensity in his voice. “Baden—”

“You’re my One,” he growls, cutting me off, his eyes blazing with an emotion that sends a chill down my spine. “You don’t have to like it. Hell, I don’t like it. But it doesn’t change the fact.”

I take a step back, my pulse hammering in my ears. “What are you saying?”

He moves closer, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. “No one,” he says, his voice low, dangerous, “is going to lay a finger on what belongs to me. Ever.” His words hang in the air like a threat, a promise, and I’m left standing there, frozen in place as the weight of his declaration settles over me. I open my mouth to respond, but the words won’t come. Because for the first time, I realize just how deep this connection between us runs—and how dangerous it could be.