© 2026, Vampires Love Garlic, by Ashley Chapman. All rights reserved.

31

Bringing a Vampire Home

Heather

Isn’t nearly as dramatic as the movies make it seem.

McKenzie can come in without an invitation, though he still waits for one. That’s just his way. A gentleman even though the house is small and simple in comparison to his mansion.

I asked him to come home with me after dinner to meet my Oma. He didn’t hesitate in his answer, and now here he is, walking through the Richmond Hill house with that confident air that has made him millions. He’s interested in all the decorations on the walls. Oma likes her German artwork and phrases, and they are scattered throughout the house in calligraphy and paintings. The furniture is worn but comfortable, and everything smells like flowers and cookies.

“Oma?” I call, guiding McKenzie through the living room and toward the kitchen.

“In here, Heather! I’ve got cookies for your visitor!”

I lead McKenzie into the kitchen, and he wastes no time. He steps away from me, holds out his hand to Oma, and greets her with a dazzling smile.

“Oma, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“What’s this?” Oma asks, her sparkling blue eyes looking from his hand to his face. “Too formal, son. Especially given the relationship between you and my granddaughter.”

“Relationship?” I ask, feeling a strong blush coming on.

“Don’t hide it,” McKenzie teases, accepting Oma’s hug and letting her squeeze him tightly. “You did invite me home, Heather.”

“Ooh, I’m going to like you,” Oma says with a laugh, releasing him. “Cookies, Kenzie? Or is it McKenzie? Which would you prefer? Heather only refers to you as Kenzie. And she didn’t do you justice.” She stands back and looks him over. I can feel my whole face burning. My Oma is loving, welcoming… and unfiltered. “You must have some German in you somewhere,” she states, glancing over his blond hair. “You’re certainly handsome. I can’t deny I very much enjoyed hearing Heather go on about the towel episode. Something about washboard abs?”

“What kind of cookies did you make?” I burst out, opening the oven door and looking at the chocolate chip cookies inside. “They smell amazing, Oma!”

“I’m about to head to bed. I’ll leave you two kids to yourselves,” Oma says, her smile mischievous. “Just try not to make too much noise.”

“Oma!”

She hands me an oven mitt and winks.

“Kenzie, Heather has an attic room. Her choice. I didn’t banish her away from the rest of the house. It’s not above my room, so if you decide to get frisky, you won’t be disturbing me any.”

“My sweet little Christian grandmother,” I groan as Oma leaves the room, whistling some Elvis tune on her way out.

McKenzie laughs, the deep sound rolling through the kitchen like it’s always belonged here.

“Is she always so open?” he asks, leaning against the counter as I pull out the cookies and turn the oven off.

“She used to be worse,” I say with a smile as I place the cookies on a cooling rack. I offer him one of the treats, and he takes it, biting into it thoughtfully. “I can bring you home now, if you’d like.”

I’m suddenly uncomfortable. He had asked to meet Oma, and now she’s in bed and I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t have a huge television or a secret tunnel to show him. I’m offering cookies to a famous man in a simple house, and I’m not super interesting.

“I’d like to see your room,” he says quietly, almost as though he knows I’m doubting myself.

“My room?”

“You’ve seen most of my house.” He shrugs. “I’d love to see who you are when no one’s looking.”

“You’re just trying to give Oma something to tease me about tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” He grins. “Maybe I’m just interested in what you can do with an attic, after seeing everything you’ve done with a basement. You like pirates. Is the attic pirate-themed, or perhaps World War II-related?”

He wants to see my room.

That shouldn’t feel so intimate, but it does. I think he really is trying to learn everything he can about me, and I begin to feel like maybe he really does care about me. I mean, I know I should have realized that by now, but I still find it unbelievable that he’s interested in a human like me. This man could have anyone.

“Here.” I smile at him and place two more cookies in his hand before taking two for myself. “I’ll show you.”

He catches my empty hand and laces his fingers through it as I lead him up the stairs to the second floor and then up another set of stairs to the attic. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about him seeing my room. What if he finds it childish and changes his mind when it comes to what he thinks about me?

I push open my bedroom door and try to hide my shyness as I lead him inside.

“Here it is,” I say and look at his face as he studies my room.

Silk wisteria and vines hang from the rafters. Paintings of Savannah line the walls. I have a queen-sized four-poster bed with silk drapes hanging from the canopy. There’s a desk littered with paperwork and my computer. A giant plush rug covers most of the floor. The room is cozy and comfortable, with one large circular window that looks out over the woods behind the house.

“There isn’t much to it,” I say softly. I have one small lamp on, giving the room a soft, romantic glow. I reach for a second lamp, but McKenzie puts his hand over mine.

“Stop,” he says and smiles, looking up at the ceiling. “I see what you did, Heather.”

He’s looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars that are scattered across the attic ceiling like diamonds. There’s a skylight just over my bed, visible through a parting in the sheer draperies. Through it, I can see the stars sparkling in a black velvet sky.

McKenzie reaches over and turns off the lonely lamp, shrouding us in darkness, leaving only my glowing stars and the actual heavenly lights to bathe us in their radiance.

“I’d like to see what you see,” he says, his hands finding my waist and squeezing gently. “May I lie on your bed?”

My brain gutter balls again.

“I’m sorry?” I squeak.

“I’d like to look at the stars. May I?”

This millionaire vampire is asking to lay on my bed and look up at the stars. He hasn’t said anything about removing clothing. He’s made no sexual advances whatsoever. His request is simple, and I’m picturing him without a shirt again.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper before thinking. “Yes, of course.”

He probably knows what was going on in my mind, but he graciously ignores it. He removes his coat and drapes it over my desk chair before he sits on the bed and unlaces his shoes. He swings his long legs up, scoots toward the middle of the bed, and puts his hands behind his head.

“What would I be thinking right now if I was Heather?” he asks aloud.

“Things you shouldn’t be thinking,” I blurt out.

He laughs then pats the empty space beside him.

“Come lie next to me,” he offers.

“Kenzie…”

“We’re only looking at the stars,” he says softly. “Unless you want me to start banging this headboard against the wall just to amuse your grandmother. You can leave the door open.” He settles more comfortably atop my comforter. “I’d tell you I don’t bite, but we both know that isn’t true. I just want you next to me. Nothing else.”

This hotter-than-life man is asking me to lie down next to him on my bed.

Oh my gosh again.

He has his vampire rules. Maybe I should start numbering how many times I think “oh my gosh” around him.

The attic door is open. He is fully dressed.

I sit on the edge of the bed and remove my jacket, trying not to think about how I’d love for him to help me take it off. I kick off my boots then move to his side and lie down.

My heart is racing so fast it might just burst out of my chest.

I’m in my attic, resting on my plush, sheer-curtained bed, with Savannah’s most gorgeous bachelor at my side.

Squeal!

“All right, so if I was Heather,” he says, his voice a pleasant rumble, “and I was under the blankets staring up at the stars, I think I’d be imagining I was on a pirate ship in the middle of the Atlantic.” He shifts beside me, his arm brushing mine, and I have to fight back a shiver of delight. “I can hear the sails snapping in the breeze. The wood planks are creaking. The ship probably smells like tar and sweat. Not a pleasant situation, but I’m Heather, so I’m thrilled.”

“Where am I going?” I ask, curiosity totally taking over my overstimulated brain.

“You’re sailing for Ocracoke, off the coast of North Carolina. Your captain is Blackbeard himself. You don’t know that an attack is waiting for you off shore. All you know is the salt in the air, the gentle rustling of the rigging, and the muted shanties of the pirates below deck.”

“And are you there?” I whisper, engrossed in his story.

“But of course.”

I smile and move closer to him. I rest my head on his arm and watch as the stars, the real ones, twinkle overhead.

“Nothing but the stars and ocean,” I say softly, reaching up as though I can touch the celestial bodies. “My crew singing ‘Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest’ as I swing softly in a hammock, the captain’s logs open on my chest. Edward Teach can write, but he’s asked me to put everything in the ship’s records. It’s the simple things like that that remind me characters such as Blackbeard and Anne Bonny were real. They would have had to keep an account of their attacks, their treasures, their food and crew. I would write your name in their book.”

“What would my name say?”

“McKenzie Bristol, First Mate.”

“First Mate?” he gasps, putting a hand over his heart. “You flatter me!”

“Your greatest crime is distracting the help.” I can’t help but giggle.

“And how do you envision me, as a vampire pirate?”

“The usual,” I say with a shrug. “Blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, one gold earring dangling from your right ear. You could die at sea, you know, and they say an earring would be worth enough to get you a proper burial. You always stand proudly at the helm, wind in your hair, green eyes burning into the horizon, shirt unlaced just enough.”

“While you rest there, writing in a hammock, your corset fitted exquisitely to show off your lovely body, your dark hair draped over and dragging against the deck with every fine sway? I’d make a rotten First Mate. I’d be too distracted. Your name would have to be in the book as well. Under ‘Captain’s Favorite’ or perhaps ‘Minstrel.’”

“Minstrel?” I laugh.

“You can’t convince me you wouldn’t be singing any pirate songs.”

“‘What do you do with a drunken sailor?’” I sing softly and then giggle, leaning up on one arm to look down at him. “You’re making fun of my history nerdiness, sir.”

“Not making fun. Never making fun,” he says, reaching up and tenderly stroking my hair out of my right eye. He tucks it behind my ear, and his fingers linger, brushing gently down my cheek. “I wouldn’t be able to stop looking at you. I’d run us aground.” His voice is quiet, thoughtful, and I am aware of each of his fingers as they stroke my skin.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” My words are barely a whisper, and I can feel a lump in my throat. I refuse to cry again in front of this man, but something about the intimacy of this scene, about him being with me is making my eyes misty.

“In your room?” he asks, that emerald gaze deep and focused as he glides his thumb across my jaw.

“Just here. With me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sits up, drapes his arms over his knees, and makes me feel like I’m the only thing in the room.

“You’re popular and rich. More than that, you’re kind and caring.”

“Wealth and power are tempestuous mistresses. They linger when the going is smooth, then find the next best suitor when the going gets tough. I value people far more than influence.” He smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “You,” he says, laying back down and stretching one arm toward me, “can stop thinking you’re less than you are. For my immediate worries, you can snuggle up next to me, if you’d like. I’d enjoy watching the stars just a little while longer. Makes me remember there are bigger things out there than my ridiculous problems.”

I lie back down and curl into him. For having a lower body temperature than a human, McKenzie is pleasantly comfortable. I rest my ear over his heart and sigh as he pulls my comforter over us. There’s something so soothing about his presence, so peaceful about having him here. There isn’t any pressure. There isn’t anything immoral.

Just me and McKenzie.