She had no right to be wearing that.

Monroe sipped idly at his coffee as he watched his new neighbor work in her garden. The thick curtains hid him from her view. The window was open a quarter inch, letting the spring breeze send her scent wafting through his house. It was one of soil, sweat, mint body lotion and the herbs she was planting. Basil and rosemary, respectively; All pleasant, comforting smells… that were almost completely overpowered by the stench of fresh paint coming out of the many open windows of her house.

A ribbed white t-shirt that tight had no place in a civilized society, Monroe decided.

He took another gulp of the steaming hot brew. It scorched the back of his throat, but he showed no sign of irritation. The man watched the woman wipe her brow and stand; pulling off dirty gloves as she did. The Blutbad's brown eyes flickered over her slender, somewhat bottom heavy frame before he stepped away from the window.

In the several weeks he had been watching her, Monroe had only had one conversation with the young woman. It was at his mailbox, just as she was moving in. It had been, by far one of the most strained and awkward conversations of his life. He had done himself a favor by repressing it. From what he recalled, however, it had gone something like this:

"Hi, I'm Gwen Something-or-Other."

A brisk, sweaty handshake.

"I'm Monroe. Just Monroe."

"Cool. Well, we should hang out sometime, get a coffee."

"Yeah, sure." Then he all but ran back into his house before she could set a date or ask any questions. Not a proud moment in his book. Monroe had since spent literally five weeks wondering whether or not she was hitting on him or just being friendly.

He set his mug down on the table. All but falling down on to the flat bench that was attached to the leg press, he sighed. In truth, he knew a total of four things about Miss Something-or-Other.

One: she had a taste for immodestly tight clothing. On one hand, he considered this a positive. She had a nice little body and he enjoyed seeing it. On the other, it was easily one of the most bothersome elements of his daily life at the moment(second only to Nick). Or at the very least one of the most distracting. His blood would race. His protective instict kicked in after he had deemed her a potiental mate. His eyes would sharpen at anyone she spoke to. Monroe would find himself baring his teeth at anyone who lingered in front of her house. Blutbad instincts were a hassle, and her short-shorts(and the male attention they attracted) were not helping.

Two: She was consistently coming and going at all hours. This wouldn't annoy him so much if it didn't affect his own personal sleep schedule. At all hours of the night his room was lit by the headlights of her car shining through his window. If that didn't wake him, the soft roar of whatever god awful 80s hair-band she had plugged into her car's stereo did.

Monroe always woke just long enough to smell whatever wonderful concoction she was bringing into her house and hear her hum whatever song she had been listening to all the way up her steps. Then he made a vague, half-hearted mental note to shut his window the next morning before he fell back asleep.

Three: She was most certainly growing weed in her basement. Or maybe cooking meth. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on in her house, but he knew it had to be illegal. Strange hissing and odd, unfamiliar smells often drifted from her windows. Which were always freaking open. Every window in the house actually. He knew for a fact she had some sort of grow op. in her basement, and he had seen various boxes labeled FRAGILE when she had moved in.

And the fourth, and easily most frustrating thing, was her scent. Only when they were at the mailbox had he noticed something off with his neighbor. She had been friendly, with a wide toothy smile and a low, husky voice. All good things. Even the soft underlying scent wasn't bad- just different. Dark, sweet and somehow sticky; like she had molasses in her blood.

A faint ding caught his attention.

He growled and almost kicked the weights he had been pressing on to the floor. They clanged loudly against the top rail before dropping back to his feet. Monroe grunted. Rolling out from under the machine, he went back to his now lukewarm coffee. He ran his tongue over his sharpened canines.

Sometimes he really did miss the simplicity of being wild. Seeing something you want and taking it… In fact he could think of several different ways he'd like to take her. A few choice positions rose in his mind and he forced down another swallow of coffee.

Monroe crossed back over to the window in a few long strides. Pulling back the curtain, he found himself peering into her kitchen window. His appreciative eyes were met with the sight of Gwen's navel as she reached above the sink to get something. A glittering pink piercing made his breath catch. The cup shattered in his hand as he gripped it tightly.

But he didn't pay it any mind as a pair of surprised brown eyes caught his own.

The woman's brows rose and she lifted a hand in greeting to him. Monroe just stared at her before turning away. He closed his curtains tightly and went to fetch a dustpan... and a mop.

Unable to find the latter, he was forced to settle for a wash cloth. The sharp porcelain pieces were tossed carelessly in the blue plastic dust pan, and he had just finished sloping up the cold coffee when there was a knock on his back door. Monroe froze. Maybe if he was still enough she would go away. But, much like Nick, she was insistent, and didn't seem to be going anywhere.

With the cloth in the sink and broken cup in the garbage, the Blutbad slowly made his way over to the back door. Pressing down some of his unruly hair, he realized too late his hand was wet from the coffee and repressed a groan. Monroe opened the door.

Gwen, hair surprisingly up for a change, smiled at him. "Hiya."

"Uh, hi." He swallowed, not used to seeing her bare neck. Her white t-shirt was a v-neck, he noticed. With gritted teeth, he forced himself to keep his eyes up. "Can I help you?"

With a cocky, loop-sided grin, the brunette nodded. "You're going to have lunch with me."

"I am?"

"You are," She nodded over to her own backyard. "Come on, then. I got pizza and beer."

Monroe blinked at her abrupt forwardness. With a stunned nod, he shrugged, "Okay."

Gwen's smirk blossomed into a bright, genuine smile. It made his stomach clench. Without another word, she crossed over to the chain link fence that separated their yard. She motioned with him to follow with an excited wave, and he was reminded vaguely of a small child trying to force their parents' to hurry up. It was an eager, quick motion…and he found it very cute. With an exasperated roll of the eyes, he followed her.

She slipped through the opening and unlatched the lock on her own fence's gate. The curvy brunette held it open for him.

"Pizza's not gonna stay hot forever, doll."

Somewhat reluctantly, the Blutbad passed through the gate. A whiff of that unique, frustrating smell caught him off guard again as he brushed past her.

"So, Just Monroe," Gwen led him over to a rather cramped little deck that was only elevated maybe a foot off the ground. It literally only had one step. He wondered what the purpose of having it at all was as she went on, "How've you been?"

"Fine." He swallowed. There was barely enough room on the 'deck' for two lawn chairs and a table that was at most the size of a night stand. "Yourself?"

The woman continued to smile at him. "Great, take a seat and help yourself. I'll go grab the beers."

Monroe's dark eyes dropped down to her well rounded ass as she walked away. He could feel an approving growl rising in his chest, but managed to suppress it. With a touch of apprehension, he sat down in the lawn chair closest to the edge of the 'deck'. The air was heavy with paint fumes from her open window, but thankfully the pizza helped mask it somewhat.

Gwen reappeared with a small blue cooler. She set it down on the little space left on the table. It almost toppled over, so she opted to just set it on the ground.

"So…" Monroe cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter when her dark eyes met his with curiosity. "What brought all this on?"

"Well…" The woman grinned crookedly at him. "It's always been my goal to charm the neighborhood recluse out in to the open with booze."

"I'm the neighborhood recluse?"

"According to the neighbors."

"Well, congrats," He smirked at her. "Mission accomplished."

Not saying anything else on the matter, she popped opened the lid of the pizza box. "I got cheese, is that cool?"

"Yeah, it's fine." He took the paper plate that was handed to him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, babe." Gwen opened the cooler and took two cans out.

Monroe preferred bottles, but said nothing, just took one from her with an appreciative nod. They sat in silence a few moments before he gathered up the courage to speak. Wooing women wasn't exactly his strong point…at least Gwen was making it easy on him. Her body language was open and friendly, her posture straight but not stiff.

"Are you from Portland?" The Blutbad asked.

The young woman nodded. "I lived her when I was little."

"Why'd you move back?" Why would anyone move back? He thought to himself.

"My grandma still lives here- she runs a bakery out of her house. Asked me to come up and help her out with it." Gwen explained. Her tongue flickered over her bottom lip. "Know what that means?"

I could lick frosting off you while you bake naked for me? Instead of saying that, however, Monroe asked, "What?"

"Cupcakes for dessert."

They shared a smile.

A/N: Verdict while I work on the next one? Where Monroe shows his weird affections to her?