SPV

Sookie was running late. Her mind was frantic as she rushed around her room, throwing things into her purse and desperately trying to find her shoes. She threw her long blonde hair impatiently over her shoulder as she dug through her closet, looking for her pink converse low tops. Even though it was getting slightly cool, she had found a clean pair of khaki shorts and a pink v-neck top. Now she just needed the shoes.

"Aha!" She found them, buried under the mounds of clothes she had piled there earlier in the week. She desperately needed to do laundry, and had hid it in the back of the closet so Gran wouldn't see it.

It made her feel like a high school student to be so sneaky, but she knew if Gran saw the piles she would do all the laundry, and Sookie didn't want her hauling the heavy clothes around. Gran just wasn't as young as she used to be, and was always pushing her limits. Sookie felt bad enough living with her grandmother when she was twenty-four years old, but she figured it would be a mutually beneficial relationship. Sookie was saving money for college classes by living at home, and she was able, most of the time, to be a big help to Gran around the house. Lately, however, she just hadn't had time to be of much benefit. She had doubled up on classes this quarter, in addition to her part-time waitressing job at Merlotte's bar, and had really slacked off at home.

I'll do tomorrow, Sookie promised herself, as she scrambled into the shoes and out her bedroom door. She had a rare two days off, and was pretty upset about the way she was being forced to spend her Saturday night.

She stopped in the kitchen to give her grandmother a kiss and grab a cookie out of the jar. "I'm off to babysit, Gran."

"Good luck sweetheart," Gran smiled at her. "Make sure and tell me all about Mr. Northman. I confess to a big curiosity about our new Yankee neighbor. I've heard tell he's quite a handsome man."

"Gran!" Sookie shook her head. "I didn't know you were in the market for a new boyfriend." She heard Gran chuckling at her teasing as she slipped out the back door and hopped in her old yellow Nova.

Saying her usual short prayer that her car would start, Sookie turned the key, cranked up the radio, and pulled out of the driveway.

It was a short ride down Hummingbird Lane to old Southfork Road, and then just down the road to the old Patterson house. Northman house now, Sookie corrected herself. All of Bon Temps was gossiping about their newest addition. Evidently, Mr. Northman was a widower with a young daughter, and nothing set off Southern sympathy more than a man raising a child alone.

Sookie wasn't too happy about being called to babysit for the town's newest residents. Nothing against them, but she was too old to babysit. She hadn't done it since high school, was entirely too busy to fit it in to her schedule. Evidently, someone in Gran's church had mentioned that Mr. Northman needed a babysitter desperately for Thursday night, and Gran had volunteered her. Gran had asked, and with the guilt she was feeling at not helping out lately, she just couldn't say no.

Maybe the kid will go to sleep early, and I can get some studying done. Sookie only had three finals to go, and then she was out for summer break. She had considered taking classes through the summer, as she had the past two years, but she knew she needed a break. It wasn't good to get burnt out with only three quarters to go.

Three quarters, and then I'll be done! She told herself, excited at the prospect of finally becoming a teacher. There was even a spot opening at the elementary school next fall, with Mrs. Bailey retiring. Sookie thought she had a good chance at it, since everyone knew how hard she had worked and what a great teacher she would make. She had even promised her boss, Sam, that she would continue to work at Merlotte's on weekends and in the summers after she got her teaching job. The future's so bright, I gotta wear shades, she thought with a smile, as she pulled into the Patterson – no, Northman place.

The house was typical new Southern. It was a two-story farmhouse, painted a sunny yellow – a recent change, and vast improvement from the Patterson's muddy brown – and had a white wraparound porch. There was even a new swing hanging from chains a little to the left of the front door. White shutters and a front bay window completed the cheerful look.

All it needs is a few flowers and a yellow lab running around the yard Sookie thought happily, as she bounded up the front porch and rang the doorbell. Briefly, it occurred to her that she knew nothing about this new family. Not the daughter's name, or age, or anything. She shrugged briefly. Whatever it was, she could handle it. Sookie put a smile on her face as she heard feet pounding toward her, and the door began to open.

The smile quickly died as the door opened to reveal a slim waist, a broad, muscled chest, shoulders that filled the doorway, and up to the most beautiful face Sookie had ever seen. She felt her mouth drop open and her eyes widened.

"Hi," she heard him say, in a deep, smooth voice. His smile was devastating. "I'm Eric Northman."

EPV

I love my daughter. I love my daughter. I love my daughter. Eric continued the mantra in his head, hoping that it would help control the anger and frustration he was feeling at his eight-year-old terror.

"Hadley Elizabeth Northman, you get your rear-end down here right now!" He bellowed, and continued frantically trying to clean the kitchen. He was no housekeeper, he knew that. Hell, no one expected a single father to be good at anything. But he had his pride, and wanted to make sure his house was at least presentable to the babysitter. God knows, he'd already discovered just how quickly the grapevine in Bon Temps worked, and the last thing he wanted was some teenage babysitter spreading the word that the new neighbor was a slob and unfit father.

Eric finished shoving dishes in the dishwasher and started quickly wiping down the counters. He still had to get dressed, and it was close to five o'clock already. He had to be in Shreveport for a business meeting by six, and would never make it at this rate.

Eric turned to throw the dishcloth in the sink, and caught site of the family room through the wide doorway.

It looked like a Barbie doll massacre: bodies were strewn everywhere, in various stages of undress, with miniature vehicles, animals and furniture scattered amongst them. He had told Hadley to clean this up hours ago, while he was finishing up his proposal. Instead of cleaning, the mess had become exponentially worse.

"HADLEY!"

"Right here, Dad," a little face poked out from around the doorway.

Eric's anger dulled, as it did every time he saw his daughter's face. Everyone said she looked just like him, but he only ever saw his wife's eyes, those deep forest green eyes that dominated Hadley's face, as they had dominated Felicia's. It took his breath away. The spark of mischief in those eyes, Eric was willing to concede, she had inherited from her father.

"Hadley, you need to clean up the Barbie explosion in the family room. Right now."

"Daadd," Hadley whined. "I can't clean it up now. I just got it all arranged!"

Eric's mouth gaped open. "Arranged? Into what, total chaos?"

Hadley's signature giggle bubbled out of her as she shook her head. "No, Daddy. It's a movie set in Hollywood, and they're just getting ready to shoot the scene when the volcano erupts and takes out the town. I can't move anything yet, it will totally ruin everything!"

She had imagination, he'd give her that. Unfortunately, her creativity often resulted in destruction. "Well, I'm the director, and I say you can shoot the scene tomorrow. Clean it up." He gave her the famous Northman steel-blue gaze, accompanied by a raised eyebrow. "Now."

His daughter sighed heavily before muttering, "Yes sir," and trudging into the family room.

Eric waited long enough to make sure she was really cleaning before rushing upstairs to check the condition of the bedrooms. Amazingly, Hadley's room was pretty clean. The Universal Studio tour evidently only included the family room.

Satisfied that the whole town wouldn't be gossiping about his dirty house, Eric hurried into his bedroom to get dressed. This meeting tonight was essential if he wanted to get his new nightclub approved for zoning. Shreveport was no metropolis, but it was in desperate need of entertainment, and had the population to support it, unlike Bon Temps. Whether the city council would approve him to build the nightclub was another story. He would have to sell it, and turn on the charm. Something he was, luckily, very good at.

Eric pulled on black dress pants over his boxer briefs, and threw on a white fitted undershirt. He found his lucky tie, but not the blue dress shirt his best friend, Pam, said made his eyes "pop".

Groaning, he grabbed his socks and shoes, and hurried downstairs. The shirt was probably in the laundry room, with the other dry cleaning he had left hanging there.

Eric had just enough time to glimpse the family room, and its relative absence of Barbie detritus, before the doorbell rang. He did an about face and hurried to answer the door.

The ladies at the church had assured him that this new babysitter was qualified and responsible. He would normally take more time in researching a babysitter's qualification before placing his daughter in their care, but Eric was, admittedly, desperate. With a silent prayer that this teenager was appropriate and without facial piercings, he opened the door.

Holy Mary mother of God, the prayer changed as he took in the sight of the buxom blonde in his doorway. This was no pimply pierced teenager. She had to be in her early twenties. His eyes roamed over her long, tanned legs, flared hips that dipped into a small waist, and then belled out again into an abundant chest. Eric forced his eyes higher to her sweet face, blue eyes, and honey blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. Of all things, it crossed his mind that they shared the same hair color, before he realized he was staring.

"Hi," he smiled, turning on his charm. "I'm Eric Northman."

There was a definite pause. Her mouth was open, and her stare made Eric start to wonder if something was wrong. Was his fly down or something? He wanted to glance down to check, but couldn't seem to break eye contact with the woman.

Suddenly, she seemed to snap to attention. "Hi Mr. Northman," her accent was subtle and sweet. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse." She placed her small hand in his and shook firmly.

Eric couldn't help flirting, as he kept her hand in his and wrapped his other hand around it. He pulled her into the house, toward him, and leaned down close to her ear. "Call me Eric. Please."

She seemed small; maybe only five and half feet tall to his six and a half. But she was curvaceous. She had a figure that reminded him of Marilyn Monroe, rounded in all the right places. He caught a whiff of some sweet, fruity scent as she tiled her head up to look at him, their lips mere inches apart.

Oh, he smiled in delight. This is going to be fun.