"How big is the man, and where is he?"

"He's about six foot four or five, and he's asleep," I said. "I'd guess a thirty-four waist, and he's got long legs and broad shoulders." I reminded myself to check the size label on Eric's jeans, which were still in the dryer out on the back porch.

"What kind of clothes?"

"Work clothes."

"Anybody I know?"

"Me," said a much deeper voice.

Jason whipped around as if he was expecting an attack, which shows his instincts aren't so bad, after all. But Eric looked as unthreatening as a vampire his size can look. And he'd obligingly put on the brown velour bathrobe that I'd left in the second bedroom. It was one I'd kept here for Bill, and it gave me a pang to see it on someone else. But I had to be practical; Eric couldn't wander around in red bikini underwear—at least, not with Jason in the house.

Jason goggled at Eric and cast a shocked glance at me. "This is your newest man, Sookie? You didn't let any grass grow under your feet." He didn't know whether to sound admiring or indignant. Jason still didn't realize Eric was dead. It's amazing to me that lots of people can't tell for a few minutes. "And I need to get him clothes?"

"Yes. His shirt got torn last night, and his blue jeans are still dirty."

"You going to introduce me?"

I took a deep breath. It would have been so much better if Jason hadn't seen Eric. "Better not," I said.

They both took that badly. Jason looked wounded, and the vampire looked offended.

"Eric," he said, and stuck out a hand to Jason.

"Jason Stackhouse, this rude lady's brother," Jason said.

They shook, and I felt like wringing both their necks.

"I'm assuming there's a reason why you two can't go out to buy him more clothes," Jason said.