Page 13 of Secondhand Smoke
The bell dinged as he entered, and Barrett toyed with the rings on his fingers as he approached her. She didn’t seem to notice his entrance, too focused on a deep-red wood guitar hanging on the wall.
He had to swallow once or twice as he approached, but he leaned forward a little closer than he meant until he was right next to her head. “So, youareinterested in guitars.”
She yelped and jumped away from him, putting distance between them.
Barrett grinned, admittedly pleased with her reaction. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He lifted his hands and took a step back. His apology was genuine, but his amused grin probably wasn’t selling her on it.
“You didn’t,” she lied. Her voice was soft, timid, which was contrary to the persona he’d observed over the years. Shewas the outgoing sophomore homecoming queen who chattered happily along with everyone.
Staring in front of him now, at the girl with hunched shoulders and hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, he couldn’t imagine her surrounded by an adoring crowd.
It was a bit of a shock, really.
“You’re looking for me?” Barrett felt it was wrong to focus on the details he’d remembered from back then. So much had changed.
“I, was, umm …” She looked away, avoiding his eyes. Maybe she felt as awkward about this as he did. It was the first time they’d actually spoken to each other, aside from the brief encounter the other day. This time, she wasn’t running away. Yet. “I wanted to thank you.”
Barrett huffed a perplexed chuckle. Not because it was funny, but because how the hell else was he supposed to react tothat? “Thank me? What for?”
She lowered her voice. “For not calling the police the other day.”
He raised a brow. “Why would I—” Oh. The corners of his lips quirked up, and a wry eyebrow rose. “Right, ’cause you were stealing.”
Her body jolted, similar to a hiccup, and she made a startled sound as her hand shot out and covered his mouth a second too late.
Her blue eyes went wide as she registered their position, and Barrett’s chest inflated. A lot of firsts today: first conversation, first touch.
“You could take me to dinner first,” he murmured into her palm.
She jumped backward. “Sorry. Sorry.” Her face scrunched up. She wiped her hand against her shorts, and Barrett couldn’t be more thrilled by the entire scenario. “Yes, because ofthat.”
“Well, if you’re here because you’re worried, don’t be. I don’t want the cops anywhere near me,” he said, no further explanation needed, but he felt like it anyway. “It’d be bad news if they found your bike in my van.”
If she were a puppy, her ears would shoot upwards. “You have my bike?”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it. I avoid thieves at all costs.” He grinned.
Her face flushed again.
“I’m just messing with you, Duncan.”
Her lips pursed together, and she glanced down at her hands. “I know.”
His smile faltered. “Okay, now you’re making me feel bad. Don’t look so sad.”
“Sorry.”
She still didn’t look up, so Barrett did what he could.
He bent, so his face was level with hers, and forced her to make eye contact with him. Her gaze flicked up to his, and she looked uncertain, nervous even. Shehadsprinted away from him the other day. The fact that she wasn’t even flinching away from him now was a considerable contrast to that. He’d take it.
“Instead of apologizing, why don’t you ask me for your bike now?”
Her chest rose in a deep breath. “May I have my bike back please?”
“Why didn’t you say so?” He winked. “It’s right outside.”
He turned on his heel and crossed the store so the annoying door chime would cover his panted breaths.
