Page 29 of Demon Loved
He nodded and ate the brisket, washing it down with a swallow of iced tea. “What’s your favorite color?”
Maybe that was the sort of thing you asked on a first date, but Bree was just glad he’d posed such a simple question to her. “Blue,” she said, “but more like a teal or turquoise kind of blue. What’s yours?”
“I suppose I hadn’t thought about it,” he responded, and she found herself lifting an eyebrow.
Were there really people in the world who didn’t have a color preference?
“Oh, come on,” she urged him. “There must be something you gravitate toward more than others.”
His expression turned thoughtful. “Then green, I suppose. There isn’t much of it where I — ”
The words broke off then, as if he’d been about to say something he hadn’t intended. Once again, Bree allowed herself an inner frown.
Had he been about to say there wasn’t a lot of green where he came from?
Considering his home base was Los Angeles, she didn’t find that too strange. Lots of people had lawns there, and she had a vague impression that there were golf courses everywhere, too, but the native landscape was almost as dry as it was here in Arizona.
Probably better not to press him on the subject.
“Well, I like green a lot, too,” she said cheerfully. “It’s my second favorite color.”
They were sitting across from one another, so there was no mistaking the way his eyes — also green, although not the bright green of fresh grass but the dark, smoky color of a pine forest, with flecks of amber and gold — held hers for a moment.
“I’m glad we have that in common.”
Color touched her cheeks, but she told herself it wasn’t a big deal, not when it would probably be hidden by the blush she’d applied earlier, or maybe just the regular flush she got from sitting out in the sun for any length of time.
However, she tried not to let awkwardness overwhelm her. After all, this was the reason why you went out with a person multiple times — to get to know one another, to find out if you really were compatible.
“Since we’re on the subject of favorites,” she said, and hoped it didn’t sound as if she was forcing the issue, “what about music?”
Bill set down his fork and reached for his cup of iced tea again. “I like what you play.”
Well, that was nice of him, but that wasn’t what she’d asked. “Before you heard me play.”
Now he smiled, as if he’d guessed that his first answer hadn’t been the right one. “Guitar,” he said. “Solo classical guitar, I suppose. It’s…soothing. But I very much like what I’ve heard from you as well.”
Once again, their eyes met. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to see — maybe another flash of the amusement she’d spied just a few seconds earlier — but this was nothing like that.
No, it was naked need.
Warm blood rushed through her, but then he blinked and the moment was gone.
And they were sitting here in public, surrounded by couples and families enjoying their food truck lunches, and she knew there was no way in the world she could possibly ask him what he’d been thinking.
If she hadn’t just imagined what she saw, of course.
Then she heard the voice of Brad Otis, one of the organizers of the festival, coming through the speakers, and she realized with infinite relief that the music was about to start.
She wouldn’t have to say anything at all, could pretend as if that moment had never happened.
“Welcome, everyone, to the tenth annual Jerome folk festival!”
Everyone applauded, and Brianna set down her sandwich so she could join in. Bill clapped as well, although she noticed he did so only after everyone else had started to put their hands together, almost as if he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do until he’d seen other people doing it.
“We’re kicking off five hours of music today, and four hours tomorrow,” Todd Otis continued. “Our first performers are Skinny Lizard, down here today from Payson. Let’s give them a warm welcome!”
Everyone started clapping again, and Todd stepped away from the microphone so the band could come on stage. Although Bree didn’t know them well, she’d heard Skinny Lizard before and knew they tended to be a little more bluegrass than most of the other acts that would be performing today.
