Page 17 of Strike
“You seem driven,” he commented. “That’s a good thing.”
“I suppose.”
“You don’t think so?” He started picking at the label on his beer again.
“I’ve sacrificed a lot,” I replied, watching his fingers. “It takes time and capital to open a shop, especially in the food business. There’s a lot of red tape. I’ve let a lot of things fall by the wayside. Travel, friends…relationships.”
His lips quirked, and I bit the inside of my cheek. That was the first hint of a smile he’d given me, andman, oh man…
“So, no boyfriend?” he asked, making my insides flutter.
I shook my head, and his smile widened even further. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but I leapt headfirst into the biggest one of all. Did he…likeme?
“You?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“It’s a long story.” He glanced away, the shutters slamming shut—not that they were open every far in the first place.
“What do you do…for, uh, work?” I asked lamely.
“Nothing special.” He shrugged and wrapped his hand around his beer. I watched as he lifted the bottle to his lips and sipped. When he set the bottle down, he studied my features, his gaze lingering on my lips. Or at least, I thought that was what happened.
Was it my imagination running wild again? Something passed between us, and it was almost heavy enough for me to reach out and grasp it.
He checked his watch, and I squashed down a pang of jealousy. Totally my imagination.
He had a whole life outside of me, the woman who was still a stranger to him. He had people and friends and a job, not to mention the string of women he was probably dating. He’d said he was single, but that didn’t mean he didn’t already have half of Melbourne on speed dial.
“Do you have somewhere to be?” I asked a little too sharply.
His eyebrow quirked. “I have a commitment I need to honor.”
I scowled and reached for my drink. Rather than question him further, I downed the rest of my gin and tonic.He probably had a hole he needed to honor with his cock.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“Northcote,” I replied. “I can get the tram pretty much all the way.”
“I can wait with you if you like.”
“Yeah,” I said with a smile, my jealousy toning down some. “I’d like that.”
Gathering my handbag, we left the bar, Mark holding the door open for me. We crossed the street between the cars that were banked up in traffic and walked down the block to the tram stop.
Standing side by side, we fell into another awkward silence. There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t find the words. I wasn’t even sure if he would listen let alone give a stuff. He’d haunted every moment since the night of the fire, and now it was becoming increasingly like a first date from hell. There was a wall—that I suspected was of his making—and I hated it.
I could see the tram in the distance, rolling along the tracks at a snail’s pace behind the wall of traffic.
There was something there. I could feel it vibrating through my nerve endings. It couldn’t be one-sided. It just couldn’t.
“Can I see you again?” I asked, glancing at him.
Mark tensed slightly, hesitation written all over his face.
“Listen, Callie—” he began, but I shook my head.
