Page 19 of Breaking the Alpha
His terrible sleep was interrupted night after night by the business phone ringing at all hours.Cars drove by slowly at all hours, headlights off and windows tinted.Whatever crap Ryder Drayson had brought onto the heads of Serpent’s Tongue and Birch didn’t end with the dealer’s incarceration.His clients, maybe even his bosses, were still lurking around the tattoo shop.And that meant they were lurking close to Angelina.
The thought didn’t sit well with him.
So here he was, highly caffeinated and willing to admit that his plan to check in with her, say hello, and indulge in a little harmless flirtation was failing miserably.
This wasn’t a little harmless flirtation.Not by a long shot.
This was a goddamn connection train, and it was barreling full speed ahead.
None of his casual questions ever led him where they were supposed to.He asked her how her night went, she had him talking about a hamster he had as a kid that he hadn’t thought about for years.He brought up movies and ended up confessing his deep-seated fear of the dark, something he only ever admitted to his youngest brother, Grey.He commented on the pink orchid sitting in the sun in her window display and then somehow ended up telling her about his mom’s wall of sweet peas she’d grown every year until she’d walked out on him and his brothers.Then he told her about how fewer and fewer had sprouted over the years until one summer, there were none.
He’d known Windy Leigh for almost a year before he’d told her anything about his parents.Of course, she never asked, so dodging questions about his less-than-ideal upbringing was easy.
Angelina didn’t ask, either.But something about her quiet acceptance of everything he said struck a chord deep in his head, causing him to run off at the mouth without the filter he had his whole life.There wasn’t a hint of pity coming from her.If anything, it was almost like she got it in a way only someone who grew up rough could.
Except she shared nothing, gave no piece of herself away.It was unnerving to feel so exposed and accepted while she remained a complete mystery.She was a master at dodging even the most innocuous of personal questions and turning them around on him.And as much as it frustrated him to realize she was being selective in what she told him, he knew better than most why a silent tongue was often a safe one.
Time was moving in a weird way, passing at a snail’s pace whenever their conversation was interrupted by a customer and blasting ahead whenever she sat across from him, her amber eyes on his, taking in his every word.
He learned she was fine with spiders but terrified of beetles.She thought dandelions were pretty, and she blew their seeds around every chance she got.She grew up in foster homes, but how many and why were two mysteries that remained unanswered.
A happy client clutching a paper bag waltzed out the door and Angelina returned to the table, flipping her skirt out as she sat.The one simple motion drew his attention directly to the delicate ribbons lacing up her calves from the soles of her shoes.
She had incredible legs.As a leg man, he was fully appreciating the view until she stretched her foot toward his knee and tapped it.
“Sorry.”He grinned, his gaze snapping back to her face.“I’d lie and say I was admiring your shoes, but I have it on good authority that you’re a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out untruths.”
“That I am.”With a smile, she tilted her head, her tell that she was studying him with a fraction more intensity than before.“You look tired.”
It was a perfect opening for him to explain the mess he was navigating.Navigating by avoiding for now, but navigating nonetheless.He could give her the most bare-bones of details, hope that she’d fill in the rest with an internet search later on, and put an end to this growing obsession that he was nurturing just a little too much for a man who was mid-divorce, mid-imploding career, and full-blown character assassination.
Except he didn’t want her to look at him with anything other than the sweet concern she had now or the intense passion her amber eyes held when she talked about her shop.So instead of unloading on her, he took a different route, excusing himself for a piercing appointment that didn’t exist and promising to return tomorrow.
*
River stood outsideWholly Yours holding two caramel coffees and savored the view of Angelina standing on a step ladder in a blue sundress, hanging metal suns from hooks in the ceiling.The dress’ fitted bodice accented her curves perfectly, flaring out to a full skirt made of strips of cotton and tulle.The honeyed strands of her hair were twisted and braided, mingling with the wild, darker curls and held in place with thin turquoise ribbons.Her white flats were on the floor, ready for her when she climbed down and slid her feet back in, her skirt fluttering around her as she kneed the ladder closed and leaned it against the back wall.
And although he could probably enjoy the view for another hour, there were two cups of coffee burning his palms.
He was one step into the shop when she turned to him with a smile.
“Sleep well?”
Handing her one of the drinks, he scoffed.“Am I right in guessing you’re the one who left the pillow and blanket in front of Serpent’s Tongue last night?”
She cocked a single brow.“What gave it away?The ethically sourced canvas bag from Mexico or the fact that the matching sheets are draped in my store window?”
“The bag, of course.I can spot quality hand-stitching from a mile away.”He smirked as he stepped in closer and passed her one of the cups.“But thank you.I actually slept better last night than I have in a while.”
A look of satisfaction crossed her face and she took a sip of her coffee.“Mmmm, this is the perfect Saturday afternoon treat.”She took another sip and licked her lips, sending his mind into the gutter.“So am I going to get an explanation about why you’re sleeping on that small sofa every night when you could be at your brothers’ house in a bed your feet don’t dangle off of?”
He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged.“It’s not really a coffee-time kind of story.More of an after-work-dinner kind of story, if you’re free tonight.”
He could almost see the gears turning in her head.But whether she was trying to figure out what he wasn’t telling her or thinking about how to dodge the offer he’d laid out he couldn’t tell.
“Well,” she finally said, her tone and thoughtful expression not giving him much hope, “I reserve Saturday nights for my self-indulgences.It helps me maintain balance.”
Disappointment coursed through him, but he did his best to maintain a neutral expression because even if she was brushing him off, it was with another tidbit about her and he wanted anything she willingly gave.“What kind of indulgences are we talking about?Wine?Chocolate?”
