Page 125 of Smoke and Fire
“Pineville is fine. For now,” he tacked on.
“That’s good news!” I cried. “Isn’t Adventura summer camp east of the fire?”
“Yes.”
“So does a west wind mean it’s blowing to the west, or to the east?”
“East. West to east.”
I frowned. Was Sione safe? “That’s not good news.”
He shook his head. I waited, but he didn’t say anything else. His voice appealed to me though, so I’d have to keep the conversation going myself. No problem. I’d tackled more difficult challenges before, like live karaoke and Pele singing just after me. I propped my hands on my hips.
“So are you going to fight it?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Do you have the day off today?”
“Yeah.”
He stared at me, as if mentally preparing for the next question. I bit back an aggravated sigh and said, “Good talk,” before I spun around to leave.
I secretly hoped he’d call me back or grab my wrist again, but no such touch or call came. Egads, this man wouldn’t know how to converse if I provided a flow chart. For the next twenty minutes, I tried not to think about the intensity of his expression or the simple, one-word answers that left me still wanting more.
Duuumb.
When he appeared at the counter, money in hand, I tried not to jump out of surprise. His computer remained on the table, along with an open backpack that appeared bulky, as if it had several books inside.
“What’s up?” I asked.
He slid a twenty across the counter, then his cup. “Another coffee, please. Keep the change.”
“Sure.”
We remained quiet, and I kept my eyes oriented on the task at hand. Meanwhile, I could feel his gaze studying me. I had the absurd thought that, if this were a movie, he would burst into rapturous song. Birds would twitter overhead. The sky would change to a sunset, and glitter would spontaneously combust out of everywhere at once.
Instead, that weighty study remained behind.
“Here you go.”
I slid the coffee back across the counter, suppressing the urge to do it bartender-style the way Hernandez liked. He ignored the drink while I dumped the leftover change in the tip jar. The charged air forced me to look up, even though my entire body wanted to flit away and pretend like I didn’t notice his attention.
His gaze had narrowed. “Do you like people?” he asked.
“Yes, for the most part. In manageable doses.”
His brow grew heavy over his eyes. He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth. His gaze had dropped to something just beyond me as he moved into deeper thought, and I couldn’t help but wonder what gave him such a deep expression.
Yesterday, he’d looked terrified. Today, there was a hint of panic in the way his arms remained tense at his side. His finger tapped the top of the coffee mug. Try as he might, that gentle panic hadn’t once relaxed.
What did hehave going on?
“Do you get stage fright?” he asked.
I scoffed, which turned into an inelegant snort, then cleared my throat. “Ah, no. Not at all.”
An unintelligible, deep rumble came from his throat. Was that supposed to be a response?
