Page 13 of Smoke and Fire
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?
“Why do you ask?” I asked in a failed attempt at nonchalance. There wasn’t enough time in the day for games like this.
Instead of answering, he asked, “Do you like romance books?”
My hands twitched, ready to grabLove is a Terrible Nightmareand fling it under the counter. Too late. He’d already seen the bright, turquoise cover.
“No,” I drawled, then scoffed. “C’mon. Romance books?”
“Liar.”
He said it softly, but without judgment. If anything, I detected amusement in his eyes, somewhere beneath the layers of stress and concentration.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ve read exactly 1.85 romance novels and I’ve been absolutely obsessed with them so far. In general? No.”
“Same.”
“You’ve read 1.85 romance novels?”
This time, he almostsmiled. “No, but in general I don’t like them.”
His quick agreement startled me, but I kept going because my name mustbe cleared. I hooked a thumb toward the book.
“But this author is . . . really good. Likereallygood. Lizbeth sort of cornered me into reading her and . . . look, I’m not a romance junkie, all right? I deal with reality. I just . . . Rodrigo is an idiot and it took him too long to come around! Rashaad is at least more self aware but so stubborn.” I held up a hand. “Please, don’t get me started on Rashaad because there are not enough hours in the day.”
He held up both hands, palms in the air.
“No judgment. Just wondered.”
Too late, I realized I’d escalated faster than I needed to. A tell, for sure. Why it mattered what this guy thought, I had no idea. My shoulders relaxed back. The general tension in the air faded.
“Right. Sorry. Why are you asking?”
He tapped his teeth together and studied me, as if attempting to decide whether I would be worthy of a great secret. For half a breath, I thought I’d be found wanting. He’d spin on his heels, march back to the table, then disappear out of my life. And while I wasn’t honest about myself with everything, I at least knew that I didn’t want him to leave.
Not yet.
There was something to be said for looking at someone who was easy on the eyes, but that wasn’t the reason I wanted him to stay. Plenty of attractive people came and went and I never remembered them. But they never had the same mixture of terror and hope as this guy. I had to know his demons.
