Page 72 of A Heart So Haunted
“What about you?” I said, a bit reedy. “Mr. Business Man.”
His hand, which idly dragged along the closet edge, stilled. “Pardon?”
Oops. I floundered for another reason—besides my going to the library—to explain myself. “Your clothes. I figured if you cleaned up nice enough, you might have been a semi-important guy back in the day.”
His slitted eyes narrowed. “Do I hear a jest from your mouth, or do my ears deceive me?”
“I doubt it, they’re kind of big. You could probably pick up radio signals with those things.” Not so much large as pointed, but he reacted, which made my heart flutter.
This made him sit forward. Before I knew it, he crawled out of the closet like a creature from a horror movie, but the riled irritation in his eyes wasn’t mean—but playful.
“Now you stoop as low as to make jokes of my appearance in relation to items that I know nothing about. A rather cowardly way to make fun of a person, don’t you believe?” His nails dragged along the floor. I held my ground—well, I held my side of the bed. I didn’t back up, only narrowed my eyes back with a suppressed smile.
“Says the creature crawling along a woman’s floor in the middle of the night. I’d say your peeping Tom act could use some work.”
“Now you’re being cruel. You know regal businessmen like myself have little social skills outside of ledgers.AndI am out of practice. How else do you expect me to speak to women?”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. I covered my mouth to muffle it and sat up. He’d stopped in the middle of my floor, his figure flickering in and out of sight with every dash of lightening.
“I’m sorry, Hadrian, if I hurt your feelings.” I stifled a chuckle. “I was teasing.”
He relaxed a little. “Your voice. The hum.”
My eyes dropped. “What do you mean?”
“Just now, when you spoke, you smiled and hummed. It sounds like the wings of those tiny birds … What are they called …” He scratched the side of his neck. His heart, I noticed, oozed freely, but as it always did, the blood disappeared as soon as it ran down his hardened midsection. “They come to the window every now and then. Small little things, needle beaks. I saw them all the time as a child around my mother’s—ah—flower beds.” He made a pinching motion with his fingers.
I wrapped my arms around my knees. The rain grew louder against the roof, a steady hum, around us.
“You mean hummingbirds?”
“Is that what they are called?”
My brow furrowed. Hummingbirds had been around long before Hadrian’s time. At my worried expression, he cleared his throat. His horns waved as he glanced around.
“I apologize. Some memories are not always clear. I can recall my favorite breakfast as a child but some parts … are gone. And, as you saw, there was no one else to speak to in that room, so I have no one to ask.”
A hole in my chest yawned wider. Sadness. Was he admitting that he was lonely?
I chewed on my lip. “That’s okay. I didn’t mean to … I really am sorry, if I hurt your feelings. The joking, I mean. I just—sometimes things come out, and I don’t know if it’s always received how I hear it in my head.”
“You did nothing to hurt my feelings, Landry.”
A nod. “Okay. I trust you.”
“And when you say my name, your voice lowers. Just a hair.” He paused. It was ironic, seeinghimtrying to articulate how he was feeling so eloquently. A blush rushed under my skin.
“I’ll make sure to say it with gusto next time,” I said with a smile.
His expression remained serious. “No.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “I like how you say it much better.”
I wiped my hand over my face. Prickles of heat started up my neck. “Well, I’m flattered.”
“Now, Landry,” he said, but this time, my name turned into a growl. “Tell me about this inspection that went so poorly.”
