Chapter 8 #2
All the vertebrae in my spine align as I sit as straight as a compass needle pointing north.
“I’m up to the same thing everyone else who comes to Cotton-Eyed Cup of Joe is up to.
” Reaching out, I grab the mug of black plum tea in front of me and take a swig.
It’s long since turned cold, and a layer of honey coats the mouthful I force down my throat.
His eyes spark as if he knows how awful that tasted and is amused by my attempt to appear otherwise. “Good?”
“Delicious,” I croak.
“Mm-hmm. I bet.”
Why am I still sitting here? I’ve gotten the information I need. I’ve seen what I need to see. My stakeout is essentially blown. There’s no reason for me not to gather my stuff and go.
“Look, I know I didn’t make the best first impression. Do you think we could maybe start over?” Tai rests his forearms on the table and gazes at me with open earnestness.
“Why?” The question is out of my mouth before I even realize my lips have formed the word.
But, really, it’s an honest question. I feel like I’ve been trying to figure the guy out since the first time I laid eyes on him.
I finally think I’ve gotten a handle on his character, but here he is, throwing me for another loop with his apparent sincerity.
His head tilts. A beat passes. Two.
I try not to squirm as he seems to see beyond the constructed facade I’ve worked so hard to build around me. I want to say something to deflect his intuitive gaze, wondering how he’s turned the tables so fast. Too bad my brain is stalling worse than an old car with engine problems.
“You’re very guarded, aren’t you?” he asks softly.
I snort and look anywhere but at him. “This is not when you ask who hurt me.”
“I’m sorry?” His brows draw down in confusion. He leans forward, his expression turning serious, almost angry. “Did someone hurt you?”
My breath gets caught somewhere in my throat.
Oh no. I’d said that as a joke. He wasn’t supposed to get protective.
The way he’s looking right now, thunderous and like Brett should be worried to ever meet him in a dark alley .
. . That wasn’t supposed to happen. And, dear heavens, I wasn’t supposed to enjoy this type of reaction.
I lick my lips and force a breathy laugh past the constriction in my chest, waving my hand in the air for reasons I’m unaware of but hope looks like I’m brushing away his concern. “It’s a book trope—who hurt you. Sorry. Occupational hazard.”
He sits back, his face clearing and returning to its usual jovialness. “Is that why you moved to Little Creek?”
I’m taken aback by the direct question and turn in conversation. “What?”
“Why you moved to Little Creek. Sometimes people move to start over. Is that what happened? You were hurt and wanted to start over someplace new?”
My mouth opens. Shuts. Opens. Shuts.
He smiles the tiniest bit. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
“I didn’t say that,” I sputter a little too loudly. The people at the table beside us turn to stare at my outburst. I lean in and repeat myself more quietly. “I didn’t say that.”
Tai shrugs, unconvinced and unbothered.
I worry my lip. I don’t owe him an explanation.
Even so, I feel pressure building behind my ribs to say something.
Maybe I could let a pinprick of honesty out?
Just a little. Not enough to reveal anything too personal that will ruin the haven I have here in Little Creek but enough to appease him so he won’t make any other too-close-to-the-whole-truth assumptions.
“Have you ever . . .” I start, pause, then start again. “Have you ever reached a point where you couldn’t bear to see the way people look at you anymore?”
He considers my question, and I’m taken aback yet again by how serious he’s being right now. Until today, our interactions have been him teasing me and amusing himself at my expense.
He nods slowly. “I’m pretty sure there are some people in town that think I must have a Marauder’s Map on me.”
“Because you solemnly swear you’re up to no good?”
He dips his head. “Thank you for catching my reference.”
“It was an easy lob to field.”
“Anyways”—Tai grins, his usual carefree expression back in place—“I may have made some poor decisions with some cans of spray paint and a few buildings along Main Street in my youth. Pair a small town’s long memory with the fact that when I came back after a few years away looking nothing like their idea of a clean-cut, respectable young man, and you can imagine some of the looks I get. ”
“Is that how you got your reputation?”
He gives me a look that I think is supposed to be an impersonation of Johnny Depp in The Pirates of the Caribbean. “So you have heard of me.”
I laugh in spite of myself. “Not really, no. I just assumed you must have one in some circles.”
At this, he mock-pouts, and I laugh again.
What are you doing, Evangeline? a little voice in the back of my mind accuses. I freeze. Dagnabit. What am I doing? I wasn’t . . . oh heavens . . . I wasn’t flirting back with Tai. Was I?
Oh no. This isn’t good. I should leave. Right now. Before I do or say anything else I shouldn’t.
My gaze flicks to Tai. He’s back to regarding me with a singular focus that creates a phantom shiver that tracks down my spine.
I bolt to my feet, picking up the folder I’d momentarily forgotten about and pressing the front and back cover in a vise grip to ensure that none of the pages escape again.
I give Tai my practiced, polite smile. “Well, I really have to go now. I hope you have a nice rest of your day.”
He seems bewildered by my abrupt departure but recovers quickly. “I’ll see you around, Angel.”
An innocuous salutation that anyone would give, but coming from Hayley’s cousin, I can’t quite figure out if I should take it as a threat . . . or a promise?