Chapter 8 #2
“Never mind that,” I say to the table, holding out my hand. “Let me see that video.”
“Why? You want to post it?” Liam smirks.
“Maybe,” I shrug, then grin at him. “It’ll go great with my get ready with me from tonight.”
And just as I planned, I cue the laughter that erupts around the table.
“Your hunch was correct, Brody,” Nate says from his place beside Liam.
Twenty minutes after dinner, Nate stole Jordan’s chair while she was in the bathroom and Luke came to sit beside me.
Boys at one end, girls at the other, and we’ve been like that for an hour.
Part of me wishes I could have switched with Liam, just to have a better view of the bar where I know Bryn has been back and forth all night, but it’s probably for the best. Everyone has ribbed the two of us enough without me staring at her endlessly.
“Arson?” Brody raises a brow while raising his beer to his lips.
When Nate nods, I ask, “The fire from yesterday?”
Nate nods again, and I lean back in my chair, eyes bouncing between him and Brody. Though the tension lingered long into our shift, it seems diffused today. Maybe they both really had just missed their Wheaties.
“I talked to Tyson from six—you guys know him?” I say, all eyes turning in my direction. When Nate smirks, eyes darting to Savanna, I recall the conversation in the club. Right. Of course they do. “He double checked, and sure enough, that fire I was telling you guys about was also deemed arson.”
“Yeah, I looked into it,” Nate responds, running a hand through his hair, then looks to Brody. “Looks like the same patterns. I flagged it and called Tina. Turns out Station One and Four also had similar fires.”
“Who’s Tina?” I ask.
“Fire investigator friend of Nate’s,” Luke says from beside me.
Liam spins his beer glass on the table. “Could be a coincidence.”
“It’s not,” Brody states, jaw set, muscles working as he grinds his teeth. “You know it isn’t.”
“I know I don’t need to say it, but extra vigilance for a while, boys.” Nate looks to each of us for a nod of agreement.
We might not be at work, but I admire the way Nate leads even outside the station. The type of guy who can be a friend but not allow that to get in the way of work. There’s a high level of respect from everyone.
Quinn turns to us then, leaning across the table and into Nate’s arm, pointing at all of us. “Can you guys knock it off with the shop talk? There are far more interesting things to talk about on a day off.”
“Like what?” Luke asks.
“Whips and chains,” Liam mutters, but everyone seems to hear it, causing them to laugh. Except for Nate and Savanna, who look at each other with knowing smirks.
“I feel like I’m missing something,” I announce, looking to Liam for explanation.
“Long standing joke. When they,” he points to Nate and Savanna, “started to date, we wondered if that’s what Nate was into. They’ve never confirmed or denied it—”
“And it drives everyone crazy,” Nate interjects.
My eyes bounce back and forth between him and Savanna for a moment, before I declare to the table. “They aren’t.”
“You can’t know that,” Liam shakes his head, rolling his eyes.
Quinn snorts. “Cowboy, are you a peeping Tom?”
“I can know that with pretty good accuracy,” I tell them, setting my beer to the side of me to interlace my fingers and lay my hands out in front of me. Open, honest, and trustworthy. “And I don’t need to be a peeping Tom to know.”
“So how can you know?” Hailey asks around Luke.
“Microexpressions,” I state simply, then look directly at Nate. “Nate, are you into whips and chains?”
And there it is. There’s the slightest wrinkle of his nose—my first clue—a raise of his upper lip, but he masks it straight into a smirk. It’s small, and if I hadn’t spent countless hours watching people for these cues, I wouldn’t see it. Wouldn’t understand what it meant.
“I’ll never tell,” Nate replies, but even as he does, his body betrays him again with a subtle head shake.
“Right before he smirked—a total giveaway, by the way—he gave a clear sign of disgust,” I explain, gesturing with a hand in Nate’s direction. “You probably didn’t even realize it, but there was a slight lift of your lip, and you wrinkled your nose.”
“What are you? Some kind of body language expert?” Jordan asks from down the table.
“No expert, but I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to microexpressions. People fascinate me.”
I don’t mention that I learned a lot about them to understand my dad’s moods when he changed in my early teenage years. Knowing what I was in for with him felt like power because it helped me control my reactions the older I got.
“So, you’re kind of like Brody and like to observe people?” Hailey questions.
Hedging a glance to the man on my left, I find him staring at me with an intensity I haven’t seen before.
Throughout our whole shift he looked at me with more disdain than anything, like he resented having to deal with the new kid in the house.
But now he looks curious, as though he’s found some kind of respect for me.
“Guess I don’t know him well enough to say for sure, but,” I pick up my beer and tip it in his direction. “I’d cheers to an interest in observing people.”
Common ground with this guy would be good if we’re going to be working closely with one another, but he could very well leave me hanging.
The distance and cool shoulder he’s given me so far say that’s a real possibility, and all of a sudden, it’s like I’m back on day one, nerves plaguing my stomach, tossing around my dinner.
His face remains neutral. This is a man who would probably win at poker every single time if he wanted to. I can respect it, even if I don’t like being caught in the midst of it.
After what feels like an eternity, the corners of his mouth twitch, and he picks up his beer, clinking it against mine. “You learn a lot when you’re quiet.”
“Cheers, brother.”
The beers aren’t to our lips when there’s movement in my peripheral, and all hell breaks loose.
A gasp loud enough to be heard over the noise in the bar comes from behind me, and I twist around in time to see the tray Bryn had been carrying land on a man whose chair is pushed into her side.
One by one the glasses fall from the man’s lap onto the ground with a sickening thunk, thunk, thunk.
Given the amount of liquid now on the floor, covering her, and a patron of the bar, I’m guessing it was the latest round for our entire table.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The man shouts, his clothes soaked in alcohol.
I’m on my feet in a heartbeat, then at Bryn’s side in the next as she apologizes.
“I am so sorry, I—”
“You should have been watching where the fuck you were walking, you stupid—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I growl, low and menacing, taking a step forward to put myself between Bryn and the man.
He’s snarling at her, lip curled back, contempt flaring in his eyes as his glare turns on me. His chest heaves, quick and shallow, and I fight to remain poised to strike, but relaxed enough to slow everything down.
“Or what?” he spits.
“Wyatt, it’s fine,” Bryn murmurs, tugging at the hem of my t-shirt.
The fuck if I’m going to back down to some asshole talking to her like that. He shouldn’t be talking to any woman like that. “Or you and I are going to have a problem.”
Rage explodes in the man’s eyes. Like he isn’t used to having someone challenge him.
The next words out of his mouth are enough to make me see red.
“Then we’ve got a problem, because this stupid fucking bitch should watch where—”