Chapter 28 #2
I nodded again. “Are you okay to walk that far?” I asked him.
He snorted. “I’ll be fine.”
I had to walk fast to keep up with his longer stride, even with the boot. “How is your ankle?” I asked.
“Annoying,” came his reply. “But they tell me it would heal faster if I stopped using it so much.”
“We don’t have to walk to dinner,” I said, stopping.
He paused, then looked back at me. “Rayn, it’s fine. I’d rather it be sore and used than get stiff and weak because I’m babying it.”
I wasn’t certain whether or not his logic actually made sense, but it was his ankle. I caught up with him, and we resumed walking.
“What about your arm?” he asked, then.
“It’s improving,” I replied. “It still hurts, but not as much.”
“It must be a relief to have the fixator out, though?” I could tell from the lift in his voice at the end that it was a question.
“Definitely. I don’t get caught on my own shirts nearly as much.”
He smiled down at me. “I’m sure that wasn’t particularly pleasant.”
“No,” I agreed.
We lapsed into silence as we walked, but the whole fact that we were doing this still confused me.
“Can I ask a clarifying question?” I said, finally breaking the silence.
“Sure.” He looked over, clearly curious.
“What are we doing?”
He drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “Dinner, you mean?”
“Yes. I—” I could feel my cheeks heating, and it wasn’t just the warmth of the summer day. “I know you don’t want there to be anything… romantic between us, so I just want to understand what kind of dinner this is going to be.”
“About that…” He sighed again. “I—I would actually like it to be a romantic kind of dinner.” He shot me a glance, his gold-brown eyes slightly squinted in the sunlight. “If you would be interested in that.”
My heart started pounding, although I didn’t think it was from fear. Nerves, yes, but also… excitement? Anticipation?
I wasn’t any less confused, though.
“I thought you said that was a bad idea,” I half-murmured, hesitantly, glancing up at him as I hurried to keep pace with his longer stride. I didn’t agree with him that it was a bad idea, but I also didn’t want him do something he didn’t want to do.
“It is a bad idea,” he replied, although he sounded amused, which I found even more confusing. “I just decided that I don’t care.”
I studied his features, the slight upward curve of his full lips behind the beard, the crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t look angry about it, at least.
“What does that mean?” I asked him.
He glanced over, those golden-brown eyes warm. “It means I want to get to know you better,” he replied. “Preferably outside of murder cases, abductions, and wells.” His mouth twitched. “And dreams.”
I felt my face heat. “Sorry. I know I promised, but I could feel that you were upset—”
“I’m not mad, Rayn,” he interrupted me. “I wasn’t really having a good time of it.” He grimaced. “I thanked you for getting me out of that, and I meant it.”
One of the things I liked about Raj’s face was the fact that it shifted with his thoughts and emotions—at least when he wasn’t working. It meant that I could read his expressions easier than most people’s.
“It was a good reminder,” he continued, color darkening his already-dark cheeks. “Of the fact that I can’t stop myself from thinking about you. Or caring what happens to you.”
I thought about this for a few minutes. “And that made you not care about it being a bad idea?” I didn’t quite follow the logic.
Raj let out a chuffing laugh deep in his chest. It was a very tiger-ish sound. “Yeah, it did,” he said.
“But you still think it’s a bad idea,” I said softly.
He sighed, the sound heavy. “Rayn, I’m more than a decade older than you are. We’re going to work together every time Hart drags Beyond the Veil into an investigation. I’m a federal agent with an unpredictable and dangerous job. And—” He hesitated.
“And I’m a fairly bad touch-psychic, dreamwalker, and death witch who has a lot to learn,” I finished for him, my eyes cast down as I watched his mismatched feet—one in a boot, the other in a white Converse shoe moving down the sidewalk.
I knew dealing with me had to be infuriating from the outside.
“I was going to say,” he said, and he sounded embarrassed, “that I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”
I frowned, then looked back up at him. He wasn’t looking at me, and his cheeks were still dark, his eyes lowered. “What sort of thing?” I asked.
He didn’t look up. “Relationships,” he replied. “Romantic ones, specifically.”
“I don’t understand what you mean that you’re not good at them,” I told him apologetically.
That made him look up sharply. “Well, I usually just don’t have them,” he said softly. “Because of the job, mostly.”
“Why?” I asked, partly just for something to say, and partly because I wanted to know.
He shrugged, sticking both hands in the pockets of his jeans. “The hours, mostly.” He let out another sigh. “Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself. And other people.”
“But it’s not true?”
“Shit, you’re direct.”
“Sorry.” I felt my face flush. I knew I was supposed to be more circumspect.
Talk around things rather than stating them up front.
Ward had warned me about how most people don’t like directness.
I just… I wanted to know. With most people I didn’t care, but I wanted to understand how Raj’s mind worked.
“Don’t be,” he said softly, reaching out one hand as though he might touch my uninjured arm.
I tensed—but not because I didn’t want him to, but because I just wasn’t used to people touching me, even though he did sometimes. A hand on my back. A brush of fingers on my arm. Usually when I didn’t see it coming.
I wanted him to.
But he didn’t this time, pulling his hand back and sticking it in his pocket. “It’s easier to pretend that I don’t date or even bother to get to know people because of the hours.”
That made sense. “Why don’t you, if it isn’t the hours?” I asked him.
Another huff. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?” he asked.
I ducked my head again, cheeks on fire. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer. It was rude of me to ask.” I did want to know, but it was clear that I shouldn’t have.
“Because I’m scared,” he said softly, and there was something almost desperate and raw in his voice. “Shit,” he breathed out, stopping on the sidewalk, causing a few people to shoot glares at us as they moved around us. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Sorry.”
“Rayn—” He reached toward me again, his hand hovering.
“You can touch me,” I blurted.
Raj looked startled, but then he gently put his hand on my unbroken arm, warmth from his palm soaking through the thin fabric of my shirt.
He used it to guide us out of the center of the sidewalk, backing me up against a warm brick wall—not roughly, just…
out of the way. Honestly, I appreciated the support of the wall keeping me from collapsing due to weak knees.
“Don’t apologize for being you,” he said softly, letting his hand slide past my elbow until his fingers brushed the back of my hand, sending tingles rushing through my whole arm.
“It’s why I can’t stop thinking about you.
” He slid his hand around my palm, then laced his fingers with mine. “Is this okay?”
I nodded furiously.
He stepped a little closer, and the rest of the busy sidewalk seemed to disappear into a fog. He let go of my fingers as both hands came up and slid along my jaw. “This?” he asked softly.
I nodded again, the backpack on my good shoulder sliding down to the sidewalk.
“And would it be okay if I kissed you?”
More nodding, because I’d lost the ability to use my voice, my heart trapped in my throat.
And then his lips were on mine, and I learned that the hairs of his mustache and beard were surprisingly soft and smelled faintly of sandalwood oil.
But his lips were softer, warmer. It felt like I melted into his mouth, the warmth of the sun-warmed brick against my back replaced by the higher heat of Raj’s body against my chest as I pulled myself into the kiss with the fist I’d made in his shirt with my good hand.
He remembered that Rayn had once mentioned liking bold colors—like the bright teal, crimson, and orange glazing on his mug—so he deliberately picked a t-shirt in a vibrant shade of burnt umber.
He didn’t own a lot of colorful clothes because he mostly only wore suits in dark colors and button-downs in light shades. Maybe he’d add some bright ties.
But he was getting ahead of himself.
Even if Rayn was attracted to him, that didn’t mean the younger man would actually be interested in dating him.
He stepped back first, and my hand fell from Raj’s chest, but I was breathing hard more because of the kiss than the vision.
“Oh, shit,” he breathed. “Not—not the kiss,” he said quickly, then flushed. “I mean—” He sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about the fact that you might touch—me.”
I pressed my palm against the top of my thigh, leaning back against the supportive brick wall to make sure I didn’t fall over, my knees even more wobbly post-kiss than they had been before.
“I didn’t mean to get into your head,” I said, my eyes once more focused on his boot and Converse shoe.
I hadn’t even thought about stopping the thoughts, too caught up by the surge of emotion that had risen in my chest and throat.
“Rayn,” Raj said softly, warm fingers tilting my chin up. “You’re already in my head. All the time. I just—” He smiled, the expression a little ironic. “I didn’t mean to trigger anything.”
Oh. He was just thinking about me—the fact that I hated being in other people’s heads.
I swallowed. “I don’t mind your thoughts,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat.
His lips twitched. “What thoughts did you get?” he asked, although he sounded nervous.