Page 9 of Secret Sins

"Nor can I." He took a breath and said, "Once upon a midnight dreary."

Picking up the poem, I said, "While I pondered, weak and weary."

When he fully circled back to me, he smiled shyly, and my heart flopped over in my chest. "Over many a quaint and curious volume of—" He cut off with a frown. "Curious volume of . . ."

"Forgotten lore," I supplied.

"Guess I can't quote The Raven either." Giving me a glimpse of his boyish grin, he nodded toward the coffeemaker behind the desk. "Would you mind?"

If he wasn't careful, I'd mount him right there at any damn second, and he was worried I wouldn't make him some coffee? "Not at all."

Since I was busy with my back to him, I listened to his sounds. A soft sigh and quiet footsteps lead to the plate of cookies. Just the hint of a moan when he bit into it—motherfucker—and the rustle of his shirt as Charlie pattered over and he bent to pet him.

Trying to focus on not spilling the coffee grounds, I sucked in a breath. "To sort of continue the earlier conversation, I'm grateful for what I have. Life is short, and nothing is guaranteed. My parents died on their fishing boat when I was a baby, so I learned that lesson young."

"That's terrible."

To keep the tears at bay, I watched the coffee dribble through the filter to the pot. "As a matter of fact, everyone tells me my dad was named Charlie. I don't remember him, but having feline Charlie makes me feel closer to him somehow."

At his silence, I glanced over my shoulder. He stood closer than I'd thought, though still several feet away, and his intense blue eyes were focused on me. With the expectation of the impending storm, I'd thrown my hair into a ponytail, and the moisture in the air had curled the baby-fine tendrils around my face. Brushing them back, I felt a stinging behind my nose, but I refused to cry. My parents had already had their day, and it was behind me. This day was for making new friends, for God-given rain, and infinite inner stillness.

"Don't cry," he whispered.

Fuck it, I thought, and moved forward.

Which was a mistake.

Van backed up so fast he tripped over Charlie, banging his head on a shelf and opening up a small gash. As he pulled his hand away from the spot, I saw blood on his fingers.

"Dammit," I muttered, hurrying for the roll of paper towels.

Van sat heavily in the armchair and took the roll I held out.

"If you weren't such a damn stubborn man, that wouldn't have happened." Maybe I had no business saying it, but it was out of my mouth nonetheless.

"It was the fucking cat," he growled in return. With his hat pushed forward and a wad of paper towels on his head, he looked ridiculous.

"Don't blame my cat for your skittish nature. What did you think I was going to do, molest you?"

With a bone-deep sigh, Van stared at me. "I struggle with trust issues."

Ooh, the sarcasm was itching to spew. Like, no shit, dumbass, we've all noticed. "I have salve and a bandaid—no strings attached—and then, for the love of God, relax. Have some coffee and cookies. I know I will."

I had to back up for my own sanity. Finding the stinky brownish orange salve Riley swore by, I brought that and a small bandage to the table. Retreating back to the coffeemaker, I poured us both a mug.

"Where are the mugs from?"

"That's what you have to say? Out of everything?"

He shrugged, removing the paper towel and tenderly patting on some ointment to the spot near his nape. "I saw them next door too, but they're white."

Handing him a deep cobalt mug, I studied the hesitantly outstretched fingers. The cracks remained, and the knuckles reddened in protest of the abuse.

"In this town, we support each other." Leaning against the counter and crossing my legs, I blew on the top of my coffee. "You recall I said I have a foster mother?" At his nod, I continued. "Riley is her name. Her partner, Jay, makes them."

Van fell quiet again. The sound of the rain pelting the roof and the howling wind surrounded my senses. Charlie had reappeared, bumping against my shin. The ease of comfortability nearly lulled me into a false sense of serenity. Unfortunately, this man was not built for that.

"I just wanted to buy a book," he mumbled.