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“Don’t say nothing. Something. Are you sick? Did Jasper have a contagious bug after all?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Let go of my arm.”
“Talia—”
“Let go.” She pulled her arm free.
He reached for her again.
“Everything okay here?”
Talia hadn’t noticed the approach of the other man until he was right there with them. He divided a concerned look between her and Drex, landing on Drex, a frown of stern disapproval forming between his eyebrows. She then became aware that other customers had stopped what they were doing to observe them.
Drex said, “Yeah, pal, everything’s cool.”
The man didn’t excuse himself or back down, but continued to glower at Drex with suspicion.
Drex glowered back. “I said, everything’s cool.”
Ignoring him, the man looked at her, asking softly, “Ma’am?”
She swallowed. “Everything’s fine.” Her smile was wobbly and unconvincing, so she added, “I’m was upset, am upset, about…about…”
“A
bout her dad’s diagnosis,” Drex said. “They’re close.”
Talia marveled at the ease with which he lied. Going back to the stranger, she said, “I appreciate your concern. Truly. But I’m fine. I just needed some air.”
“Sure, honey.” Drex shot the man a dirty look as he brushed past him, then, cupping her elbow, maneuvered her out of the coffee shop.
He guided her across the lobby to a seating area that was sectioned off by a row of potted plants. They lent some privacy, but Talia didn’t want privacy with Drex. Nothing good had come of the times when they had been alone; Jasper seemed not to like it, and, besides, Drex’s smarmy behavior of the night before was still fresh in her mind.
He motioned for her to sit down on one of the padded benches.
She shook her head. “I have to go.”
He looked at her with consternation. “You’re upset.”
“I wasn’t until you intruded.”
He just stood there, an imposing presence she couldn’t go around without creating another scene. She plopped down on the bench. He perched on the edge of another that faced hers. She moved her knees aside so they wouldn’t be so close to touching his.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing. You’re making way too much of—”
“Something’s wrong. I can tell.”
“How can you tell? You don’t know me well enough to gauge my moods. You don’t know me at all.”
In a sudden move, he leaned forward and said with heat, “And that’s eating at me. A lot.”
The change in his bearing was discomfiting. She reclined back to compensate for his nearness. “Why should it? If my whole world is caving in, what business is it of yours?”
