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“Yeah. Mine’s gray.”
“Gray?” I repeated, thinking that not many people picked that as their favorite color. He simply nodded, but didn’t say anything more as he waited for my answer.
“Black,” I replied.
He cocked his head and studied me for a second. “I would have guessed red.”
I shrugged one shoulder and answered, “You’d be wrong. I like black and pink.”
“I could see you rocking those colors,” he said, thoughtfully.
I looked down at myself and back up at him, giving him a look. He only laughed in reply.
I was wearing tight, artfully ripped and frayed jeans with black heeled boots, and a long, fitted black sweater. My nails were painted hot pink. Yeah, I’d say I could rock them.
“What else?” he mused out loud. “Okay, how about favorite food?”
“You go first,” I said, curious to see what he’d say.
“My mom’s scalloped potatoes. No, her homemade chicken nuggets…actually, pretty much just food. Especially if my mom cooks it.”
By the time he was done, he was unconsciously rubbing his hand in circles on his stomach, which made me laugh.
“Now you,” he prodded.
“Chinese,” I said instantly. “Asian cuisine, actually. I love Chinese, Korean, and Japanese the best.”
He waved his hand at me, and I looked at him in confusion. “What?”
“Like what kind?”
I shrugged. “Pretty much anything, but I really like garlic chicken with cashews. And I love going to the Japanese steakhouse. You know, the hibachi dinners that they cook right in front of you? The noodles are my favorite. I always order extra because they’re so good. And bulgogi…oh, God that’s delicious!”
Calland was smirking at me. “You’re a food whore like me. I like that. And you’re probably not afraid to try new things, either, right?”
I hesitated briefly, and my chagrin must have shown.
“Seriously? You eat ethnic cuisine but you don’t like trying new things?”
“I mean, I do,” I hedged, “but I guess it depends on what it is. I’m actually a really picky eater. Like I hate onions and tomatoes, I’m allergic to curry, I don’t really like any vegetables except for potatoes, corn, green beans, and sometimes carrots, but they have to be raw. And I don’t like lettuce unless it’s on a taco or in a salad, but in a salad it has to be drowned in dressing-”
I stopped abruptly, realizing I was babbling on and on about my food habits.
“Sorry,” I said, sheepishly.
Calland laughed. “Don’t be. I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at one time. And I’m learning stuff about you, so it’s pretty much a win-win for me right now.”
I snorted. “Yeah, cause hearing me talk about my weird quirks makes for a killer night, right?”
I said it sarcastically, but he nodded.
I blinked, watching him silently for a moment. “You know I’m still not sleeping with you, right?”
He physically recoiled at my words, leaning back in his stool away from me. “Damn. That came out of nowhere, didn’t it? God forbid that someone actually might want to get to know you.”
He said it conversationally, his tone almost pleasant, which was at complete odds with his reaction. And that made his words almost feel like a slap to the face because it made it glaringly obvious I was being a bitch.
I was. And I had no reason to be. He hadn’t used any of his lame ass pick-up lines on me. He hadn’t been fawning all over me, a fact I realized belatedly. Sure, he’d touched my hand a couple times, and held it as we exited the dance floor, and his arms had wrapped around me while we were dancing. But the whole time I was in his arms, he was a complete gentleman. Shockingly.
“I’m sorry.” I said it softly, laying my hand across his forearm where it rested on the bar as I did so.
He leaned towards me again, his expression intent, seriousness pouring off of him. And in that moment, I got the feeling, no matter that I really didn’t even know him, that I was seeing a side of him that was seldom witnessed.
“You’re different. You aren’t like the other girls I usually go for.”
“Why? Because I’m not blonde and didn’t fall over with my legs in the air the minute you snapped your fingers?” I couldn’t help baiting him, no matter how bad I felt for being like that when he was being so nice.
He sighed. But then the corner of his lips tipped up in a lop-sided, half-hearted smile. “You aren’t wrong, there, but that’s not the reason,” he chuckled ruefully.
He caught my eyes again. “Dani.”
I stared at him, waiting to see what he’d say. His face was serious, almost earnest, in fact.
“What?” I asked softly when he didn’t continue.
“Go out with me. Dinner. Hang out, whatever.”
And back to this again.
“Calland,” I sighed. “My life at the moment is just not conducive to…whatever this is. I have Kaden to think about, and I’ve said it before, this isn’t a vacation. I’m here for a reason, and I have to see that through.”
“Then let’s not label this. I can’t explain why I’m so drawn to you, but,” he shrugged. “Let me help you. Let me help you do whatever it is you’re here for. However I can, whenever I can, for however long you’ll be around. Which is hopefully a long time.”
He delivered the last line with a grin and I couldn’t help but laugh. And then, suddenly, I didn’t want to resist anymore.
God help me, what the hell was I thinking?
