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“Yeah, being a woman on the internet is fun. But the point is, you’re not going to offend me. Give me your profile.”
He stared at her for a moment and then set his beer aside. “All right. On the outside, you seem like a woman who’d be too cool for the room. Nose ring. Bright hair. Quirky toenail polish. Horror novelist. Like the girl in high school who only listened to bootlegged indie rock and who set trends with her retro clothes from Goodwill.”
She took a long draw off her beer, amused by how he viewed her.
“The kind who would never date Mr. Popularity or Mr. Student Council President or Mr. Guy Next Door because they were sonot alternative. Only poets and skateboarders for you.”
She lowered her bottle, frowning.
“But you have no visible tattoos. No permanent marker of your alternativeness. And you have this down-home, welcoming, bake-you-brownies warmth about you. So, my guess is this look is something you use to weed people out. You want most people to categorize you quickly and dismiss you, because then you only have to pay attention to the people who see past the surface. Those are the people you think are worth your time. You have lots of friends but few who get your total trust. My guess is that in high school, you weren’t too cool for the room, you were the nice girl everyone could count on. The friend people took for granted.”
She stared at him. Floored.
He took a gulp of his beer, watching her the whole time, and then gave her a faint smile. “You’re about to tell me I’m wrong and I can go to hell, aren’t you? That you spent high school touring with a punk band, writing their songs, and dating the lead singer. That you really are too cool for the room.”
Andi set down her beer, still processing all he’d said. “You got all that from blue toenail polish?”
“Not solely the polish,” he said without elaborating. “Did I get anything right?”
She swallowed past the wave of vulnerability his assessment had brought on and tried for a light tone. “That’s some goddamned spooky magic shit, Hill.” She shook her head. “You got everything right except the tattoo. I have one. Just not visible.”
“Oh.”
He glanced down her body, a quick jaunt, but not quick enough for her not to notice. She found she didn’t really mind him wondering where her ink was.
“That’s a pretty amazing skill,” she said finally. “Also, creepy.”
He chuckled under his breath, a warm, sexy sound that changed his whole demeanor. “See. Told you.”
She let herself take in the view for a moment. The sight of her handsome neighbor relaxing in her living room and shooting the shit soothed something inside her. The muscles that had tightened during the break-in finally loosened. She was glad she’d asked Hill to stay. Even though they were only neighbors, she let herself imagine that he wasn’t here because of a scary night. That they’d gone on a fun date, had some drinks, seen a movie, and now they were hanging out and getting to know each other. Something normal. Something light.
The simple act of having a date over was so fraught for her. Something other people did without thinking, with an ease they took for granted. She wanted to pretend for a little while that she was capable of it.
“So,” she said, picking up her beer and wanting to keep the distracting conversation going. As long as they were talking, the fantasy could remain and the demons from earlier tonight would stay away, outside in the dark. “Now that I feel totally exposed, I get to poke at you.”
He glanced up, a line appearing between his brows. “I don’t remember agreeing to that kind of deal.”
“You did. Fine print in the contract. Should’ve gotten your lawyer to read through it first before you FBI profiled me.” She tapped her fingernails along the side of her beer bottle, contemplating how best to torture him. “So. How long ago were you engaged to Officer French Braid?”
He coughed, choking on his beer a little. “Officer French Braid? God, she’dhatethat nickname.”
“Oh well,” Andi said with a shrug. “How long?”
“Uh, right up until the point I found out she was screwing my best friend.” He instantly winced. Like he hadn’t meant to answer so honestly.
Andi’s expression soured, her beer paused halfway to her mouth. “Ouch. That sucks.”
He cleared his throat, clearly ready to pull the eject cord on this conversation. “Yeah. Wasn’t great. But it’s been about a year.”
She shook her head in sympathy. “Sorry you had to see her tonight.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s not that fraught. We’re different people than we were back when we were together, so it’s almost like we’re strangers now.”
Andi pulled her afghan from the back of the couch and draped it over her legs. “What’d she say about me when y’all went outside?”
He glanced toward the front door and then back to her. “How’d you know she said anything?”
Andi barely resisted rolling her eyes. That cop had disliked Andi in an instant. “Had a hunch.”
