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“Not really.”
“Raven.”
“I’m not hungry, Rhys.”
“Bullshit. I can practically hear your stomach growling from here.”
“Fine. Maybe I’m a little hungry,” she says, averting her gaze. A pretty blush climbs up her cheeks, staining them pink. “I haven’t eaten today.”
I stare at her for a minute, perplexed as to why she didn’t want to tell me that. And then realization dawns. I grit out a curse, my stomach sinking into my soles. “You’re afraid of me.”
She’s a beautiful little songbird, all shy and sweet. Compared to her, I’m a gruff, mean bastard. Her world is probably full of pretty boys and rich assholes in designer duds. They learned to charm before they learned to talk. That’s not me. I’ve spent too goddamn long working with criminals, visiting the places no one wants to go, dealing with the kinds of people no one wants to deal with. When you spend your life in the dark, the shadows stain you. They claimed me a long time ago.
Her wide, startled eyes meet mine. “What? No, I’m not.”
“Then why’d you lie to me?”
“You don’t like me much,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
I stare at her for a full five count, caught off-guard. And then I shake my head and cross to the fridge. “Sit down, princess. I’ll make you something to eat.” I set the folder on top of the fridge and start pulling out stuff to make her a sandwich. “Why do you think I don’t like you?”
“You were mean to me the first time we met.” She shuffles across the kitchen to the table. Halfway there, a clap of thunder rattles the windowpanes, and she squeaks like a little mouse and then laughs self-consciously. “Sorry.”
“Never apologize for being you,” I say, watching as she pulls out a chair and sinks gracefully into it. She moves like a dream. I bet she danced when she was younger. Her body flows from one movement to the next like a ballerina’s. Shit, I wish more ballerinas looked like her. I might actually watch the shit instead of sleeping through it when my stepmom forces me to go every Christmas. There’s something beautiful about watching a curvy woman move. It’s erotic as hell. “Make all the noise you want. This place could use it.”
“You don’t like the quiet?”
“Depends on the day.”
“It’s never quiet in Boston,” she says almost wistfully. “New York City either. I might make too much noise just to fill the silence. I’ve never had much peace and quiet before. I may not like it much. Hopefully, I’ll be able to find a job soon and won’t have to stay here long.”
“Uh, fuck no,” I growl, dropping all the sandwich stuff onto the slate gray island.
She blinks wide eyes at me.
“You aren’t working.”
“I need a job, Rhys. I can’t live off my savings forever.”
“You won’t need to live off your savings,” I say, reaching for the loaf of bread. “Marnie and I will be having a discussion as soon as I can get to Seattle. She can’t cut you off from what rightfully belongs to you.”
“I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“You aren’t.”
She falls silent, staring out the windows. With dark falling, there isn’t much to see. The water is inky black, Orcas Island invisible behind the wall of rain still falling. Not that she’s really trying to see any of that anyway. The kitchen reflects back in the glass. She’s watching me and trying to be sneaky about it. It’s cute that she thinks I don’t know what she’s doing.
I don’t call her on it, though.
“I’m sorry I was a dick to you,” I say instead.
She turns back to me.
“The day we met,” I clarify. “It wasn’t because I disliked you.”
“Oh.”
“Can we start over?”
