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I let the silence linger between us before I begin to fidget.
I hate silence.
“Are you always this moody?”
I expect no answer, but his shoulders shake, a chuckle coming from deep in his throat. He dips his chin before finally looking at me. I take a deep breath because with a simple look, I have an ache between my legs.
“No.”
“No?”
That’s it.
I chew my lip between my teeth. He watches just as intently as I watched him drink his whiskey.
Staring straight ahead, I swallow before saying, “Tell me something good.”
When I turn to look at him, I swear there’s a moment of recognition before it quickly disappears.
He smiles.
A real one this time, and it’s beautiful. I can’t help but smile with him.
Another drink.
As if attached to him by a piece of string, I lift my drink to my lips too.
“We finally found someone to run the shelter today. She thinks I’m a moody bastard, but I think she enjoys making assumptions. I also think she’s going to be amazing for the women.”
My smile fades.
This means a lot to him.
It’s more than just a shelter.
There’s a deeper meaning, and I may never find out what it is, but I understand it.
Suppressing the sudden prickle in my throat, I hope my voice doesn’t break when I say, “I was there yesterday. It’s beautiful.” I nudge him playfully. “You’ll see when you visit.”
A hum vibrates from his lips before he smiles again. I don’t think I can take another one. It holds a secret I’m not privy to—like even his smile is guarded.
When his hand comes toward my face, I freeze.
Slowly.
Closer.
And closer.
Is he going to touch me?
His thumb pulls at my chin, freeing my lip from the hold of my bite.
Holy shit, he’s touching me.
“Stop it,” he warns and returns to staring into his dark liquid.
I can only blink.
