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He flinches and stares at my hand.
On.
His.
Shoulder.
Embarrassed heat threatens to scorch my face off, and I jump off the couch. “I…um…didn’t mean to interrupt you guys.” Stealing one last look at the beautiful guitar I can’t accept without dire consequences, I escape to the main area of the store. Why is it a ghost town tonight? For once, I’d appreciate a crowd, someone to interrupt my impulses before they—
“Laurel.” Blackmore catches up with me a few steps away from the entrance.
“Sorry. I didn’t— I don’t—” I breathe out. “Can we forgetthat”—I wave in the direction of the back room, unable to sayI touched youout loud—“happened?”
“That felt comforting somehow.” Arms crossed over his chest, Blackmore takes a step closer. “You seemed kind of surprised when you found out that I’m working with Shane.”
I huff. “Of course it’s surprising. He stole your girl from you—”
“Nope. Juliette and I were never together. I loved her—” He grimaces hard as if he’s swallowed something sour. “Loved. Past tense. I moved on.”
“Likely story.”
He chuckles once in disbelief. “Why do you insist on seeing me as this heartbroken, wretched martyr?”
“Why do you insist on lying to yourself?” I know he’s fighting his feelings. I’m a pro at shutting out things that hurt me. I’ve seen that haunted edge in my own eyes, in the mirror, too many times to not recognize it in his icy irises. His smiles are too practiced as well, cocky shards of a shield that’s barely holding together.
Blackmore’s eyes narrow, schemes brewing between his long, black eyelashes. “I’ll tell you what. You’re right. There are some things, of course, that I prefer to not think about. I’ll tell you one of them if you have dinner with me tonight.”
I laugh at his ridiculous joke. “Great evasion.” Dinner with him? He knew I’d laugh him off, or at the very least reject him. Dinner means people. Lots and lots of people who can make my life miserable.
“I’m not evading. I’m offering a trade. I still feel bad about Saturday. Bjornson and I ruined your evening. Let me make it up to you.”
I fidget with the cord of the blinds that cover the door. “You want to make it up to me by asking me to do something I hate?” At least he’s forgotten about me touching him.
“I’m not convinced you actually like being a shut-in.” He plays with the OPEN/CLOSED sign. “And put yourself in my shoes. I get to meet the mysterious Laurel Halifax. I’d be an idiot to not try to ask you out.”
“How great. A chance to be your trophy girl. How can I say no?” My voice is spiced with appropriate amounts of bitter sarcasm, but my heart stings. However, he’s honest about everything. I’ll give him that.
“Don’t think about it that way,” he murmurs, the softness in his voice enticing me to look at him again. His face is filled with understanding. “Otherwise you’ll doubt everyone for the rest of your life. I know a quiet place. Good Thai. I’m hungry. Are you?”
“A little.” My mouth starts watering, and my stomach whines. It’s been so long since I’ve had Thai anywhere but in our dining room. It tastes different outside the house. It really does.
“Then let’s go. Let me treat you. Eat good food and think the whole time,That sucker, buying me dinner just because I’m a Halifax. But if you don’t want to blow your cover, I get it. Thanks for the concern.” He takes my hand and brings it to his lips.
I yank it out before he kisses it. Then I immediately regret it, which makes me believe all the more that I need to stay away from him. So I say, “How good is the Thai?”
“Real good. The papaya salad leaves you with a craving for more that lasts for days.” He opens the door for me.
I step through, but… “What about Hal and Shane?”
Blackmore shrugs. “Shane’s here to discuss sales. They don’t need us.”
My knees buckle for a split second at the sound of that casualus. My mind flashes a million images of whatuscould look like, in every one of them Blackmore, unfazed and goofy, by my side.
Don’t be easy, Laurel. Don’t be easy.
I’m a trophy date. Dinner is all he gets.
Track 8
