The cough from the door startled me.
I looked up and found Adam leaning against the doorway of the shed in a pair of faded jeans and a cashmere V-neck sweater that matched the ochre flecks in his eyes. He crossed his arms uncomfortably, his right hand gripping a big bouquet of costly flowers. He tried to smile, but his unease was obvious. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the silence stretching between us.
He spoke first.
“These are for you,” he said, moving forward to set the cellophane-wrapped bundle down on my work table before backing to the doorway again. This time he stood upright, his right hand gripping his left arm at the elbow. A strand of hair fell across his brow. I wanted to move around the table and push it out of his eyes, but didn’t.
“Thank you.”
He took a step or two closer to where I stood. As he stared at me, I resisted the urge to cover my canvas. To do so would only give the game away and draw his eyes to the one place I didn’t want his attention. I took a step closer to him, angling my body so that it blocked his line of sight to my picture.
“I am sorry for my behavior,” he said simply, the canvas ignored for the time being.
“That makes two of us.” I hadn’t exactly been grateful.
Adam sighed as he rubbed his day-old stubble, his hand dropping to his side. He took another step toward me. Only the table separated us now. He placed his palms on its top, his gaze concentrated on the shiny surface, as if it held all the answers.
“I did not want this complication.” He paused. “I was a fool to think I could stay aloof and not get involved. I see I made a serious error in judgment. Do you understand what I am saying?” he asked, leveling his gaze at me.
“No,” I answered truthfully.
He grimaced.
“I have been alone for so long that I do not know how to be around people,” he explained, “and I am just making this bloody situation worse.” Adam gave me a look that felt like it was hotwired directly to my heart as his eyes held me fast, the confusion in them washing away any remnants of resentment I might’ve still felt for his strange behavior. “I need for there to be meaning in my life. I need to connect…with you.”
I was speechless.
He took my silence as disapproval. “I know I do not deserve it, but I would like another chance, Poesy. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow? Eight o’clock?” He reached across the table to place his hand over my clenched one. The tingling was instantaneous and reassuring.
I looked up at him once more. He hadn’t uttered any words of undying attraction, yet what he had said was enough. For now.
“Okay.”
He gave me a tentative smile this time. Picking up my hand, he pulled it over the table toward him before turning it over and exposing the tender skin of my arm. He placed his lips on my wrist.
“Thank you.” He whispered his words, tiny vibrations against my pulse point.
I now understood what the phrase “weak at the knees” meant. I was not just weak at the knees, I felt weak everywhere. And hot. My skin felt like it was on fire, and I could feel my desire begin to smolder beneath where he kissed, the tingling intensifying the feeling.
I would’ve lost all my inhibitions, sliding over the table just to be closer to him, had Birdie not walked into my studio, scowling. My sharp intake of breath drew Adam’s attention. I yanked my hand out of his grasp, trying to compose the churning thoughts in my head.
“Well, isn’t this cozy,” announced Birdie, his voice laced with sarcasm. Birdie might be easygoing, but he was still a man…a man who felt threatened.
“Hey, Birdie,” I croaked, my mind frantically searching for the words to dissolve the mounting tension between the two men.
“Why are you here?” Birdie demanded, barely keeping his aggression in check.
Meanwhile, Adam had straightened up and turned to face Birdie. While Adam towered over him by almost six inches, Birdie had no intention of backing down. I had to think of something fast.
“Adam just stopped by to ask about my paintings.” I rushed around the table to stand between the two men. I ignored Adam’s confused look, even though I felt ashamed by the lie. Why couldn’t I tell Birdie the truth?
“Do you think I’m a complete idiot? What the hell are the flowers for, then?” Birdie asked, pointing at the flowers and then glaring at Adam. I mentally cursed the flowers, which had been a cherished gift seconds before, but were now just contributing to this mess with Birdie. I didn’t know what to say.
“I am just on my way over to see Brianna,” replied Adam, who had pulled his wallet out and dropped a business card on the table. “Here are my details if you need them.”
He put his wallet away before picking up the flowers and holding his hand out to Birdie.
Birdie looked perplexed by the turn of events. He hadn’t expected that…neither had I. Clearly, he was trying to protect me, but Brianna? Couldn’t he have picked someone else—anyone else? The pangs of jealousy doused any lingering desire I might’ve still felt.
Birdie shook and then released Adam’s hand. Thinking everything was settled, I started to walk Adam to the door when Birdie’s hand reached out and grabbed my waist, pulling me in toward him. Adam turned toward me to say something and stopped abruptly as Birdie kissed me. I tried to push Birdie away, but he just kissed me harder. He finally pulled back from me, a mischievous grin on his face.
“Stop it,” I hissed under my breath. I could feel my face flush as I tried to recover. “I’ll see you later,” I said, turning to Adam. “Thanks again for stopping by.” Birdie glanced between the two of us.
“Sure. Well, take care then.” Adam’s expression was unreadable. He fled out of the shed, never looking behind him.
“He’s a bit strange, isn’t he? Well, good luck to Brianna, that’s what I say,” said a happier Birdie, no doubt thrilled that he had run Adam off. I punched him in the arm.
“Ow! What did you go and do that for?” asked Birdie, rubbing his arm and looking hurt.
“Are you serious?” I asked, exasperated. “You have to ask?”
“Well, it’s not like you haven’t kissed me before, is it?” he asked, shrugging. I punched his arm again.
“Okay, all right, I’m sorry.” Birdie winced.
“Damn straight, you’re sorry! When did you decide it’d be okay to turn into some hulking Neanderthal?” I tried to rein in my embarrassment and anger. “Look, I know things have been kinda strained, but you can’t just do that. It makes me uncomfortable.” I shuffled my feet, feeling just that—uncomfortable. I was so not prepared for this conversation.
“I know,” he said quietly. “I understand you’re not ready. Maybe you’ll never be. The funny thing is, Poe, everyone can see it but you. It’s almost a goddamn tragedy.” His laugh sounded bitter, and it made me cringe. He shook his head and sighed. “But I’m not gonna force you to accept it. I know you have to get there in your own way. I slipped up just now, but I won’t do it again. Promise.”
I didn’t know what to say, but I tried anyhow. “You matter to me, you really do. I would do anything for you—anything but that. I can’t go there, Birdie. It scares the crap out of me. I just…can’t.” I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.
The frustration in Birdie’s face was clear, but he got ahold of himself quickly, his face taking on a neutral expression once again. “It’s fine, Poe. Just drop it. I’m here on different business, anyhow.” He walked over to the stainless steel worktop and hopped up on it, his legs swinging back and forth as his hands gripped the table, his torso leaning forward over the edge. He titled his head in that cute Birdie way.
“What?” I asked, somewhat defensively. I wasn’t up for any more surprises.
“It’s not bad, Poe. Wow, you are tense.” He smiled this time. “We’ve been asked to play some out-of-town gigs, and I want you to come.”
The Robotic
Overlords got asked to do a tour.
My heart skipped a beat.
So soon?
“Wow, that’s great, Birdie,” I said quickly, trying not to dwell on the ramifications of his news. He’d go off and have an exciting life without me…
“It’s no big deal,” he replied, shrugging. “We’re going to open for another band for a few mid-Atlantic dates. They heard our stuff and contacted us. It’s over Thanksgiving. I figured you wouldn’t have plans, and it’d be cool to have you with me.”
Birdie wanted me to tag along on what could be his big break.
I smiled brightly at him. “I’m so happy for you, and I’d love to tag along. Are you sure I won’t get in the way?”
“I’d rather have you there than anyone else.” He backtracked quickly. “As my friend, you know, having my best friend with me.”
I strode over to the table and squeezed him tightly, inhaling deeply. He sighed and hugged me back. His smell was so comforting. I gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “I’m so proud of you. I hope you remember me when you’re big and famous.” I swallowed back my tears.
His voice was much more solemn than before as his breath brushed by my ear. “Don’t even go there. You will always be with me, Poe. Always.” He kissed the top of my head.
“God, I’m such a horrible person,” I moaned before untangling myself from him.
He shook his head. “You’re not a horrible person, just a confusing one. I’ve known you my whole life, and some days I still don’t understand you.” He smiled then. “But I’ve learned to live with that, you know?”
His words didn’t make me feel any better. “It’s so unfair…I’m so unfair. I mean, look at me. Why am I so complicated? Why can’t I just be happy?”
Birdie shrugged, then his mood became more serious once again. He jumped down from the table but didn’t look at me this time. He was trying hard to stay upbeat, but I knew where his heart was, and I was responsible for that.
“Birdie, I just–”
But he was already halfway out the door before he turned around.
“Just leave it, Poe. We’re okay.”
I watched him walk out into the dusk.
We’re okay…for now, I thought.
6
I wasn’t sure if I was up for going out with Adam.
Between my topsy-turvy relationship with Birdie and Alberta’s murder setting the whole town on edge, it somehow felt inappropriate to be excited to go out on a date. Instead, I felt a bit edgy myself and, if I was honest, a bit guilty over Birdie, too. It somehow felt like betrayal to go out with Adam, and I had to remind myself Birdie and I were just friends, even if he wanted more. I wanted this date—needed it, in fact—and I didn’t need to feel like somehow I was doing something wrong. It had been ages since a man had asked me out to dinner, and I liked Adam. Wasn’t it okay to put myself first for a change? I had to let go of all this angst or it was just going to make me miserable. It was just dinner, after all.
Feeling better, I pulled my favorite pair of faded jeans out of my closet and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw they not only fit, but were, in fact, a bit loose. I tried on several shirts until I finally chose a long-sleeved khaki one with a scoop neck, to which I added a pashmina scarf with tiny silver threads. Putting in a pair of sterling dangly earrings, I grabbed my turquoise pendant and Ellie’s mood stone ring off the dresser.
Back in front of the mirror, I was happy with the effect—very boho. My hair was still bleached out from last season’s sun. I hadn’t had time to use my hair straightener, but made peace with my naturally wavy hair and tucked the curliest strands of my bob behind my ears. The minimal amount of makeup I applied was just enough to give me color, but not enough to make me look made-up.
A car horn blared outside, and I looked at the bedside clock. It was ten until eight, which meant he was early. I rushed around the bedroom, looking for an appropriate pair of shoes. Not finding anything I liked, I reached into the back of the closet for the heeled boots. Although a bit scuffed, they would have to do. I put on an old pair of socks and zipped up the boots. Not having time to do more than throw a final cursory glance at the mirror, I headed out the door.
I reached the porch just in time to see Adam get out of his car. He unfolded himself gracefully from what appeared to be a sleek and very expensive sports model that was in all likelihood imported. As I turned my gaze from the car to the man standing beside it, I noticed he’d dressed in slacks and a sports jacket, which meant I was utterly underdressed for the occasion. Embarrassed, I had turned around in the hope of fleeing back into the house to change when Adam cleared his throat. From right behind me. I turned, startled. He had appeared on the porch in a blink of an eye.
Impossible.
“That was fast,” was all I could think to say.
He smiled at me, taking the time to look me over.
“I’m just going to go back in and change.”
“It is fine,” he said reassuringly.
“No, it’s not.”
“Poesy–”
“Seriously, it’ll only take a–”
“Stop,” he commanded.
I looked anywhere but at his face.
“You look very pretty, Poesy. Shall we?” he asked, holding out his arm.
I wrapped my arm around his and proceeded to stroll toward the car, the buzzing pleasant. He walked me to the passenger-side door and opened it for me.
“Nice car,” I murmured under my breath. Understatement of the year.
“Thanks.”
“I guess you don’t mind standing out in a crowd, then.”
“Actually, this Lotus model gets very good gas mileage,” he countered.
“Sure, and that’s exactly why you’ve got one, right?”
“It is very fast as well, if you must know,” he replied, smiling.
“Of course.”
Folding my body up like a contortionist, I squeezed into the racing seat deep within the chassis, secretly giving myself a high-five for choosing jeans over a skirt. Getting in and out of this car in a skirt would be a nightmare. As it was, I adjusted my butt so that I was sitting as comfortably as possible in the low-slung seat, my legs stretched out in front of me while I searched for a seatbelt, to no avail.
“Here, let me.” He reached over my head for what appeared to be a harness.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” I looked into his grinning face.
“I never kid about personal safety,” he replied. He pulled the harness over my head and reached between my legs for the clipping strap. I held my breath and shut my eyes. He was practically on top of me as he cinched the harness into place, the smell of his musky cologne wafting up toward my nose, the heat of his body radiating off his skin.
“Thanks,” I croaked as he extricated himself from my side of the car.
He chuckled as he glided around to the driver’s side.
Adam slid into the car noiselessly and was in his own harness in a matter of seconds. I looked over at him and noted there was no steering wheel. Before I could ask, he reached between his feet and pulled out a racing wheel, attaching it to the driving shaft with a few sliding bolts.
“Wow.”
“I cannot get in and out without removing it. Too tall,” he admitted, giving me a slight shrug.
With both of us secured in the car, he turned over the engine, and it thrummed to life with a guttural roar. Reversing out of the driveway quicker than was necessary, we were off, heading out of Tybee and into Savannah.
As we drove into town, I studied the inside of Adam’s car. It had been designed with the bare necessities in mind: two seats, roll-down windows, a net sling behind the seats that would carry a half dozen maps at best and a minimalist control panel for heat in the winter. No AC, no radio, no anything, really. Not that listening to a radio would be possible. The roar of the engine permeated every nook and cranny inside the
passenger compartment. It even got into the back of my head. I listened to the engine as he shifted gears with the ease of an expert. It was all I could do, really…I couldn’t talk to Adam even if I wanted to.
I glanced over at his profile, wondering what the real Adam was like. Was the car meant to keep people in awe, prevent them from looking past the exterior? I didn’t know a lot about him, and while I was a little disturbed by that, I was also a little excited. The few guys that I’d been out with, I’d known since childhood, and the one or two summer flings I’d had didn’t count. No, this was different. Even though I didn’t know anything about him, it felt like this was where I was supposed to be.
I focused on the road as we turned off the island expressway and headed down the main strip of downtown. After a couple of turns and several curious glances, we arrived outside a tall, unmarked brick warehouse. As luck would have it, we found a spot right outside of the building. I didn’t struggle to undo my harness; instead, I waited patiently while Adam came around to my side of the car and unhitched me.
“Thanks,” I murmured, trying to get out of the car as elegantly as possible.
“Hold onto me.”
He grabbed my hand, steadying me as I swung my legs over the side of the chassis. The tingling seemed fainter this time, perhaps because I was concentrating on not stumbling out of the car. Standing up on the sidewalk, I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t fallen out onto the pavement after all.
“We are on time.” He ushered me toward the industrial door that marked the entrance.
The building was an old tobacco warehouse that had been re-pointed and sandblasted to expose clean, bright brick underneath. What few windows there were had been tinted in such a way that those inside could look out, but outsiders couldn’t see in. But for a single sleek steel sconce bellowing gassy flames into the sky, the building was hardly worth a second glance. However, that was just a ruse. I was pretty sure we had just stepped inside Oboe, an exclusive Japanese fusion restaurant. The waitlist to get in was legendary, not that I could’ve ever afforded to eat there anyway.
Watcher (The Shining Ones Book 1) Page 8
