“Of course.” A knowing grin lifted his lips. “Only the best for you, principessa.” Princess. “Even with caffè.”
I glanced at my watch, shot him a look of apology. “Speaking of joe, I’m late for coffee with my roommate.”
He shrugged, his eyes already turned back to another painting. “Of course. Another time then, bella.”
“Another time,” I called over my shoulder as I pushed through the front door. Then I realized… I didn’t even catch his name. But I knew where his restaurant was.
* * * * *
“You invite me for coffee and then you’re late.” Charlotte made a face and then offered a small smile.
“First I was scoping out places for my business, and then that art gallery I love had a new exhibit. You know how much I love art.”
She rolled her eyes, “Yes, only second to your love of beignets.”
“Sorry. I lost track of time.” I scanned the room around us and then relaxed against the chair. Asa was not here to harass me for once.
Charlotte pushed a cup toward me. “Skinny latte.”
I grabbed the cup and took a sip. “Thanks, it’s perfect. I found a place if you’re interested.”
“I don’t want to talk about your business.” She rolled her eyes again and I stopped myself from commenting. She always seemed to be annoyed lately. “So, after having time to sleep on it, have you given any more thought about our conversation?”
I set my cup down gently. “Did you know there’s a new Italian restaurant downtown? We should go sometime.”
She blew her bangs out of her eyes with a hard puff, a sure sign that she was frustrated. “You’re changing the subject.” Nose scrunched and lips twisted into a grimace, she shook her head. “You’re still going to see him aren’t you?”
And I was just going to ignore her. “So, how was the wine tasting with the girls? You came in pretty late last night, we didn’t have time to chat.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Rain?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m going to give him another chance.”
She exhaled loudly. “Why are you being so pig-headed?”
“Why are you so dead set against me being with him? You act like he kicked your puppy or something.”
She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it, shaking her head violently. Face red, she stood. “I am being a good friend to you, Rain.” She grabbed her purse. “I’m really trying.”
“You’re leaving? You’re actually going to walk out of here with this issue unresolved?”
“The issue being the guy you’re dating?”
“No. Our friendship. You’re acting crazy, over a man. When have you ever done that?” She just looked at me, shaking her head as if I was the crazy one. “Not since I almost opened that letter Kael sent me, have you acted so…irrationally.”
She smiled at me. “I’m leaving before I say something I regret.”
And she did. She actually left.
My world was falling apart. I’d quit my job. Whether or not that decision was sound remained to be seen. My best friend hated me, my sister’s choice in men was questionable and the man I’d thought I’d finally gotten over was back, making it crystal clear I’d gotten over nothing.
Once again, coffee didn’t seem nearly strong enough. I needed a drink, a night out. Just some mindless stupid fun. But not with Charlotte or my sister.
I mentally scrolled through the men I’d recently come in contact with. There was Asa. The handsome Italian at the art gallery. Kael. Who to call?
The art gallery guy with the combination of his sexy accent, our common interest in food and obvious love for art was interesting. A night out with him might be fun. Not that he’d appeared remotely interested in me. He could’ve been married for all I know, I hadn’t looked for a ring.
And then there was Asa. He was awfully annoying, always popping out of nowhere, but he had a charm about him and an undeniably naughty sexiness. Perhaps I should.
I sat up. Asa had just walked through the front door and paused in the lobby, his eyes sweeping across the coffee shop. An odd feeing zoomed through my belly. Was he searching for me?
His eyes rested on my chair then on me, and his face lit up. He raised his hand in greeting and I offered a perfunctory smile, trying to decide whether or not I was happy to see him.
His materializing just as I was envisioning him was kind of weird and sent an odd feeling skittering through my chest. I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad though.
A leather headband pushed his dreads off his face. Weird. On him, the headband looked right, masculine. My eyes dropped down and my mouth fell open. I closed it quickly but not before I saw a grin cross his face. He was wearing a wife beater, a simple white tank and a kilt, a primarily dark green with red plaid, manly skirt.
I dared to look lower and saw white tube socks and a pair of banged-up dark brown Doc Marten boots. It was the sexiest outfit I’d ever seen on a man.
I took a deep breath and tried not to stare, but by now I was not the only woman to notice the tattooed, skirt-wearing guy with dreads. Hands covered mouths, giggles escaped and cheeks blushed.
Head up and shoulders squared, he swaggered to the bar and ordered his drink. He was hot in an Outlander kind of way.
“May I join you?” He balanced a cup of black coffee with a slice of pie and a stack of napkins on a saucer, standing before me so that my face was level with his crotch. It was not the worst place to be, but it was certainly awkward. Not that he seemed to mind. Rather, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
I gestured toward the chair beside me. “Have a seat.”
He sat down, legs wide. Every woman in the café, me included, was wondering if he was wearing underwear.
He drank half his cup in one gulp and set the cup down. “The answer is no.”
“I beg your pardon,” I said, as my face burned with embarrassment. I knew he knew I knew what he was talking about.
An arrogant smirk. “Totally commando.”
“Actually, my question was, why are you wearing a kilt? Are you Scottish? ’Cause I thought you said you were half-Dutch.”
“Not Scottish. Just did a friend a favor.”
Sighing, I took the bait and leaned back in my seat. “What kind of favor includes you wearing a man-skirt?”
“My friend owns a tattoo shop and she wanted me to pose for a few shots that she could use for marketing purposes.”
“So, you’re also a model?”
He made an “are you kidding me” face. “She asked me to wear a kilt.” He raised one eyebrow. “Apparently women find it…a turn on.” He grinned. “Are you turned on?”
I was but I wasn’t going to make this guy’s head any bigger. “You’re a funny guy.”
He unfolded a napkin and placed it on his lap. “Want to share this pie?”
“No.” I watched as he brought a heaping forkful of apple filling and graham cracker crust to his mouth. Something irked me about this guy. He was cocky, that had to be it.
I felt compelled to show no interest in him whatsoever. I mean, who was he to assume I’d like him with his wild-child-meets-surfer good looks. I was tired of men in general, especially overbearing obnoxious types. They were never up to any good. Asa included.
I smiled politely, wanting to knock the cocky look off his face. “You don’t seem to get that we’re not friends. I’m not going to share dessert with some guy I just happen to keep running into.”
He took another bite, grabbed another napkin and swiped at his mouth. Still smiling. “Let’s be friends then.”
“Just like that? Because I see you here, we should be friends?”
He held up his fork filled with pie, hovered it near my mouth, his eyes watching my lips expectantly.
I shook my head and pushed his hand away.
“Wh
y not?”
“Because, it feels contrived.”
That much was true. He was pushy. Subtlely so, but still gently persistent as if I’d eventually get tired and just stop resisting him.
He shrugged and finished off the pie, pushed the plate away, crumpled up his napkin and stashed it in his cup.
His eyes were the sparkling blue-green of a Caribbean sea. They were content and cheery as if he’d had a wonderful childhood, and been the apple of his mother’s eye. I couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
“Your incorrigible is my persistence.” He settled back into his chair. “Without persistence, I wouldn’t be where I am in life today.”
“And where are you? Besides grad school, I mean.”
He just looked at me. “We were talking about why you didn’t want to be friends with me, right?”
“Right,” I said with an edge. “We have nothing in common. Besides coffee.”
He grinned then. “What do you like to do? What are your hobbies?”
“I like art. I like to cook.” I countered. “I’m a creative type.” Not a freaking accountant, a steward of other people’s money. Yeah, it felt right to say that, to be that. An iridescent feeling of lightness bubbled through me. I’d made the right career decision.
He leaned toward me. “Matisse, Pissarro or Cezanne, who’s your favorite Impressionist?”
“I like…” Eyes narrowed, I moved away from him. First he knew what coffee I ordered and now this? It was almost as if he was watching me, studying me. An odd cold feeling slithered down my spine.
“How did you know the Impressionist era is my favorite?”
“A lucky guess.” He gave me a once-over. “You look like you’d be into the non-traditional.”
“Let me guess,” I rolled my eyes, “because my hair is so wild and crazy?”
His cerulean eyes roamed over my hair. “No. I thought that even when you wore it straight and pulled back into an uncompromising bun.”
“Really? Uncompromising bun?”
He chuckled. “Even when you wore your hair like that, and you came in here wearing your creased slacks and stilettos, with a pinched face and tight shoulders, I thought there was something creative and unrestrained lurking just beneath the surface.”
“When was this?” I tried to think about when I could’ve appeared so stressed. Obviously it was right after work, but nothing specifically came to me.
“I noticed you about two months before you accused me of stealing your diary.”
“Two whole months,” I said with exaggerated surprise. “I find it hard to believe I didn’t notice your blond dreadlocks and tattoos in all that time.”
He looked directly into my eyes and smiled. “I find it hard to believe too. But now you have.”
It took a moment for me to break eye contact with him. Something warm and golden flew through me when he looked at me like that. “So, you think I’m creative and unrestrained?”
“Don’t you?”
“I’m not sure. Certainly no one else has ever seen it inside of me.”
“If anyone took the time to really look at you they’d see it was obvious.” He leaned closer and touched my hand. “And it’s your eyes that gives you away, not your hair.”
My cell phone vibrated and I snatched my hand away. That had to be Kael telling me he was ready to meet. “This doesn’t make us friends.”
He stood with me, the smell of his spicy cologne rising with us. “Of course not.”
I felt the heat of his gaze on me as I walked away.
* * * * *
“You’re right, this is a nice place.” Kael swiveled on his barstool and gazed around the bar area. “Perfect for happy hour. What’ll you have?”
“A glass of Syrah will do.” When he turned to place our order with the bartender, I took the opportunity to look at him. He was wearing a black leather blazer, a white scoop-neck shirt and jeans. He looked delicious.
“I was surprised to hear from you so soon after the museum. You were pretty upset.”
I picked up an appetizer menu. “I was thirsty.”
His eyebrows lowered slightly. “Well, I’m happy to buy you all the drinks you want, m’lady.”
“You promised not to talk about us. Or the past. Or the future.”
A muscle near his jawline twitched. “That is correct. I’m just glad you called.”
He accepted a hard apple cider in a Pilsner glass from the bartender and handed a glass of ruby-red wine to me. “Despite what I promised earlier, I want to say very quickly, that whatever I did in the past to hurt you, I apologize. I want nothing more than for us to move forward.”
I took several long sips of wine. Was it really that simple? I could stay angry and dwell on the past. Or I could accept his apology and try for happiness…again.
I faked a smile. “Not another word. You promised.”
We drank in silence, him watching me expectantly and me ignoring the thumping of my heart.
As the red wine flowed through my body, I could feel my tensions draining away and my mind beginning to feel as light and fluffy as a cloud.
After all of the recent drama in my life, it was nice to think about nothing. But then the breakfast with my father popped in my head. Every conversation I’d had with Charlotte since Kael arrived replayed in my mind. Even the random guy at the coffee house had something to say on the topic.
“You know, no one thinks it’s a good idea for me to be with you. I’m fairly sure I’m making the right decision.”
“You’ve made a decision?” He frowned into his glass. “And who doesn’t want you to be with me?”
“You name it. My dad, Charlotte,” I laughed. “Even the guy that’s stalking me at the coffee shop warned me away from you.”
He slammed his glass down so hard golden liquid splashed onto the bar. “Who’s stalking you?” He leaned forward, his eyes hard and suddenly slate-colored.
I touched his hand lightly and then jerked it back. I didn’t want to touch him. He might take it the wrong way. Hell, I might take it the wrong way.
I kept my hands safely on my lap. “Calm down, I was just making a joke. No one is stalking me. I mean, there’s this guy at the coffee shop that always seems to be there when I’m there, but he’s harmless. Annoying if anything.”
His face didn’t change expressions. “Yet he told you to stay away from me? That didn’t strike you as odd?”
I tossed my wine back and looked around the bar. Now would be a great time for the owner to appear with that complimentary dessert.
“It was after the museum. He saw that I was upset and I ended up talking to him. I needed a friend and he was there. I don’t even know him that well.”
“So now you’re confiding in strangers. You can always call me, no matter what. Don’t you know that?” He took a deep breath. “What was his name?”
“What? Oh, I don’t—Adam or Asa. It’s Asa, but really it’s nothing. He’s a grad student, he’s harmless.”
He grabbed a handful of napkins and mopped up his spilled drink. “Have you noticed any suspicious men around you? Anyone following you? Anyone send you anything suspicious like flowers with no card?”
He looked concerned but I couldn’t tell if he was worried that I had a stalker or if he was just jealous. I mean, really, flowers? There was no danger in receiving a bouquet of flowers. But whatever it was, it was nice to know he cared.
“No, I haven’t noticed any suspicious men lingering about nor have I received flowers.” I smiled at him. “Okay?”
“Yeah, sure. I just…” He waved the bartender down and held up his empty glass. “I have a cop buddy in the area, and he mentioned that muggings and rapes were on the rise in town, and that if I knew any women I should warn them.” He gave me a hopeless look. “I jus
t want you to be safe.”
The bartender gave him a second drink and he chugged it.
I finished my wine a moment later. “Raleigh’s fairly safe. I wouldn’t be concerned.” I looked around the bar area, wanting to see the owner. “I guess he’s not in. I could ask the bartender to find him.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Kael threw some money on the bar and stood. “The jazz trio I told you about will be starting their set soon. It’s a dive bar in Chapel Hill, so we need to hit the road. You’ll love this place. Best burgers in the state.”
* * * * *
Some guy had insinuated himself into Rain’s life? I sat in the dark seething while Rain, slightly tipsy made eating cottage fries look sexy.
She was turned in profile watching the live band perform a cover of a Miles Davis song and oblivious to me. We’d hardly spoken, even in her inebriated state, and that was fine with me. She obviously needed time to unwind and I was glad to facilitate that for her.
There was some guy, which wasn’t surprising considering how hot Rain was, scheming to keep her away from me. Fucking men. They were animals. And I should know, I was the fucking leader of the pack.
I reached across the table and touched her lightly in case she decided to stab me with a fork. She’d been so jittery lately, I wasn’t sure what was and what was not allowed.
But she only looked up with a smile courtesy of more wine on her face. “They’re great, right?”
I nodded with a grin on my face. I wasn’t a dog. Wouldn’t take advantage of her tonight while she was intoxicated, but I would certainly find out as much as I could about this guy warning her away from me.
“So, this guy at the coffee shop. Have you been out on a date with him? Does he know where you live?”
She shook her head without really hearing me, I could tell. The music was loud after all and the small space was filled to capacity with the sounds of glasses tinkling and shuffling feet on the wood floor.
I repeated my question and she shook her head. So maybe that was the truth. I relaxed a bit. Okay, whoever he was, he was moving slowly. That gave me time.
“You’re a beautiful girl. Be careful of the men around you, take note of your surroundings.”
Tell Me No Lies: The Black Orchid, Book 1 Page 13
