Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(27)

“Yes. You would have to leave the loft . . . even when Zach lived there, I doubted he had a regular paper delivery.”

Zane flashed her a grin. “Zach wouldn’t know what a regular paper delivery was.”

“Bullshit.” She shrugged and glanced around. “He gets the paper delivered to the shop. He loves the comics.”

“Point taken.” He stood up, gestured to the counter. “I’m empty. And we’re meeting for coffee. What do you drink?”

“Black. Just black.” She glanced up at him, a quick smile on her face, then looked down.

The tattoo on the curve of her neck, that large, exotic rose stood out in stark relief against the soft, pale cream of her skin and he wanted to bend down, press his mouth to her, right there, where the petals were forever frozen just before bursting into full bloom.

Slowly, she shifted her gaze to him, studying him.

Coffee.

Right.

Why in the hell had he said he wanted five minutes for a cup of coffee?


*

As he turned away, Keelie blew out a breath. Absently, she reached up to touch the rose inked onto her neck before focusing on the paper in front of her. The words blurred and ran together in front of her, but that was okay.

If she was staring at the paper, she wasn’t staring at Zane.

She’d stood outside on the sidewalk a good two minutes doing nothing but that before she’d come inside.

He’d been completely focused on what he was doing, that was for certain.

From the corner of her eye, she shot him a glance.

Her breath caught as she saw him looking at her.

Nerves jangled in her belly and she tried to figure out just what she was supposed to do. Smile? Nothing?

But he turned away before she could figure it out. That was a relief.

This is stupid. Brooding, she stared at the paper, eyes catching on one ad, circled in red. Why was she nervous, really? It wasn’t like she and Zane had to go through that stupid get to know you stage.

They did know each other.

He was a photographer, worked in a bar.

Although she had no idea why he did the bar thing, considering the pictures he took. She wasn’t too into photography, but she haunted the blog he updated irregularly and she’d actually joined Instagram only because he was on there. He had thousands of followers, too. Like ten thousand–plus, if not more. He’d had pictures featured by major media outlets and she’d had her breath knocked out of her more than once just by staring at the images he’d taken.

With that kind of talent, she didn’t know why he didn’t live behind his camera.

“Here you go.”

He put a cup in front of her and she looked up, caught off guard.

Blue green eyes studied her thoughtfully as she took the coffee, lifted the lid to let steam escape. “You look like you’re thinking hard.”

She shrugged, not about to tell him she was brooding about how weird this all felt, or that she didn’t understand why he spent time mixing drinks when he ought to be out trotting the globe and amazing people with the images he captured with his camera.

“Decided you’re not in the mood for coffee after all?”

There was a weird edge to his voice and she slowly lifted her eyes, met his. Normally, she couldn’t read a damn thing when it came to Zane, but just then, she thought maybe she saw something in the back of his eyes—something that might have echoed the nerves she felt.

Slowly, she lowered the coffee and leaned forward. Hooking one leg around the leg of her chair, she chewed on her lower lip, tried to figure out what to say, how to say it.

Keelie didn’t know how to do this. She was blunt. She was very often a bitch and she didn’t know, or care to learn, all the subtle ins and outs of conversation that so many people used. She’d seen subtext and polite conversation used to hide some of the ugliest of lies and that was when she’d stopped trying to be felicitous.

It was easier to just not say anything . . . or to say what she felt.

It had taken her a very long time to get to the point to where she could start speaking plainly about her feelings. Silence had been easier.

But silence wasn’t going to cut it here.

“This feels . . .” She ran her tongue around her teeth, decided that maybe she should take a little bit of care with her words. Stupid wasn’t going to win her any points here. “It feels weird, sitting here like this.”

“Yeah?” He slumped in his chair, gaze locked on her. He looked relaxed, calm.

She knew he was anything but.

“Why is that?” he asked softly.

“Because this is like . . .” She rolled her eyes and looked around. “It’s basically a date. Right?”

Now a grin tugged at his lips. “If we have to label it as something, I guess so. But I really wish you would have let me make our first date something a little better than a cup of coffee, Keelie.”

Blood rushed up, heating her face. She suspected that if she looked in the mirror, she’d be glowing pink just then. “Stop,” she said, narrowing her eyes. Then she shrugged. “That’s the thing. It’s a date. A first date. And we’re in a coffee shop and I don’t know what to say. It’s like . . .”

She paused, chewed on her lip. “On first dates, people spend half the time trying to get to know the other person or maybe decide if they even want to.”