Chapter 6

“There are so many things on my mind, I hardly know where to start,” Tristan finally responded after a long enough pause that Cassidy had started to get antsy.

This shelter had always seemed enormous to someone who had grown up in an 1100 square foot house. She’d secretly used it as a place to relax when the pressures of school administration drove her to distraction. Stress usually generated a hostile environment beneath her skin, often causing her brain to started serving up rapid-fire thoughts that meant she had no shot at focusing, and the sparse décor in the shelter worked to soothe her for some reason.

It wasn’t working now. Tristan’s presence had created a whole different set of stimuli that her body wasn’t doing a great job of handling. And instead of sticking to the trite, obnoxious script he always seemed to have handy, he’d veered off into Morse code lessons and sincere conversation, which solidified the realization that she hadn’t met the real Tristan Marchande yet.

She had no idea what to say next. Part of her wished she could say nothing but as he’d so eloquently pointed out, no one was looking for them. The door was locked. They’d sent off a message that Tallhorse may or may not receive and even if he did, they had no guarantee he’d figure out where it came from. Tristan’s earlier statement had been emblazoned across her soul and she couldn’t erase it: Cassidy would be spending the night with a man for the first time in her life.

That reality would be so much less pleasant if she didn’t respond to his sincere attempt at conversation in kind.

“I can sympathize,” she blurted out and he raised his eyebrows in a clear request for her to explain what the heck she was talking about. “With having so much on your mind that you can’t quite articulate it all.”

For whatever reason, that made him chuckle. He unwound from the floor in an elegant untangling of limbs and extended a hand to help her up in kind. “This part isn’t so hard. Here’s the first thing on my mind. We’ll be much more comfortable on the couch since we’re going to be here for a while. Sit with me.”

Since there was no reason not to, she slipped her hand into his, palm to palm, and it was no less electric than when he’d led her through the tapping exercise a few moments ago, which had been borne out of sheer desperation to feel like she was doing something to get them out of here.

When Tristan pulled her to her feet, he didn’t step back like a normal person would and he also didn’t let go of her hand, seemingly as transfixed by their sudden proximity as she was. He was right there, close enough that if she swayed forward even a fraction, more than one body part would meet.

Not that she was thinking about doing that, not at all, but then, there was the whole spending-the-night-together dynamic that had zero romantic overtures laced through it which was kind of a shame for her first time and maybe it wasn’t so horrible to recognize that deep down inside she harbored a tiny bit of disappointment over that reality, like way deep down where no one else had to know about it—

That’s when he swayed closer and the brush of his hip against hers did things to her skin that should be illegal.

Mute, she stared up at him, wishing she could interpret the snap in his blue eyes and really wishing she had the will to pull her hand free. But everything froze in that moment, suspended in time. Even her normally spazzed-out brain fell under the spell, and it was so lovely to have that kind of peace ruling her body that she couldn’t bring herself to end it even though she absolutely should. Right now.

All at once, whatever magic had engulfed them shattered as he stepped back, dropping her hand unceremoniously to stand there looking flustered as he smoothed back the hair at his temple with short, nervous strokes. The more he touched his hair, the more she had a crazy desire to see it out of the knot he wore it in, down around his shoulders the way it would be in the shower for example.

“So, um…are you hungry?” he asked without meeting her gaze.

So hungry. Her insides twinged and not for food. But for what, she couldn’t fathom. This was Tristan. They didn’t like each other. Or rather, they spent a lot of time at odds. Normally. This was so far out of the norm that she had no clue which way was up.

Get a grip.

“We should probably eat something,” she acknowledged. “Let me see what I have squirreled away in the fridge. Sit on the couch and give me a sec.”

Obediently, he complied, folding his long body into the end seat and she experienced a fair amount of flustering herself as she absorbed that he’d followed her command without arguing or saying anything obnoxious. If this was how it was going to be between them while they were trapped down here, she had little to complain about. And a bucket and a half of things to be wary of considering how easily they could fall into another charged moment that might end a whole lot differently.

Which could not happen. Up till now, she’d used his abrasive personality as a shield. An excuse. A reason to be witchy in return, solely so they’d avoid charged moments. What was she supposed to do now to keep him from guessing how easily he affected her?

For crying out loud, she was no better than the masses of women he could have slobbering all over him by doing no more than crooking his finger at them. No better and certainly no more special. She had to remember that. He plowed through women like Cassidy plowed through chocolate when stressed. Which was why there was only one small candy bar in the fridge. When had she eaten the rest?

“Here.” She pulled a Diet Coke from the fridge and the last Milky Way and handed them over, chagrined that she had nothing more to offer him from her fancy teacher’s lounge with the faulty locks. “No comments if diet isn’t your thing.”

He flashed her a smile. “Do I look like I need to be on a diet?”

Her eyes practically rolled by themselves, no help needed on her part. “You know you don’t. You don’t have to fish for compliments. I’ll freely admit you probably don’t break many mirrors.”

His expression went from amused to fake gob smacked in under a second. “Was that Cassidy Calloway actually saying something flattering to me?”

“Don’t get used to it,” she advised him as he clutched his chest as if she’d given him a heart attack. “Sorry there’s not more to eat that’s not stress food.”

“Is this your private stash?” He held up the Milky Way, looking ridiculously flattered. “Because I would feel terrible taking food out of your mouth. This is your space and I’m only here because I barged in. You should eat it.”

For some reason, that pleased her. Maybe because he’d been paying attention to the undercurrents enough to know she’d volunteered her comfort chocolate to him. Or maybe just because he’d demonstrated the ability to be a decent human instead of the spawn of the devil. “I’m giving it to you. Because I forgot to go to the grocery store in La Grange. I mean, Mavis J is great and all, but she doesn’t carry everything that the Food Lion does.”

“Just out of curiosity, what would be in there if you had gone to the grocery store?”

That sounded like the precursor to a conversation between two people who were, say…on a date. This was not a date. “What is this, twenty questions?”

“Sure.” He lifted one shoulder elegantly as he unwrapped the candy bar and nodded at the couch cushion next to him. “Sit down and we’ll share. But you only get a bite after you answer the question.”

“Maybe I don’t want to play,” she told him and was only half kidding. What kind of deep dark confessions would he pull from her if chocolate was her motivation? Prediction. Pregnancy. Both needed to be front and center of her brain. “Did you think of that?”

“If that’s the case, okay. But you’re passing up an unprecedented opportunity here. Not many people get no-holds-barred access to ask me anything they want to in return.”

The casual lift of his eyebrows did nothing to diminish the impact of that statement but only because the idea appealed to her enormously. A chance to get to know this intriguing and surprising man on the heels of realizing there was more to him than met the eye? Yes, please.

But only so she could see him coming. That was the only reason, mostly, but also maybe because she had to do something to pass the time and why not this, especially since he’d suggested it which meant he wanted to pass the time too and it was her fault they were in here, plus geez, there was nothing wrong with having a healthy curiosity about what went on beneath the skin of a man built like an angel, not that she’d admit that—

She sat on the couch as far away from him as possible, which wasn’t all that far given the size of the man and the much smaller scale of the furniture. Plus he rarely just sat, choosing instead to let his body basically drape all over everything in the laziest of sprawls.

Or rather she would have called it lazy prior to tonight. Now, she saw that it was more of a function of his outrageously long limbs, a thing she should not be paying attention to while in this close of proximity to Tristan. It was just that he was so tall and filled out his frame as if he’d never met a set of barbells he didn’t curl.

“Do you even fit in chairs?” she blurted out and then rolled her eyes at herself. “I mean, you just seem like the type who would always be uncomfortable in furniture meant for regular sized people. Because you’re so tall.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

His smiled teased one out of her and it was only partly against her will. Dang it, when had his charm started to affect her? Was there something in the chocolate that wasn’t supposed to be there? “I’m a charter member of the Captain Obvious Club.”

That made him laugh out loud, which went a long way toward easing her embarrassment. Social skills had never been her forte and coupled with the extraordinary circumstances, she might as well give up any hope of getting through this conversation with a modicum of grace.

“Isaiah says that all the time,” he commented. “Not the charter member part. But he calls himself Captain Obvious when he’s pointing out things he thinks you already know yet aren’t acting on like you should be. I like the way you use it better. You have a really nice sense of humor.”

Her cheeks stung as she absorbed his compliment, which planted itself in the square center of her solar plexus and grew so fast, she scarcely knew what to do with how good it made her feel. “That’s the first time anyone has ever thought so.”

“Then people are idiots.” He waggled the Milky Way. “Still haven’t heard the answer to my question. Fridge contents. Go.”

“I like cheese and crackers,” she told him but not strictly to get a bite of the candy bar. The compliment had gone a long way and no, she didn’t for a second believe that had been an accident. “The Diet Coke is Tallhorse’s, but I figure he owes us a few.”

“You’re not drinking one,” Tristan pointed out with a tilt of his own can. “Because it’s vile, right?”

She laughed and that was when she relaxed against the back of the couch. “Yeah. I don’t like soda as a whole. I mostly drink water, but you know. I forgot to buy that too.”

Normally she’d never admit to something like that because forgetting things was the bane of her existence. If she didn’t have at least three lists—to give herself a backup in case she lost one—it didn’t get done. And even then, sometimes she left a place without looking at the list in her hand because she’d forgotten she had it clutched between her fingers. There was always something more interesting to look at, especially in La Grange, where she didn’t venture very often.

Tristan had unwittingly created an atmosphere that felt hospitable enough to be real with him. And besides, people forgot stuff all the time and no one accused them of being defective. He didn’t have to know that her absent mindedness wasn’t a cute eccentricity or that she forgot important things too, like her keys and sometimes where she lived.

“Well, I’m not sharing my Coke,” he informed her blithely with a wink. “A man needs his caffeine, as horrifically packaged as it may be.”

“It’s better than Dr. Pepper though, isn’t it?”

“That is God’s gospel. Bite.”

He extended the candy bar and she went along with the game, biting off a much smaller piece than she normally would have, but he was watching her with a gaze so deep, it went on for miles. The caramel got stuck on the roof of her mouth while she was busy paying attention to the sheer perfection of his lips and that’s when she remembered why she didn’t like to eat around men. How did you gracefully pry caramel off the roof of your mouth while in the company of someone who had been born with more style than a year’s subscription to GQ?

“Your turn to ask a question,” he said because of course it was.

She held up a finger and tongued the caramel as fast as she could while his laser focus gave her extreme performance anxiety. Finally she’d cleaned it up enough to speak and the distraction of it had to be the reason she busted out the only question she had no answer for. “If you’re not a womanizer, what are you?”

Tristan choked on the sip of Diet Coke he’d just tried to swallow but recovered before she could even scroll through the Heimlich maneuver positions in her head.

“You play to win, I guess,” he said ruefully and smoothed back his hair, which meant she’d pushed him a little off-kilter. Good. Nice to return the favor occasionally.

Since he seemed okay, she didn’t touch him. But the image of wrapping her arms around him from behind, like she would have had to do to perform the Heimlich, would not fade from her mind’s eye. “Is it possible to win twenty questions? I thought it was just a way to kill time while we wait to be rescued.”

“No. That’s where you’re wrong. I’m playing because you interest me.”

With that cryptic statement pinging around between them, she crossed her arms and tried to pretend it wasn’t solely to hold in the heavy honey feeling that his voice had started spreading through her veins. “I might could say the same thing.”

“But are you?”

“Is that one of your twenty questions?” she shot back somewhat irately. How dare he call her on her ambiguousness? It was almost like he knew she couldn’t figure out where to draw that line between being civil and falling into his lap like a puppy begging for attention.

“Yes.” His decisiveness brought her up short and also gave her zero wiggle room. “I was honest with you. Try it on for size.”

“Fine. You interest me too. But only because I don’t get you.” Flustered all at once, she waved a hand in his general direction. “Sometimes you seem genuine and like you might have a functional heart underneath that pristine white shirt. And other times you act like you just took a class on how to irritate me in under three seconds. Which one is the real Tristan?”

“All of the above,” he admitted quietly without hesitation. “I never pull punches. And I mean everything I say. Sometimes I let my temper get the best of me and say things I shouldn’t. I’m sorry for the times I hurt your feelings. But I’m never fake.”

“That’s a load of bull pucky,” she said with a short, unamused chuckle. “You say things to Ruby and Aria all the time that are so ridiculously over the top. Asking Ruby to marry you on a daily basis. What is that but the fakest of fake?”

Instead of taking offense at her bold accusations, he cocked his head and studied her, his expression completely unoffended. “Why does it bother you that I take a few minutes out of my day to make a woman feel beautiful and desired?”

“Because you don’t mean it!” she burst out. “What if Ruby took you up on it? What would you do then, hot shot?”

He smiled, which should not have been his response to her pointed and one hundred percent valid question. “She knows I’m not seriously asking her to marry me. It’s just a routine that we have. She told me just the other day that she couldn’t marry me because she’s holding out for Matthew McConaughey. Do you think for a single second she meant that? No. Ruby and I are good. She gets me and how much I adore her.”

“That makes no sense.” Because that wasn’t how it worked. A man said stuff and a woman got ideas, especially when the man in question could most definitely fulfill whatever fantasy she came up with but probably would not. “How does lying to someone about your intentions make her feel adored?”

“I don’t spend a lot of time dissecting it, Cassidy,” he said with a laugh that she’d have sworn would have raked down her spine obnoxiously earlier this morning, but didn’t now, and then he shrugged good-naturedly. “But I know it works because I’ve been the man of honor at three of my ex-girlfriends’ weddings. I’m the starter guy, the one that gets them on track to their soul mates.”

“Man of honor. What is that? That’s not even a thing.” Of course, she was still back on the fact that he’d been invited to the ceremony of an ex in the first place, let alone included in the wedding party. “You made that up.”

Tristan scowled, ruining the gorgeous lines of his cheekbones. “I did no such thing. It’s totally legit. Maybe more of a California trend if you’ve never heard of it. Regardless, that’s not the point. Women end up with a better man after me and that’s a good thing.”

That was the opening she’d been waiting for. She pounced.

“I think the part that you’re missing is that it always ends.” A fine fact to keep in mind unless she wanted to be a single mom once he breathed on her and gifted her with a pregnancy that he’d want no part of. She waved a hand intended to encompass his long body. “With all of that going on, you shouldn’t be single. Yet you are. Because you can’t be sincere with a woman.”

All at once, his expression heated dangerously fast and his gaze sliced her open as he stared at her, refusing to let her look away, which shouldn’t be so hard when all she had to do was turn her head but there was so much seething inside her that she couldn’t get her muscles to obey—

“What do I have going on, Cassidy?” he asked, his voice low and thick. “To hear you tell it, I’m only just enough on this side of hideous to avoid shattering a mirror with my reflection.”

Oh, no. Not touching that with a ten-foot pole. She’d shook her head. Vigorously. And wondered when on earth she’d learn to think before she spoke. “I just meant…you know. That you’re tall. And blond. Women—some women—must like that.”

“But not you?”

“No. Definitely not me.”

That crystalline blue gaze of his wouldn’t stop invading her consciousness, calling her out for lying when she’d just accused him of doing the same thing. What was good for the goose was good for the gander as her grandma always used to say, and there was literally no escaping the fact that if she could call him out for being disingenuous, she had to follow her own rules.

“I mean…” She swallowed. “Sure, you’ve got the whole package on the surface. It’s deep down inside where there’s a problem, especially with the way you flirt with every woman on the planet.”

“That’s the lie, Cassidy,” he said, his voice low. “You have me pegged all wrong. I’m not a womanizer. A womanizer takes advantage of a woman’s vulnerabilities in order to gain something for himself. I’m the opposite. I love women, love figuring out how to make them feel good about themselves. For example, if I tell you I think it’s admirable that you’re running this school, that you stepped up to take on that huge role without any thought to the difficulties solely to help this town get on its feet as a place people would be happy to move to, I’m being completely sincere.”

“Really?” she whispered, wholly enthralled with the idea that Tristan had noticed how hard she worked and hadn’t said one word about her lack of qualifications, in fact, he’d specifically called out her efforts as admirable—

“Cross my heart.”

But instead of tracing an X over his breastbone the way a typical person would have, he reached out and captured her hand, laying it flat against his chest. Covered it with his own, larger palm.

Thumpthumpthump. His heart thundered against his rib cage, and she felt it pulse all the way down to her toes.

“To prove that I have one,” he murmured. “And by the way, it doesn’t normally beat that fast.”

Because…why? Because of her? That’s what he was saying? The thick blanket of awareness that hadn’t ever seemed to really fade in the first place grew heavier and denser as they stared at each other, connected in the most elemental of ways, almost as if his heart was beating inside her own chest, raising her pulse to a deliriously high level in kind.

“Maybe we should just get back to playing twenty questions,” she squawked and pulled free before things got completely out of hand.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, not one iota bent out of shape that she’d changed the subject.

“How you’re going to make a woman feel special when you reach that point where you don’t want to cast her off,” she blurted out and then thought seriously about biting her tongue off. Why had she asked him that, as if the answer mattered?

But it did matter. She wanted to understand why she was so viscerally attracted to a man who had just told her point blank that he ended relationships on purpose, and not only did he get rid of them, he did it with flair, like it was something to be proud of.

She should quit while she was ahead, but the cat was already so far out of the bag, nothing short of an industrial-strength vacuum cleaner would suck him back in.

“I mean,” she continued. “What are you going to do when you find yourself in a situation where you yearn to be the better man?”