Before I can think of a witty reply, something casual and sitcom funny, he turns and leaves my apartment.
I asked Leo to kiss me. I do remember most of it—the pressure of his mouth on mine and the absolute feeling of rightness. It’s as if his kiss fit perfectly into the hole in my heart, filling it up like putty to stopgap the blood pouring out.
How can I remember that kiss so well and be so fuzzy on the other parts of the night?
I snuggle my head into my pillow, thinking of Leo’s kiss. The apartment is quiet except for the noises from the downstairs bakery. It’s a Saturday and customers will come in throughout the day. I can never hear their conversations, but the door opens and closes. The metal pans clink against the oven racks.
I don’t fall into sleep as I’d hoped, but I lie still and quell the nausea for a while. When it’s safe to move, I crawl out of bed and into the shower.
Hours later, I’m sitting on the edge of my bed painting my nails when there’s a soft knock at the door. I’m on my feet and running past the half wall that separates my bedroom from the living area. Then I stand with my hands flat on the door, check the peephole, and try to get my heart rate under control for the next ten seconds.
What am I doing? He didn’t ask me to go on a date. Or did he? No. Lunch is not a date.
Besides, he’s still Leo the neighbor-writer-postcard-hoarder. I pull the door open. “Hi.”
Leo, who was attractive when I first saw him, gets more irresistible every day.
“Hey,” he drawls and leans with his right hand high on my threshold. The movement puts him far too close to me.
I tense as I imagine throwing myself into his arms. He’d catch me with those very capable hands. And then I’d profess undying love after one kiss last night.
The thought triggers something at the edge of my memory, like an important box placed on a high shelf.
Last night, did I tell him about my postcard? No. I don’t think so.
He’s never admitted he writes Mr. Expose, as if it’s some huge secret.
I shuffle uncomfortably. “Thanks for everything from, you know, earlier. Is Josie OK?”
“Yeah. She’ll be fine. I told you. She doesn’t get sick.” He chuckles and walks past me into my apartment and sits on the arm of the sofa. It’s my newest addition to the apartment, delivered just yesterday. It’s comforting to see Leo making himself at home in my space.
I could get used to sharing everything with him.
“Ready for a bite to eat?” He unfolds his arms and stands.
Lunch and Leo, a combination too tempting to resist. “I could do that. But we have to go Dutch. I’ll pay for mine.”
Leo gets up and walks to the door. He gives me a slow grin, his wide mouth revealing even, white teeth. The gleam in his eyes shoots a thrill straight through my heart. “We can wrestle for the ticket.”
9
Canary in the Coalmine
Leo
Drinking always makes me ravenous the next day. It’s the way my metabolism works. Harper, on the other hand, still appears a little green around the edges and avoids looking at my plate.
She nibbles on a poached egg and toasted bagel. We’re at Pistol’s on Music Row since Harper says she hasn’t been to many places besides Dastardly’s. I’m having a steak scramble and relishing every bite, my appetite on full blast since waking up this morning.
Harper’s not meeting my gaze, for some odd reason.
“Is your egg good? You’re not eating much.”
She presses her lips together and shakes her head quickly.
“Too soon after?” I motion with my fork at the food on her plate.
“Not if you have a stomach of steel—which you obviously do.” One corner of her mouth tips up. “You had as much to drink as I did. I think.”
I fork a bite of flank steak into my mouth and grin while I chew. “Um hm.”
She rubs a hand over her eyes. “I never drink. Did I tell you my daddy is a Baptist preacher? I grew up thinking alcohol will send you straight to hell.”
My mouth twitches a little in amusement. “A lot of folks will be toasting marshmallows there if that’s true.”
She gives a half-hearted laugh. “Bonfire party.”
“Be careful if you’re not used to drinking. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Last year, Dane had his wait staff watching out for some guy who was going around dropping roofies in girls’ drinks. I wouldn’t want some guy to take advantage of you while you’re wasted.” I cringe at the thought of anything happening to her.
“I would never do anything stupid,” she says.
“No.” I grin and tear off a piece of toast. “But you were very friendly when you were drinking last night, and there are some really bad people in the world.”
“Yeah. Don’t I know it.” She makes a face and grabs her water glass to concentrate on taking a sip.
Her expression is fierce. Has someone done something bad to her?
Harper places her glass on the table. “I knew I was safe with you. You wouldn’t take advantage of me.” She picks her water back up and takes a drink.
“Oh, but I wanted to.”
Harper chokes. It takes her a few seconds to compose herself. Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. “It’s not nice to tease. Are you trying to kill me? I almost died there.”
She’s playing it off like it’s all a big joke, but my comment really got to her. I don’t want her to be nervous, but she might be if she knew I had an ice-cold shower after leaving her apartment. “I had fun last night.” I have an urge to reach across and haul her up to kiss me across the table.
“Me, too. Josie and Dane are crazy.”
“Yeah. They are.”
“I didn’t know they were dating,” she says.
Harper glances up at a couple of guys who sit at the table beside ours. One, a guy in a red plaid shirt, is giving her too much attention for my liking. I stare at him until he sees me and looks away.
I take a bite from the orange slice on my plate and shake my head. “They’re not.”
“But they really like each other.”
“Yup,” I agree.
“Are you positive?”
“Oh, yeah. But they are both hard-headed and have this thing about remaining friends.”
Harper pushes her plate to the side and rests her chin on her hand. “Oh,” she says, understanding dawning in her eyes. “They think it will ruin their friendship.”
“Um hm.” I fork another bite of steak into my mouth. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
“That’s nice. So, is Dane your best friend?”
I shrug. “He’s like a brother to me. Sometimes an irritating brother, but that’s how it goes. I’m lucky that I stay in touch with a few of the guys I grew up with.”
“I wish I had that. Wesley never liked anyone I made friends with.”
I frown at her. Her husband must’ve been a jerk. “You’ll make friends here. It takes time when you move somewhere new.”
“I guess.” She gives me a sad smile and looks away.
“Well, my sister thinks you’re awesome. Dane, too. Tell me more about your life in Washington.”
She fidgets uncomfortably. “So you, Dane, and Josie grew up here?”
Her change of subject is too quick. I want to know more about Washington, her dead husband, her life. But it’s also good that she wants to know about me. “Yes. I moved away for college and then came right back here.”
Something—a sound or a voice—catches my attention and my glance wanders to the restaurant door. Tori, my ex-girlfriend, stands beside a dark-haired girl I don’t recognize. They both scope the tables, looking for an empty spot or to see if someone is almost finished with their food. She spots me before I have a chance to look away.
Our eyes lock. My heart rate quickens at the promise of a scene, because Tori is all about making every encounter a battle. Sweat breaks on my forehead and my appetite bails.