“By all means, blame it on me,” I say acerbically.
“She knows me better than to think I could be held here against my will.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve bored you going on and on about Safe Passage. I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” I’m genuinely surprised to see that it’s nearly eleven.
“I’ve enjoyed every minute. I like hearing what you’re passionate about.”
How does he do that? Make every word sound devilishly delicious? He makes it seem as though everything that passes between us, no matter how innocuous, is intimate.
“Maybe next time you can tell me what you’re passionate about.”
“I’d be happy to.”
There’s a protracted pause during which my nerves begin to jangle. “Well, I suppose I’d better get to bed. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m sure you’re tired,” he adds. But he makes no move to get up. He just watches me with those disturbingly fluid eyes.
“Can I help clean up?” I offer.
“No, I’ve got it.” He turns his head just enough to aim his next words over his shoulder. “Do you hear that, Mom?”
“I heard you, Mr. Bossy Pants,” comes Stella’s voice from the kitchen, a voice that sounds less than robust.
“I’ll get it. There’s a greater likelihood of her letting me clean up if you aren’t in there. I’d have to wrestle her to the ground to get her to go to bed if you tried to help. And then she’d try to ground me like I’m fifteen rather than twenty-seven. You see how this could get out of hand, right?”
I smile. I can’t imagine anyone giving this strong, charismatic man a hard time. Of course, he obviously has a soft spot for his mother, which I find incredibly endearing. Their dynamic makes me happy and a little envious. My relationship with my own mother leaves a lot to be desired.
I push thoughts of my family’s shortcomings from my mind as I lay my napkin neatly on the table. “Well, far be it from me to get anyone in trouble.”
Tag stands as well. “Oh, I think I’m already in trouble.” His lopsided grin makes my bones melty.
“Are you always like this?”
“Always.”
“Good to know,” I say, hating that I’m hesitant to step away from the table. But I do. Because I must. “Well, thank you. For a wonderful meal and stimulating conversation.”
He nods once. “Consider me at your service any time you need stimulating.”
A laugh churns in my chest even as my cheeks flame, thinking that Stella might still be able to hear.
Walk away, Weatherly. Just walk away. Before you can’t.
“Don’t worry,” Tag says, leaning toward me as I start to move past him. “She’s not in the kitchen anymore.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard the boards in the hallway creak when she left.”
“Another power of yours, super hearing?”
“I have a lot of super powers.”
“Such as?”
“You’ll see,” he says enigmatically. His eyes drop to my lips for a few seconds, making them feel throbbing and full. But then they snap back to mine and he leans away. “Goodnight, Weatherly. I hope you sleep well.”
I draw in a deep, calming breath. “You, too, Tag. And thank you again.”
“My pleasure.”
I turn and walk away, but I can’t seem to leave him behind. I feel his eyes on me as I go, burning through my clothes as though I’m not wearing any at all.
—
As I lie in bed, I wish I’d just taken the lead and kissed Tag. I wanted it. He wanted it. Neither of us did it. I know why I didn’t do it, but why didn’t he? Even after I’ve brushed my teeth and washed off my makeup, that one question still chases itself through my head. Why?
But for the chaos of my thoughts, it’s absolutely silent in my room. That’s why the knock, though soft, brings me bolting upright in my bed.
My heart is thundering so hard, my blood vibrates with each beat. “Yes?” I call out.
The door eases open with a long moan, one that is echoed within me when I see Tag appear. He takes one step inside, half his body bathed in the white shine of the moonlight slanting through the windows. “Can I come in?” he asks, his voice as mystical as midnight itself.
“Yes.”
He slips through the opening, not bothering to close the door behind him. That’s why I’m both at ease and slightly disappointed with his presence here. He won’t be staying. He won’t be stripping off my nightie and covering my body with wet kisses.
For some reason, that annoys me. He professes to want me, to be interested in me and intrigued by me, and yet . . . he hasn’t even tried to kiss me. Why?