“You can come in, you know?” I said by way of greeting. “You don’t have to lurk out here. We won’t bite.
He squinted. “They don’t know I followed them. I’ll wait… besides, the air feels nice.”
In a handful of seconds he went from crossing his arms to uncrossing them then sliding his hands in his pockets. Fidgeting, I realized. I was right to assume he was on edge.
“You know,” I started, leaning a shoulder toward him. “You’re coming off a little stalkerish, man.”
Those eyes swung back to me, and I could see how he made people squirm with a stare like that. Pensive and unforgiving. Always assessing. I wondered how Clay got along with him so well.
Glowering he said, “I’m not stalking, I’m just?—”
“Following under the cover of darkness?”
“Trailing from a distance,” he corrected.
“The fact doesn't change just because you use pretty words,” I said. “You might want to keep that argument to yourself if someone else questions you about this little… habit.”
Again he looked at me, but this time I was surprised to see his eyes were lighter. And were his lips wobbling in a bit of a smile? I grinned immediately. I could never help it, I liked making people smile and I wouldn’t have thought this guy even had a sense of humor.
He laughed dryly and shook his head. “I should’ve known you were a smartass when I found out you knew Clay. Augustus Harper, huh?”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said easily but looked at him through my own squinted eyes. “But I don’t remember introducing myself.”
His face didn’t give anything away. “Do I look stupid to you?”
“Do you want me to answer that?”
Another crack of humor lit his expression. “You’ve done a good job at hiding, I guess. I wouldn’t have pegged you for an artist, though I guess it’s a quantifiable segue from engineer. But with a name like yours, once you know, you know.”
I bristled. Because it sure sounded like he knew. It made sense considering who he was. It probably only took him hearing my full government name a few times to figure it out.
Observant as ever, he instantly caught onto my discomfort. “Does she know?”
“Not exactly my favorite topic of conversation,” I admitted.
He nodded. “Not my business, I guess.”
“That’s quite the difference from our last meeting,” I said. “Don’t tell me I won you over already?”
“You haven’t done shit,” he scoffed, his proper attitude slipping for the first time. “And the next time I hear you bossing my sister around like that day on the sidewalk, it’ll be the last time you fucking see her, I promise you that. But… she stood up for you. She doesn’t do that often, so. What can I do?”
Was it pathetic that the only thing my brain latched onto was the fact that she’d stood up for me?Me. She was usually standing against me, but with someone else, she stood up for me.
Shit, my chest hurt.
“It’s not like that, you know? That day, I uh. I didn’t know you were her brother. I thought… I guess I thought something else. She’s the bossy one.” I tried to explain.
“I have no desire for any details. Please, spare me,” he said.
Noted.
He tapped his foot, his eyes bouncing into the window of my shop. I scratched my neck. “You know, I think she’s okay in there. Alta was with her. You don’t have to worry so much.”
“I’m not worried,” he clipped.
“You’re fidgeting like a kid who can’t sit still,” I pointed out.
He pressed his lips together. Then, looking around the area again, his eyes lit on the bowl I had set out for the kids earlier in the day. “Is there anything left in that?”
