There was a strange glee in her voice. “I heard you were caught in the fire.”
I felt myself tense. I nodded, I didn’t want to talk about it. I remained quiet and hoped she got the hint. She didn’t.
“I mean, shit, how scary, but was it kind of exciting. It would have to be a bit exciting, wouldn’t it? Running through the forest to escape the flames. You must have felt like you were in some movie.”
A flare of anger simmered through my veins. I glanced up. Jefferson had sat down and was pretending not to listen. Ethan was looking across, frowning.
“People were killed, including two young children. Hardly exciting,” I clipped out.
“Oh right, yes of course, I mean, it’s tragic. Devastating.” She paused and drew in a big breath. “But what was it like, you know, feeling the flames right behind you?” Her eyes were shining with the prospect of the horrific details.
I gritted my teeth. “Hot.” I took a sip of whiskey and twisted away from her.
“And I heard.” She leaned in close, her breath reeking of champagne. “You’re living with Ethan?” She smiled like she’d just revealed a massive secret.
“Housemates,” I said, “and yes.” Christ. I took another sip. My head felt light and fuzzy.
“Oh, you aren’t dating?” And now she seemed hopeful. She didn’t wait for me to answer as she went on, “So, is he single, or seeing anyone, or?—?”
“He’s down the end of the bar.” I jerked my head in his direction. “Why don’t you ask him.”
“Right, yes.” She ran a hand over her hair to neaten it. “I might go and say hi.”
She said goodbye almost absently and headed in his direction. I looked up, he whispered something in the girl’s ear, stood up, grabbed her hand and led her toward the door.
Sam stopped abruptly and watched them walk out the door and disappear into the darkness. I couldn’t see her face, but somehow I knew she’d be pouting.
I took another mouthful of whiskey. I felt Jefferson looking at me. I stared straight ahead and pretended not to be aware.
“It’s single malt, vintage, I assume it’s to your taste?” Jefferson asked.
Well, hello, and thank you movie producers. “It is.”
He indicated with his finger for another two drinks to be poured.
The barmaid poured them, sliding one to me, one to Jefferson. He was a handsome man, with dark hair, warm brown eyes, a chiseled jaw and tanned skin.
“I’m Brian,” he introduced himself.
“I know who you are.” I answered, which came out blunter than I intended, but not as rude asI think you murdered my friends. “I’m Amy.” I deliberately brightened my tone.
He nodded. “I know who you are.” Of course he knew. Church Heights, the place where everyone knows everyone. We locked eyes and both smiled. “It’s hard not to notice when a beautiful girl comes to a place like this,” he added.
I felt my cheeks color. I dropped my eyes and struggled to find a response. It was one thing to act cool and captivating, but entirely another to have to speak. Shit. I rummaged around for something half intriguing to say, a sentence, a word, a fucking syllable. I took a sip of whiskey and studied the caramel liquid. I could feel him watching me, waiting for a response.
“There’s something alluring about the smooth taste of maturity isn’t there.”
The words flew from my mouth before I could self-regulate them. I groaned silently into the back of my throat. They were douchebag, A-grade corny. But for some bizarre reason, unfathomable to the sound of mind, they appeared to work.
Jefferson looked surprised for a brief second and then he smiled. It was a confident, ‘I got this in the bag’ kind of smile.
Ladies and gentlemen, I applauded myself,and the Oscar goes to . . .
“Are you enjoying the night?” he asked.
“Yes.” I lied. “It’s quite the shin-dig you have here.”
“Shin-dig. That’s an interesting term from a lady so young.” He appeared amused. I scanned his face, looking for any hint he might be a killer or have a hidden dark side. I couldn’t findit. Not only couldn’t I find it, but he had a charisma that was appealing.
