Page 20 of Snake

Candy noticed him first and sent him a toothy smile. “Hey, Cox!”

He returned a nod.

Autumn looked over, and their eyes met. For only a second, her own gleaming, lighthearted smile held. Then the transition, from laughing with the ladies to registering that her guard was back on the job, completed, and her expression blanked.

He didn’t like the weird twist he felt in his gut as he saw that downward shift in her mood. Fucking guilt. Somewhere along the line he’d started feeling sorry for her. When? And why? Because she was pretty? That was stupid.

She said something to Adrienne, who nodded and took a cloud of pink paper from her. Then, after she smoothed her ponytail and straightened her jacket, she strode toward him.

Cox stood where he was until she was close enough to ask in a normal voice, “Am I not allowed to help anymore? Are you afraid I’m going to undercut the Horde on paper flowers?”

“You can help more if you want.”

“But now you’re going to stand here and scowl while I do?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job tonight.”

“No, apparently babysitting me is your job tonight. The scowl you throw in for free.”

The woman was quick on her verbal feet, he’d give her that. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

She gave him a new look, curious and surprised.

“What?” he asked, unsettled by something in her eyes. Like he’d given something important away.

“You have a nice laugh.” Her voice was quiet as a secret.

“What?”

Again, that look. “You just laughed. I complimented you on it. No double meaning, just a compliment. I promise you, Cox, I am not the wicked witch you think I am.”

He didn’t remember laughing.

It wasn’t that he never laughed. In certain situations—drunk with his Horde brothers, mainly—he laughed often enough. If he got drunk enough, he could get to a place where he had a lot to say. But otherwise he kept all emotional shit bottled up in public. And mostly in private, too. He knew a lot of men who tried to keep a lid on certain emotions, those they considered weak or unmanly. But Cox knew all emotions were weakness. If you gave the good ones an invitation, the bad ones slipped in behind them and tore everything apart.

“If you wanna make them paper flowers, go on ‘head.” He heard his father in his voice again and cleared his throat.

Autumn looked over to the table where the women were still making ... whatever that was. Then she turned back to him. “Actually, I want a drink. I’m going to head to that bar—No Place.”

With a wave to the ladies, she turned and started walking away, like she was going to stroll from the park all the way there in the dark. The girl who hadn’t wanted to walk from the inn.

He caught up to her in a couple long strides. “No Place can get pretty rough. The wine bar’s closer, too. More your speed.”

“You don’t have any idea what my speed is.” Stopping suddenly, she put her hands on her hips and looked up at him. They were at the edge of the park, about to turn onto Main Street. “What would you say my drink is?”

“No idea.”

“Take a guess.”

He hated stupid games like this; he didn’t give a shit what her drink was. But he’d started this, so he sighed and gave her an answer. “You’re probably into wine. Or something with juice in it.”

“Unless I am lounging on a beach in a bikini, I do not drink anything with juice in it. Though yes, I drink wine, I’m not ‘into’ wine. My preferred drink is Jameson, on the rocks. I also like Guinness, or any quality stout.”

The flash of image his mind conjured of Autumn Rooney in a bikini slowed his receptors down a bit, and he needed an extra second to hear the rest of her words. Once he had them, he focused there and got the other shit out of his head. “A redhead named Rooney likes Irish whiskey and Irish beer. You a big fan of St. Pat’s, too?”

She started walking, and he joined her. “Not really a fan of a holiday where great crowds of men get blind drunk whether they’re Irish or not. But my father is second generation, and he has ties to his family there. He’s proud of his roots.”

“You take after him, I guess.”

---