Page 9 of Meet Me In The Dark

“Guess we are.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Micah sipping his bourbon, Kara a glass of red wine—Malbec, he knew. She was a one-wine-woman. Micah had begun believing that Kara might also be a one-man woman, and that Conor was that man, except here she was, sitting with him instead.

“Why the note? Why not come straight over here?” he asked, curious.

“You’re lucky you got the note you did. I was going to writedo you find me attractiveand make you circle yes, no, or maybe, but that felt too middle school, even for me,” Kara said, and although she attempted to sound casual, it was obvious she felt anything but.

Micah felt the corners of his mouth lift. “What do you think I would’ve circled?”

Kara grinned. “‘Maybe.’ You’re tricky like that.”

The laughter rolled out of him. “Tricky?”

She shrugged again, but this time there was no uncertainty in her voice. “Most people are easy to read. Their mannerisms, their eyes, the tone of their voice. You aren’t. Not exactly poker faced, but like there’s a whole iceberg beneath what you say and how you listen. I like that, I think, even if I don’t think I can trust you.”

Micah’s whole body tensed back up. For her to just put that out there—no insinuations, no beating around the bush—was brave as hell, but also a little terrifying. He could placate her, of course, make her think she could trust him, but he preferred the honesty between them. How often could he be honest, even if it was only one layer of honesty covering a core of deceit?

“Good,” he finally said. “You shouldn’t trust me.”

Kara nodded. “Okay. Let’s order. I’m starving.”

As she turned to the menu, he found himself saying, “I bet I can guess what your favorite flower is…”

The walk back to her rental was tense and silent, fraught with sexual tension and, if he were honest, a little fear. They hadn’t directly discussed the fact that they were about to fuck—the look in Kara’s eyes had been clear enough.

She’d suggested they go back to his hotel room, but Micah had quickly countered that he’d been wanting to see the Marigny. Although Micah was meticulous about keeping any telling information locked and hidden away, hecouldn’t risk that Kara would surprise him again. If she realized he was stalking her, she’d no longer be torn on whether it was sexy; she’d go straight to the police. Micah would be fine, of course, but it would create a mess he didn’t need, especially when Conor found out he’d done the opposite of what he’d promised.

She’d relented easily, but she hadn’t said a word to him in the last twenty minutes. Since it was Christmas Eve, Frenchmen Street was also silent—all the jazz and funk musicians home with their families for the night, or booked up at private parties. Without the music and crowds, the neighborhood felt ghostly and a little magical. Micah glanced at Kara a few times to see if she noticed the weirdness, but her shoulders were stiff and she seemed lost in her own head.

Was this what she’d been like with Conor that night when they’d made the much shorter walk from the bar to her hotel on Coronado? Distant? Preoccupied? Ambivalent?

Fucking Conor. Micah didn’t want to think about him at all. Micah doubled his pace, closing the distance between them and placed a hand on her back. She startled.

“Kara…”

“I swear to god, if the next words out of your mouth are ‘you don’t have to do this,’ I’ll fucking stab you,” she told him, whipping around to face him.

Micah chuckled, relieved to at least get a rise out of her, to have her present with him.

“I wasn’t going to say that. You’re a grown woman; you make your own choices. I just want to be one of them.”

She stepped away from him and into the glow of the streetlamp. It bathed her in gold, almost like a fantasy. His throat burned. He hadn’t meant to tell her something so revealing.

But then she said, “I haven’t always been proud of my choices. I’ve done a lot I regret, and then a lot to punish myself for those regrets, and then I turn around and regret those, too.” She shook her head at herself. “I never say shit like this out loud, I don’t know why I’m telling you, but I just… you should know, Micah—regardless of what happens after this, sending you that drink tonight will end up in thethings Kara Blum did rightcategory.” She shared a small, tremulous smile with him, lit by the streetlamp behind her.

Kara reached out her hand to him. When he took it, wrapping her small, soft hand in his, something settled in his chest. Like she was making a promise and he was accepting it.

“Just don’t regret choosing me, okay?” she asked, and the vulnerability in it made him hate himself. A better man would tell her the truth. A better man wouldn’t take advantage.

She needed a better man.

She needed a keeper.

He wasn’t a better man, but he still wanted to be the one to keep her.

It wasn’t because she was reckless and lost. Micah didn’t have a savior boner for lost women. It was the addictive mix of confidence and vulnerability that made him feel like the latter was something precious he had to protect. And, mostly, it was the way she’d seen through him—seenhim—and liked what she’d seen. No wonder Conor felt this way about her.

“No one could regret you, Kara,” he told her. It sounded like he was making a promise back, and he hated himself for it. None of this fit his plan, and for once he didn’t care. He’d figure out a way to deal with the wreckage later.

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