Page 37 of When the Woods Go Silent

Torrence’s attention on me is intense, and my head spins a little every time our eyes meet across the table.

I’ve already memorized the quirk of his mouth, full lips hooking up on one side as he teases me. I’m mesmerized by his long fingers brushing back those dark waves of hair, sweeping against his high cheekbones in the way I crave to touch him. I imagine the scratch of stubble against my skin, and heat flushes my cheeks.

And the way he fixes me in his gaze. In the glittering light from the chandelier above us, his eyes are amber fire ringed in gold lightning, pinning me to my chair, consuming me where I sit. I can’t get enough of his attention, and I feel myself turning on every tap of charm and flirtation I have.

Something about the energy between us feels combustible, like I could burn and be reborn according to his desires. That scares me a little, but I have to admit it’s also incredibly intoxicating. He has a power around him that draws me in, more so than any guy I’ve ever met.

“Tell me more about theMarket, how you came up with the idea,” Rose says, directing the conversation because all I’m doing is staring. Torrence glances at her, and I can’t help but notice a bit of irritation in the tightening of his jaw. My eyesnarrow as he turns to face her, his gaze definitely cooling as he rakes his eyes over her and then Arlo.

He doesn’t like her, I realize, my heart sinking. Why not? He won’t last long if he can’t accept Rose, no matter what my body wants.

Torrence clasps his hands together on the table, and I’m distracted by how large his fingers are, and the veins twining up his forearms, where his shirt sleeves are rolled back. Ah hell, I’ve already got it bad.

I barely listen as he explains the basics, how they source local fresh produce and create buzz and high demand with socials. It’s nothing I haven’t already observed from the outside, and I have the sense he’s simplifying, leaving out their trade secrets as though we’re competition. He glances back at me, pride lacing his words.

“Goblin Marketis my own idea. We’re in the process of expanding, looking for other locations. But I won’t compromise quality. I just haven’t found anyone I trust with it, yet.”

Arlo snorts but says nothing, and I wonder what exactly is his role in the business - and to Torrence. They call each other brothers. Friends, of course. But they don’t interact at all like Rose and I do. They’re cold with each other, both looking like they wish the other one wasn’t here. And evidently, Arlo isn’t trustworthy to run the business.

“We were thinking of asking you about catering. For our grand opening,” I say, and Rose cuts her eyes to me, a questioning look on her face. Oops. Sometimes I forget to run my ideas by her before I start my research.

Arlo shakes his head before Torrence can answer. “Goblin Marketdoesn’t cater. We like to keep the control right here.”

Torrence gives him a hard look. “I’d consider it. For the right reasons.” Arlo glares down at his plate, but he doesn’t argue.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to think of a good reason,” I say lightly, ready to steer us back away from a topic that is apparently going to be prickly. “So, any chance I could get a tour of this famous kitchen?” I ask, looking at Torrence with a coy tilt of my head. I don’t give a shit about their kitchen, but I’d love to get him in a different room and away from the crutch of my silly double date idea. He’s different in this group setting, and I want more of the banter we had in the woods.

“Sure. You can help me plate the next course,” Torrence says, standing and offering his hand. I relish the way his fingers curl tightly around mine, possessive and strong. Once the black door to the kitchen swings shut behind me, he gives me a smirk. “I wanted to get away from Arlo, too.”

“You guys don’t seem to get along,” I observe carefully, and he shrugs, sliding his eyes down to my mouth, then a little lower.

“I’d rather have you to myself.”

“Is that why you left me on read?” I ask, trying to ignore the thrill in my body and sliding past him to wander the kitchen. I slowly take in the gleaming surfaces, platters of fruits, and baskets of squash and greens. It’s picture perfect, as though ready for a magazine shoot.

“On read?” he repeats, narrowing his eyes at me.

“My phone. I saw when you read the text. But you took forever to reply.” Now I wish I hadn’t brought it up. It sounds more like whining than the teasing I was going for.

“I’m busy. I travel. Service is bad,” he says tersely, and the way he gives so many reasons so quickly makes me think none of them are true. But I let it slide for now, leaning against a counter and fluffing my hair. It always takes me a bit to figure out how to talk to a person, especially if I want them to like me.

“So what else do you do? Besides hike and work.”

“Sometimes when I’m unavailable, it’s because of my mother. She... needs a lot from me.”

My eyebrows raise, and I can tell he’s holding back most of that answer, too. He must have some trust issues, but then, who doesn’t these days? Anyway, it’s amazingly sweet for him to care for his mother.

“Both of my parents are dead. Rose is my only family,” I blurt out, uncertain why I even said it. “But it’s fine. I’m used to it,” I add in a rush, before he can offer sympathy or pity. I hate that.

“I have a lot of extended family, but my mother is the only one I’m close to. It’s complicated. Don’t expect to meet them.” Torrence smiles, but it’s hollow, and we both know it isn’t a joke. We’re floundering, losing the easy flirtation that we started with, and I think about how to direct the mood a little better. People always say to be yourself, but that doesn’t account for the way my brain works. Being myself usually means being too weird for the general public.

But flirtation is easy enough, formulaic in a way small talk never has been for me.

“Looks to me like you don’t need any help plating this course,” I say, stepping toward Torrence as he leans against the opposite counter, arms folded over his broad chest. A tray of small plates is ready and waiting behind him on the counter, each filled with a different delicious-looking entree. I step so close that my breasts are just inches from brushing against him. Then I reach around him and swipe my finger through a bright green sauce, ruining its artistic schmear.

That sexy smile returns as he looks down at me, and I swear I can see his pupils dilate as he watches me suck my finger between my lips. I let my eyelids slide closed, humming in approval, and the sound seems to take form between us, connecting our bodies with an electric sort of energy.

“Sounds to me like you didn’t really want a tour,” he answers, one arm sliding behind me and clamping my body against his. I melt into his muscle and height, absolutely loving the feelingof being trapped in his grip. I tilt my head back, and his fingers grasp a few strands of my hair, tugging them playfully.

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