Page 72 of Skeletons in the Closet

The soft brush of his fingers on my thigh made me jump. I dashed a quick glance in Tallus’s direction, but his mischievous smirk made me look away again.

“Relax, Guns. I’m not a threat. Squeeze the ball.”

I ground my teeth but couldn’t relax, not with his hand on me. Not with his long, dainty fingers massaging my upper thigh and edging closer to my groin. They didn’t make contact, but they came close enough to stir my blood. The air in my lungs blistered with a held breath, so I released it carefully. It took a minute, but I calmed down and focused on how good it felt.

“Do you hate it when I touch you?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” I spat, unable to curb my agitation. Hate it? Was he blind? Couldn’t he see what he did to me?

“It was an honest question. You tense every time I get too close. You flinch. Do you hate it?”

“Do I look like I fucking hate it?” Christ, my dick was already pressing uncomfortably against my pants.

Tallus chuckled and withdrew his hand, and I cursed myself six ways from Sunday for my inability to communicate properly.

“I honestly can’t tell with you, Diem.”

I growled quietly in my throat, wishing I had the words to ask him to put his hand back, to explain how his touch set me on fire. Couldn’t he see how undone I was in his presence? How big of a floundering mess I became? Didn’t he realize how out of my league he was?

I squeezed the rubber ball until I threatened its vitality, until my fingers ached.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and the sky and clouds turned to a smear of pastel watercolors. It was beautiful and calming. The roar inside my head quieted. The painful tension I held in my muscles eased. The air moved easier through my lungs.

I lessened my attack on the rubber ball and watched as the sky melted and blended from pale pink to a deeper rose to an aubergine as night encroached. My therapist always preached about finding beauty in the world and ensuring I stopped to enjoy it. The sunset felt like one of those times.

Twice, I glanced at Tallus to see if he was as taken by the scenery. I couldn’t read his face. He seemed locked in thought. Maybe I’d upset him. I should say something. Point out the landscape and talk about how the lake sparkled with the day’s end.

The words sounded stupid in my head, so I didn’t.

The colors slowly faded from the world. Streetlights clicked on, dampening the effect of the sunset.

“Look,” Tallus said, breaking the fragile tranquility I’d found. “I think those people are here for the vigil.” He pointed at a group of men and women walking together toward the waterfront. Their body language was heavy, an encumbrance that spoke of loss and grief.

More people arrived shortly after until a crowd gathered. Olivia showed up, husband and children in tow. I scanned but saw no trace of the bodyguard who’d been following her around all the time. Had she finally ditched him?

About two dozen people had gathered when Sean appeared, accompanied by an elderly couple and his children. The youngest boy rode on the hip of the older gentleman, cuddled against his neck. The woman held hands with the other child. Sean walked alone, several feet behind, hands stuffed in the pockets of a light jacket, chin aimed at the ground.

I sat straighter, nodding toward their small group. “There.”

Tallus looked. “His parents you think?”

“Probably.”

“Come on. It’s dark enough we should be able to blend in.”

“I don’t blend.”

Tallus examined me in the dark cab of the Jeep, a quirk in his lips. “No, you don’t. Come with me anyway.”

I reached for the door handle, but Tallus touched my arm. I tried hard not to react. “Don’t freak out when I get chummy.”

“Chummy?”

“I’m going to touch you. We should act like a couple. Friends of the deceased, here to celebrate her life. Is that okay?”

I considered, then offered a clipped nod.

Tallus reached into the backseat where I’d tossed the trench coat and handed it to me. “Wear this. It hides some of your bulk.”

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