Page 23 of The Shadows We Keep

“Okay, I should still be able to make it then.” Her agreement urges me forward, slipping my fingers under the strap of her bag and pulling its weight off her.

“Allow me.” My freehand slides to her lower back, ushering her forward toward the restaurant.

We’re seated at a small table in the back corner. The hostess drops the laminated menus before taking our drink order.

“So, big plans tonight?” I didn’t miss her comment earlier.

“Not really, just a couple of friends getting together for a band over at Gypsy’s.”

“Oh? Who’s playing? I haven’t been over there in a while. Tell John the bartender you’re a friend of mine. He’ll take care of you tonight.”

Curiosity sparks in her eyes.

“He’ll just know who I’m talking about? There has to be a handful of Harkins in the city that go there.” She laughs, and the lightness of it inflates my mood.

“I guess you’ll just have to see. So, is that your scene? Underground rock music?”

Her nose wrinkles. “Scene? No. Do I like live music, yeah. I’m just not picky about the genre. I’m as likely to go see rock as I am to find some new folk band.”

“Ahh, a music connoisseur, then?” I tease.

Her eyes narrow at the friendly jest. “Definitely not.” She finally cracks a smile and laughs. “I like live music. The inconsistencies of the feedback, the truth of the singer’s voice, nothing marring it like you get with streaming.”

“A purest. Now that I can respect.” I finish with a wink. A sweet blush creeps slowly across her chest and up onto her cheeks.

I wonder where else that lovely color lies.

The food is quick and delicious. That’s one thing I was happy to not have to give up when I moved from California. There are just as many hole-in-the-wall places as there are fancy restaurants. You’re never lacking options here.

My phone pings, and pulls my attention away from the conversation. I ignore the nuisance quickly, but not before Keira pushes out of her seat, the chair scratching against the linoleum flooring.

“Shit, I lost track of time. I really need to go,” she says, while digging through that ridiculously oversized bag when a wallet pulls free.

“It’s on me.” I drop a couple of bills to the table and swipe the wallet from her hands, plopping it back into her bag. “Let me walk you out and hail you a cab.”

Her big golden eyes stare up at me.

“Thank you.” Her chin tips ever so slightly.

“You know what? Maybe I’ll just walk. It’s really not that far.” She halts just outside the door and turns toward me.

“It’s probably best if you take a cab. You can never be too safe out here,” I remind her. If James wasn’t off tonight, she’d be using his services.

“Are you busy?” She worries that bottom lip, pressing it tightly against her white teeth. I’m catching on to her nervous tell.

“In general, sweetheart, or now?” If she really wants to know, she’ll have to be a bit more specific. Her slender fingers fidget with the watch on her wrist, twisting it back and forth.

“Uh, now. I was wondering if you wanted to come to the show with me. It’s casual; my friends won’t care. And you could say hi to that bartender friend of yours,” she blathers on.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got a work thing I have to get to.”

Her eyes fall to the ground and her shoulders slump. She projects her emotions so clearly without even noticing.

My finger skims along her chin before nudging it upward gently for our eyes to meet. “Another time,” I promise. “Music with you sounds way better than the reports I’ve got to get finished sitting on my desk back at my place.”

She hits me with another small chin nod. Always so agreeable, but it’s met with a strain I’m familiar with.

A honk pulls us apart.

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