Page 18 of Captured Heart

“Is that a compliment?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

He steps in front of me, walking backward with an ease that almost makes me envious. “On whether or not you’re going to overthink it.”

I purse my lips, suppressing a smile. “Touché.”

He faces forward, and we fall into silence again. He’s not the kind of person who talks just to fill the quiet, but oddly enough, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It’s weird, but when he does speak, his words seem carefully chosen and deliberate. It’s intriguing. And, honestly, a little frustrating.

“Alright, mystery man, I have a few questions for you.”

He must have been anticipating that because he doesn’t hesitate. “Shoot.”

“Are you always this cryptic, or is it just with me?”

“I’m not cryptic. You’re just not asking the right questions.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Fine.” I stop walking and turn to face him, planting my hands on my hips. “What’s your favorite color?”

His brows lift slightly, as if the question wasn’t the kind of question he was expecting. “Blue.”

“Favorite place?”

“No favorite.” He nudges me with his elbow, and we start walking down the path again. “Just being out in the open is good enough for me.”

“Interesting. Favorite movie?”

“No Country for Old Men. It’s my favorite book too, if that’s what you were gonna ask next.”

“It was. Favorite sound?”

“Again, no favorite, but...” He sighs, thinking about it before he answers. “I guess I used to enjoy listening to the sound of rain.”

“Used to? What do you like listening to now?”

“Lately? I’ve been hearing this biochemist ramble about cancer inhibitors. It’s oddly...notterrible.”

He’s not flirting, right? That couldn’t possibly be construed as flirting. It was too blunt, too direct. No softness to his tone. No tenderness in his voice. It was a cold, hard statement. I don’t know what to do with it, so I just continue as normal.

“Favorite food?”

“Anything homemade. Now, enough about me. Tell me more about you.”

“Like what?” I shrug. “I’m pretty boring. There’s not much to me. What do you want to know?”

“Well...what’s your backup plan if this biochemistry thing doesn’t work out?”

“It will work out,” I reply matter-of-factly, “because I work too hard to fail. But if I had to choose a plan B...” I leave the sentence hanging as I think about it. “I’d probably choose the same path as you and go into comedy.”

“Really? You’re funny? You hide it so well behind your rigid, no-nonsense exterior.”

I give him another death glare. “I’m hilarious. Beneath this sensible cardigan...”

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