Page 56 of Lone Star

In retrospect, she should have expected the knock on her door.

Should also have expected that, once she’d hauled herself up to answer it, she’d find Albie waiting on the other side.

The sight of him startled her, though. A little zing of adrenaline went through her, and her sleepiness evaporated.

He stood with both feet planted firmly in the hall, not so much as leaning in toward her, his hands linked in front of him. His expression seemed curious, cautious; mostly closed-off, that mask he and his siblings all wore – though Albie’s was much politer and friendlier than, say, Fox’s, for example.

He searched her face, and his brows lifted a fraction. “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

Had she reacted that way? She was too exhausted to control her face properly; she tried to smooth it. Folded her arms, and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “No. Just. I thought you were Eden.”

A wry smile tugged at his mouth. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, I’m not disappointed.” She said it too quick, she thought, but it earned her a true smile.

“I won’t keep you up,” he said, “you look knackered.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds like it’s not a compliment.”

“You look sleepy,” he amended, chuckling. “I should let you get to bed. But I wanted to make sure you were okay first.”

A part of her she wasn’t going to grace with any kind of mushy labels found his sentiment very sweet. That he was worried; that he was checking on her. Major points in the win column for Mr. Albert Cross.

“I’m not that sleepy,” she lied. “Just sore from all the driving.”

He lifted his brows, doubtful.

“Beats riding a bike all that way.”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

This is stupid, she thought, and opened the door all the way, even though her stomach clenched with sudden nerves. “You wanna come in?” she asked.

His brows went higher, surprise plain on his face. “Yeah.” He leaned forward, then hesitated.

Jesus Christ, she thought.

But he said, “Night cap?”

It was late, and she needed to be up early; alcohol couldn’t get them through all their awkwardness – eventually they’d have to learn how to be themselves around each other without any help, if this was ever going to work. But she said, “Sure.”

“Be right back.” He wasn’t even gone long enough for her to have second thoughts, only for her to appreciate the view of him walking away. Then he was back, bottle of Jack Daniel’s in-hand. “This do?”

“Definitely.”

There was nowhere to sit besides the bed, so they sat on the end of it, leaving a gap; room for someone else to have sat between them. Axelle didn’t remember shutting the door, but when she glanced up at it, it was closed. She didn’t feel panicked about that, though.

Albie wasn’tunsafe.

He just left her lungs trembling.

“Shit, I forgot glasses.” He frowned as he twisted off the cap, but had wiped his face smooth – into an expression almost hopeful – when he turned to her, and offered the bottle. “Ladies first. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

In answer, she took the bottle and a big swig. The whiskey burned all the way down; she choked down a cough, and caught a stray drop off her lips with the back of her hand.

It was too soon to feel the effects, but she was blaming the Jack when she said, “Why are we so damn bad at this?”

Another man would have asked for clarification, she thought. Played stupid. But not Albie. He made a considering face as he accepted the bottle back and took a swig of his own – two long swallows, and a deep breath after. “It was different back in London,” he said, brows knitted thoughtfully. He had a good face for thoughtful; it suited him better than cheerful, really. “We were dealing with – all that.” A vague gesture over his shoulder to encompass the craziness of that time. “Worried about our people. We just sort of” – shrug – “fell together. It didn’t take any thought. No effort. But now it’s like…” He trailed off, struggling for the words.

---