Page 58 of Out of the Shadow

We arrive at the office and King pulls into the parking lot. “It’s dark, let me walk you inside.”

This works. I can invite him up to my apartment and we can have a drink. And more. Not sex yet, as I haven’t had enough time to wrap my mind around the whole no-strings idea. We can fool around, though. Yes. Good first step. Testing the waters, so to speak.

When we get to the front door, he uses his key to open it. I’m hyperaware of his heat next to me—the muscular bulk of his arm. I precede him into the lobby and spin around as the door closes. “Thanks, King,” I gush out. “Today was great, but I’m not quite ready for the night to end.” There. That’s direct enough.

He pockets his keys. “Oh? Would you like to go for a walk on the beach?”

That sounds too romantic. I shake my head. “No. How about we go upstairs for a nightcap?” Yeah. A nightcap and some fun. Perfect.

“Upstairs?”

Why is he being so obtuse? “To my apartment,” I clarify and start walking toward the back. “It’s just my apartment, nothing too special.” Gosh, that sounded lame. “But I do have bourbon.” There. Much better to entice him with “his” drink. I got a pretty good bottle as a Grand Opening gift from one of my cousins and never opened it.

He winks at me. “You had me at bourbon.”

“Great.” I take the stairs, butterflies starting to flit around in my stomach. Stupid butterflies. They need to learn the meaning of casual.I open my apartment door and enter, watching as King crosses the threshold for the first time.

I toss my keys on the peninsula, miss, and have to crouch to pick them up. I’m blushing by the time I open the liquor cabinet. Pulling out the bottle, I hold it up. “Is Jim Beam okay?”

He smiles. “Sure. But I’ll have to introduce you to Pappy in the near future.”

Pappy who? Not really caring what I drink, I pour both of us some of the amber liquid and hand him a glass. Forcing myself to look directly into his eyes—which match the color of the drink—I screw up my courage and say, “To continuing our night.”

King holds his glass in the air for a couple of seconds, then smiles the way I like with the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “I like the sound of that.” He brings his glass to mine and they clink.

The sound causes electricity to zip through my veins. I haven’t let this side of myself come out for a decade and now that I’ve given my libido permission to play—without strings, of course—I’m oddly excited. Liberated. I can do this!

We both take a sip of our drinks. God. That’s awful stuff. How can he drink it? I place my glass down on the peninsula and rub my hands together, noting they’re not clammy at all. Good sign.

King puts his glass down next to mine and looks around. “It’s nice up here. Cozy.”

“Thanks.” I force my gaze away from him and survey my apartment as if for the first time. The small living room has all the basics. A loveseat and two chairs with an oversized ottoman serving as a coffee table, facing a television hung above a short bookcase. The TV was Dante’s, the furniture from a thrift store. My kitchen is small but functional. Floral curtains hang on the three windows encircling the area.

Instead of walking toward me, King turns and heads over to the wall where an original painting of the beach in Aroostook hangs. Dante and I purchased it from a small shop in town on our honeymoon after spending every day there. The waves have always grounded me.

“Is this the beach we went to?”

I nod. “It is.” I don’t share its history. We’re not here to become better friends. Well, not in that sense.

King takes a step to his right and my breathing picks up. He’s standing in front of our wedding photo. “You look beautiful here. And that’s Dante, I presume?”

“Yes,” I croak. Maybe we should’ve gone to his place?

He nods several times. After a second—minute—hour—passes, he walks over to the bookcase and picks up some of my favorite romance novels, and my breathing returns to normal. We’re back to safer territory, although I’m not sure what he’s waiting for. Wasn’t my invitation clear enough. Holding up an old book, the first one I purchased forever ago, which I don’t have the heart to discard even if Fabio is on the cover, he snorts. I shrug. After replacing it, he walks over to the window to check out my view. Of downtown. And if you stand just the right way, you can see the ocean, sort of like the first place we showed Abbey.

“You can see all of Main Street from here.” He lets the curtain flutter back into place. “Cool.”

“Thanks. I like it, even though it’s small. I’m not up here too much, anyway.”

Finished with his grand tour, King returns to stand next to me. “It suits you.”

Does it?

Do I care? We’re not up here to chit-chat. Juliana’s words echoing in my mind, I screw up my courage and step into his personal space. I can do this. Smiling up at him, I run my nails up his arm, fascinated to see the fine hairs rise in the wake of my caress.

“Angie?”

Focused on where our bodies meet, I reply, “Yes?”

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