Page 5 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
I don’t know Andrew Stone. I know nothing about him, exactly as he intended. But everything I know of the whiskey is echoed in the shape and swell of the man at the end of the bar. He too seems deep and untamed, and definitely mysterious. I can’t speak for his morals but I can speak for his darkness. It is overpowering and enticing, all at the same time.
But I can’t say any of that. So I settle for something less revealing, yet not untruthful.
“It’sexpensive.”
He holds my gaze for longer than is comfortable, then lifts the glass to his mouth. He takes a slow sip then licks his lips as though they’re laced with honey.
I wait for him to lower the glass, then I allow a small breath to squeeze its way out of my lungs.
“Ittastesexpensive.” His focus doesn’t waver but there’s an edge to his tone, like he doesn’t buy that as being the only reason I chose that whiskey.
“It’s on the house,” I say, wondering where on earththose words came from. Andrew Stone is not short of money.
His jaw hardens for a second, then he cracks a knuckle, making me jump.
When the intensity of his stare becomes too much, toohot, I turn away and busy myself by wiping down the already immaculate bar. I feel nervous about talking to him, but he’s a guest—a very important guest—so I have to.
“How are you enjoying your stay, Mr. Stone?”
A few beats of silence pass before he answers. “It’s surprisingly pleasant,” he replies. “And please, call me Andrew.”
I can’t help but smile. “It’s surprisingly pleasant? Were you not expecting to enjoy it?” I sneak a glance at him then quickly look away. How can two mere eyeballs be terrifying and alluring at once?
“I was. I just wasn’t expecting it to be quite so enjoyable.” His words carry a strange kind of weight but I’m keen to keep the conversation as light as I can.
“You haven’t spent much time in the hotel so far. Are you here for a convention?”
I feel his frown from several feet away so I distract myself by polishing the glassware.
“Why would I be at a convention?”
I focus on trying to draw more sparkle from an already glittering champagne flute. “You work in technology, right? Isn’t that what you technology types do?”
In the corner of my eye he rests his forearms on the bar, his gaze feeling even heavier.
“I suppose we do.”
Well, that’s not exactly an answer to my question but I can work with it.
“What kind of technology do you specialize in?”
More knuckles crack.
“I work on the sales and negotiation side of things.” He places his words carefully and lifts his glass again, taking a long sip.
“So what brings you here from Boston?”
His glass lands a little too heavily on the polished wood, drawing my gaze. When I lift my lashes, he’s still looking directly at me as though he’s trying to tunnel beneath my skin. I’ve heard of men who can strip a woman with their eyes, but I’ve never met one in person. Guess I can strike that goal off my list now.
“Business, and…” He runs his tongue along his top teeth as if he’s tasting the words. “…my brother.”
“Fun!” I say cheerily. “It’s good to have that kind of balance, you know? To have family and not just be working the whole time.” I’m conscious I’m rambling but that’s preferable to the brooding, sparce conversation I’ve managed to entice out of him so far.
“I have three sisters,” I say with an eye roll. “Three. Can you imagine? And we’re all pretty close in age too. I came out here to get some space really, but I do miss them all, deeply. Do you see your brother often?”
His silence is filled with so many unspoken words. It’s only when I dart my gaze his way that he actually answers. “I haven’t seen him in ten years.”
Oh. That’s awkward.
