Page 11 of One Chance to Stay
His hand lingered with enough pressure that I couldn’t withdraw. I couldn’t stop thinking about the coarse fingers scratching my skin. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Seamus took pleasure in misdirecting and making a situation uncomfortable. Hell, Ididn’tknow better. Uncomfortable interactions could be his default setting.
I thought of the folded clothes. I knew a defense mechanism when I saw one.
“Are you going to open it?” I asked.
His eyes had focused on our hands. He finally withdrew, sliding the record off the counter. He held it up, eyes switching between it and me. I detected the suspicion. We were studyingone another. What I would give to hear his thoughts at this moment.
“Gladys,” he huffed.
She probably had a signature wrapping paper or a unique way she attached the bow. I bet it reached legendary status in Firefly, and everybody sought her out to wrap their presents each Christmas.
He tore at the paper, dragging it out in a long, slow rip. What would take a child seconds, Seamus spent nearly a minute. Once the paper had fallen, he spun it about, looking at the front. His eyes went wide. The first break in that steely armor.
“Ellington,” he mumbled, as if it explained everything.
“Who?”
“Son.” His eyes narrowed as he glared. “Duke Ellington is one of the greatest jazz composers.” Seamus let out a scoff to hide the smile under his beard. “Look forward to listening to this.”
I held my breath, trying to convince myself I had done a good deed. I could walk away, satisfied that I had paid back this secret softy. For a split second, I had seen his smile. Itshouldbe enough. Wiggling through a crack in his armor, I wasn’t done. Something about him drove me forward, and I risked making a fool of myself.
“Just tell me when I should come over.”
The words left my mouth before I realized what I had said. Seamus wasn’t going to let down his defenses. I’d have to scale the wall if I wanted to see the man behind the mask. While I should spend my time in Firefly asking myself difficult questions, I focused on Seamus. I’d need to add that to the list of conversations I needed to have with myself.
“You’re a strange man,” he said.
“Or am I charming to a point of irritation?”
He scoffed. Did I detect the hint of a smile? “I said what I said.”
“Are you going to introduce me to Duke or not?”
I put the ball in his court. It’d have been easy to charge in like a storm and force my way in his door. After threats of shooting me, I bet he’d let me stay. No, I needed him to say the words, otherwise I’d have to write him off as a lost cause.
“I’m closing tonight.”
I frowned at the statement. He had a built-in excuse and brushed off the offer. Something about this rejection stung. I’d file it away amongst the other weird, obsessive behaviors that continued surfacing since I arrived.
Seamus fixated on the record. I imagined he already had a spot waiting for it amongst his collection. He’d sit on the couch and close his eyes, sipping his whiskey as he listened. I could see the scene in my head, but I wanted to know what crossed his mind as he lost himself?—
“Tomorrow. Seven.”
“What?”
“Do I need to write an invitation? Is that what you kids do these days?”
“Kids?” I almost laughed. “You’re not that much—” I bit back my words. With the salt showing through his beard, Seamus must have had twenty years on me. He could have been fighting in a war while I learned to use the potty. Best not to insult the man.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
“You owe me a bottle of whiskey.”
I shot him a grin. “Seamus, are you asking me over for drinks?”
He grumbled.
“Aww. You’re such a gentleman.” I gave a slight bow. “I’m sure I can find a bottle to your liking.” He didn’t know my historywith liquor. I could match any person or situation to the perfect cocktail. If it got a rise out of him, I’d gladly flex my gifts.
