Page 61 of Gambler's Conceit
I chuckle. “Have you traveled much? I plan on going to Europe some day. Just going from country to country like a nomad for a little while.”
He’s gone pale, and he stops even pretending to poke at the ice cream. “I’ve traveled a little, yeah. I planned to keep traveling, but…” He makes a face. “You know what happened there.”
“Where were you headed?” I ask, my heart thundering dangerously loudly in my chest as I push for information I’m not sure he’s willing to give.
Seven shrugs. “Anywhere else.”
“I guess if you’d stayed on the highway instead of taking the exit to Calamity, you would have ended up in California eventually,” I say. “The beaches are nice there. You ever try surfing?”
He shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “Have you?”
I’m not sure if he’s trying to deflect or simply find out more about me, but I start telling him about the one and only time I tried surfing, all because Connie had needled me until I’d given in. He relaxes little by little, and I decide it’s best not to push him too much more.
If he’s not from New Bristol, it was somewhere close.
I finish the ice cream mostly by myself, but I don’t comment on his disinterest in the treat. I’m yawning by the time I throw the bowl away, though, and the idea of collapsing in bed sounds more and more appealing.
“C’mon,” I tell him. “It’s been a long night. Let’s head back to Caleb’s.”
Seven nods, and he’s quiet the whole elevator ride up. It isn’t until he gets inside and realizes all the lights are off that he says, “I guess Caleb went to bed early.” He takes my hand, tugging me in the direction of his bedroom. “Come tuck me in.”
“Sure,” I say. Something’s nagging at me, something I can’t put my finger on.
It isn’t until he’s pulling me toward the bed that I realize what he has in mind.
Sex.
I should be interested; hell, Iaminterested. But I’m exhausted after a long day, and I can’t imagine he’s feeling much more awake.
And yeah, maybe I want to shower a few more times before I touch Seven with the same hands that just murdered a man.
“We don’t have to do anything,” I tell him, then add more slowly, “You don’t have to feel obligated to do anything.”
For some reason, that seems to set him on edge. “You earned it, remember?”
“No, I earned a date,” I correct him as gently as possible. “Look. I want to, but I’m tired, and I know you are too. So let’s take a rain check on that.” I lean in to kiss him, but he pulls away like I just tried to slap him.
“What? No. You want it.”
I don’t miss that he doesn’t sayhewants it. I might have the reputation of being a blockhead bruiser, but I’m not stupid. “Right now, I want to get to bed. I have to be up at six, and I still have to drive home.”
I could stay at the hotel, but I’m finding that I really want my own bed right now.
“So, rain check?” I prompt.
“Sure,” he says, pulling away from me.
He might as well have just told me to fuck off, and I reel at the venom in that single word. “All right. I hope you had fun?”
“Yeah.”
I wait for him to say something else, but when he doesn’t, I clear my throat. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Mhm,” he says. “See you.”
It’s a clear dismissal, and I sigh, running my hand through my hair before nodding and turning. “Good night, Seven.”
He doesn’t bother to respond as I let myself out of his room.