Page 11 of Burning Caine

“Would you like your check?” asked the server.

“I’m heading to the bar for a drink. Send it over there.” I needed a glass of wine.

Put on the public smile, nod to the people as I walked by, and breathe. One of these days, I would find a woman who cared about more than my surface. Who understood me and cared about who I was. Victoria Meyers was not that woman.

There were two empty high-backed stools at the bar, next to each other. On the left, beside a large man in a tweed jacket. On the right, beside a woman in a cerulean one-shoulder blouse. After Victoria, the tweed jacket felt like the right choice, but his girth took up a portion of the spare stool, so I chose the blouse.

Nice shoulder. Lean, muscular arm, but still feminine. Long caramel-colored hair over her left shoulder. Head bowed. This was a person who needed a laugh. Or a hug. Perhaps cheering her up would make me feel better.

I placed my hands on the back of the bar stool and leaned forward to get her attention. “Is this seat taken?”

She looked over absently, face toward the bar. “No.” Her voice was restrained, as though masking anger, not sadness. Perhaps irritation. Her jaw clenched, highlighting a remarkable cheekbone.

I took the seat and ordered my wine from the bartender. The woman stared at a plate of bruschetta, barely touched, holding the foot of her wine glass. She rubbed a hand over her face, shielding it from me, which raised my curiosity.

“You look like your evening has gone about as well as mine has.” I leaned an elbow on the bar, propping my head up.

She stiffened and sank deeper into her hand. “Worse, trust me.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No.”

I evaluated the length of her. Tall for a woman, with a physique half-way between athlete and goddess. With an aura which said to leave her alone. Probably ‘the fuck’ alone. All the same, I dove in. “You know, I heard a rumor.”

Silence.

“About the butter.”

Silence, but her eyes flicked in my direction behind her splayed fingers.

“I shouldn’t be spreading it.”

Her shoulder shook with quiet laughter, but the hand remained in place.

I was feeling lighter already. “What did the fish say when it swam into the wall?”

Her hand dragged down to her chin and she looked at me askance, pretending to frown. My heart skipped. Her eyes were the palest shade of blue-green, like the Aegean Sea. LikeLost Beneath the Stars. Like the officer from Bobby’s house? Marone! Tall. Athletic. Barely looking at me as she spoke. What were the odds I would see her twice in two days?

And why was she not saying something about it? Surely I was not that forgettable? Or perhaps she just met a great number of people.

As I paused, she raised an eyebrow. Her full lips curved up ever so slightly, like she was trying to keep her smile suppressed.

“I don’t know, what did it say?”

“Dam.”

She laughed and the hand went up again, covering her mouth and cheek, but leaving the eyes so I could lose myself in them. “You tell really bad jokes.”

“Sì, I do.”

Her eyes fell back to the plate, her laughter dying. “My date had already eaten and then he insulted me.” She sighed. “What was so bad about your evening?”

“My date tried to seduce me.”

She laughed again, both hands covering her face. It was musical, enchanting, and all I wanted to do was spend all night making her laugh. She revealed her striking eyes again, covering the cheek. “What man complains about that?”

I shrugged, holding my growing smile to a smirk. “Long story.”