Page 129
Story: Walking the Edge
“If you have to know, it was the moment we discovered a burglar in your house.”
He had cared about her even then? An inner glow filled her like helium. Any minute she would lift off and float away.
* * *
Cath finished explaining the shootout behind the ghosts at the Beauregard-Keyes House and ended her tour. Mitch rolled off the lamppost. She hooked her hand through his I-will-protect-you-from-anything arm, and they followed his brothers.
With the delicious scent of frying beignets in the air, Hal insisted they go for doughnuts, and they walked a block to the coffee stand with the striped awning.
Mitch held her back before she could follow Hal under the covered patio. “Go ahead and order for us,” he called. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
He steered her toward the green space where the café abutted Washington Artillery Park and the levee. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”
“What a coincidence.”
“You want to go first?” He raised that sexy chocolate-dark eyebrow.
Butterflies brushed gossamer wings against her insides. “I don’t mind.”
What a lie. She’d been building up courage to discuss this a few days, always stopping before she could utter a word. She’d been manipulated enough by others to never want to pressure anyone herself, and Mitch’s thoughts might not be going in the same direction as hers.
He lifted both eyebrows now. “How about we not wait for the coffee to go cold?”
“I like iced coffee fine.”
“You like caffeine any which way.” One corner of his mouth twitched.
“It’s not a good night for iced anything.” The cold, more intense this close to the river, crept under the edges of her shawl. “Bea came back to work today.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “How’s she doing?”
Cath let out a long breath. “She’s still taking it easy but I feel terrible she got hurt in the first place.”
“Feeling guilty was supposed to be my hang-up. Don’t you start. I’m glad Bea’s doing okay. You’re lucky to have her.” His dark eyes never strayed from her face.
“She said I could come stay with her until I can find my own place.”
His hands came out of his pockets to prop on his hips. “You don’t like my room?”
Don’t get upset. “It’s your room. You should be able to sleep in your own bed from time to time.”
“I do when you invite me.”
“True.” Cars swished past in the street beside them. Why had she picked such a public place for this discussion? But she hadn’t. Mitch had. “It’s hard to have any privacy with your brothers sleeping right across the hall.”
He frowned. “They close their doors.”
Mitch had lived with a pack of guys too long to understand. “I’m still imposing.”
“Aunt Edi loves having you there. Everyone likes you. Jack told me you and Tiger could stay as long as you wanted.” Mitch glanced over his shoulder toward the tables. “Want me to get him to tell you personally?”
“I believe you.” She reached for his arm, her fingers sliding off the slick nylon and brushing the hair on the back of his hand. “But I hate making you drive me downtown every morning.”
She would miss seeing him every morning, eating the breakfast he fixed her, kissing him goodbye before stepping out of his truck, but if she had to move on, she would.
“Have you heard me complain?”
“No, but I need to look for another apartment.”
He had cared about her even then? An inner glow filled her like helium. Any minute she would lift off and float away.
* * *
Cath finished explaining the shootout behind the ghosts at the Beauregard-Keyes House and ended her tour. Mitch rolled off the lamppost. She hooked her hand through his I-will-protect-you-from-anything arm, and they followed his brothers.
With the delicious scent of frying beignets in the air, Hal insisted they go for doughnuts, and they walked a block to the coffee stand with the striped awning.
Mitch held her back before she could follow Hal under the covered patio. “Go ahead and order for us,” he called. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
He steered her toward the green space where the café abutted Washington Artillery Park and the levee. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”
“What a coincidence.”
“You want to go first?” He raised that sexy chocolate-dark eyebrow.
Butterflies brushed gossamer wings against her insides. “I don’t mind.”
What a lie. She’d been building up courage to discuss this a few days, always stopping before she could utter a word. She’d been manipulated enough by others to never want to pressure anyone herself, and Mitch’s thoughts might not be going in the same direction as hers.
He lifted both eyebrows now. “How about we not wait for the coffee to go cold?”
“I like iced coffee fine.”
“You like caffeine any which way.” One corner of his mouth twitched.
“It’s not a good night for iced anything.” The cold, more intense this close to the river, crept under the edges of her shawl. “Bea came back to work today.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “How’s she doing?”
Cath let out a long breath. “She’s still taking it easy but I feel terrible she got hurt in the first place.”
“Feeling guilty was supposed to be my hang-up. Don’t you start. I’m glad Bea’s doing okay. You’re lucky to have her.” His dark eyes never strayed from her face.
“She said I could come stay with her until I can find my own place.”
His hands came out of his pockets to prop on his hips. “You don’t like my room?”
Don’t get upset. “It’s your room. You should be able to sleep in your own bed from time to time.”
“I do when you invite me.”
“True.” Cars swished past in the street beside them. Why had she picked such a public place for this discussion? But she hadn’t. Mitch had. “It’s hard to have any privacy with your brothers sleeping right across the hall.”
He frowned. “They close their doors.”
Mitch had lived with a pack of guys too long to understand. “I’m still imposing.”
“Aunt Edi loves having you there. Everyone likes you. Jack told me you and Tiger could stay as long as you wanted.” Mitch glanced over his shoulder toward the tables. “Want me to get him to tell you personally?”
“I believe you.” She reached for his arm, her fingers sliding off the slick nylon and brushing the hair on the back of his hand. “But I hate making you drive me downtown every morning.”
She would miss seeing him every morning, eating the breakfast he fixed her, kissing him goodbye before stepping out of his truck, but if she had to move on, she would.
“Have you heard me complain?”
“No, but I need to look for another apartment.”
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