Just His Type (Part One) (12 page)

His smile was slow and sexy. "To taking chances."

Adam clinked his glass against my own, and the ring of the crystal was musical. He took a sip and I did the same, and despite my nervousness I had to admit it was the best champagne I'd ever had. Vaguely I wondered how expensive it was. My hand shook so much I had to put the glass down before I spilled it.

"Adam, I..."

"I know," he interrupted with a grin, and for a split second my heart stopped as my mind tried to catch up. "It's a little much," he shot me a boyish smile. "All of this, I mean. But I wanted to share it with you. It's a little like taking you out on the bike," he continued before I could open my mouth again. "It might be hard to believe, but this place is part of me too. I love what I do for a living, I'm proud of it. I wanted to share it with you, and the best way to do that was to bring you here."

"It's just that..." I began in a rush, but Adam pulled the silver dome off the plate nearest us and I gasped, distracted.

"Grilled Figs wrapped in Prosciutto with a Balsamic Drizzle," he announced, settling the beautifully presented plate down between us. The little prosciutto wrapped fruits were sitting on top of a bed of bright frisbee greens. It was so pretty I didn't know what to say.

"I love the fig's sweetness against the saltiness of the prosciutto and the spiciness of the greens," Adam explained as he cut into the fig and speared a small piece on his fork. He offered me the bite and I took it. "And then you get the sweetness of the balsamic and that's parmesan, just a little," he explained as I slowly chewed. "It's its own flavor of course, sharp and distinct, but it pairs nicely with the sweet fig."

I closed my eyes briefly as Adam spoke, half in an attempt to find all the flavors, and half to block out the remarkable emerald of his eyes. "There's something else there," I murmured, completely distracted by the experience of the food. "It's fresh, you get it afterwards."

"Good girl," Adam laughed. "Its basil, layered between the figs and the prosciutto. Do you like it?"

I nodded and he offered me another bite before taking one himself. My mind somersaulted between the two possibilities open to me; simply put, I could tell him I knew or I could keep my mouth shut and see how long he left me in the dark. Either way one of us was going to get hurt.

"Do you like oysters?" Adam asked, moving the figs aside and pulling the cover off another dish. Beneath the gleaming silver was a bed of crushed ice, with a half-dozen oysters nestled into it. The smell of lemon wafted up to me.

Panicked, I looked about the room. I couldn't let this go on, like everything was normal when I knew it wasn't. My mind was spinning, trying to take in more than I could handle, trying to find a way to process everything about Adam: what he was trying to do for me, what he was putting before me, what he was saying, and more importantly what he wasn't.

"What's wrong, Lil?" he asked as I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes, trying to block him out just for a second, so I could think. "Look, if you don't like oysters that's fine, there's plenty more for you to try."

"It's not the oysters," I whispered, feeling dizzy. "Adam... I...," I stopped, frozen and opened my eyes to look at him.

For a split second he just looked confused, and then understanding dawned across his handsome face, followed by the faint shadow of something darker. Time seemed to slow as we just stared at each other. I tried to speak, but no words would come.

"Fuck," Adam muttered. He slammed the silver dome down over the oysters with enough force to make me jump in my chair. "
Fuck
!" The volume of his voice echoed off the glass and rattled the crystal glasses of champagne. He stood up and began pacing frenetically. "Who told you?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. The look on his face was dark and it scared me a little.

"Lilly,
who fucking told you
?" he said in a low tone that frightened me more than any yelling would have. He stopped moving and stared down at me.

I don't know what I had been expecting, but it wasn't this. "N-no one told me," I choked out, averting my eyes. His face was stonily composed, but without his smile he seemed intimidating. "At work today I was assigned this story about parolees. And there was this list with your name on it..." I trailed off, letting the unsaid settle heavily between us.

"Jesus," Adam swore, and from the corner of my eye I could see him run his hands over the short stubble of his hair. "Lilly you have to believe that this wasn't how I wanted you to find out."

My hands were clasped in my lap and I looked down at them. They weren't shaking any longer, but lay perfectly still and a little coldly against the fabric of my borrowed dress. I flexed them just so I could feel them move, so I could feel something, anything other than the hard ache of hurt in my chest.

Adam crossed to kneel at my feet. "You weren't supposed to find out like this, Lil." He tried to take my hands, but instinctively I pulled them back, still a little afraid of the darkness I'd seen flicker in his eyes. My reaction froze him and he chuckled with a cold laugh that made me shiver.

"What do you want me to tell you, Lilly? What are you expecting to hear? That I didn't do it? That it was all a big mistake? That they got the wrong guy? Is that what you want me to say?" Sarcasm dripped from every word and it was so incongruous with the Adam I thought I knew that I gasped. I could feel tears well up behind my lashes, but wouldn't give them the satisfaction of falling.

"Did you do it?" I whispered. My voice was husky and low and I almost didn't recognize it.

"Yes." Adam's face was expressionless. My stomach dropped.

There didn't seem to be anything to say, so I remained silent.

"It's over and done with Lilly. I can't go back and change it, hell, if I could I'm not even sure that I would. I'm not going to apologize to you. We've only known each other three days,
three days
. I was going to tell you when I felt you were ready to hear it, when I was ready to tell you."

He reached up and brushed my cheek softly, for a split second he was the Adam I thought I'd known. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat to no success.

"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," I muttered, more to myself than him. The thought had sprung fully formed to my brain and hadn't stopped at my lips.

"Excuse me?" Adam said sharply. I couldn't look at him.

I didn't repeat it, couldn't repeat it. I hadn't even meant to say it. He snorted with derision and I could feel everything slip away.

"Is that how you see me, Lilly?" Adam stood swiftly and resumed his frenetic pacing between the food carts, everything on them now growing cold. "Bloody hell, I knew it would get this reaction, I
fucking
knew it! That's why I don't tell people right away. Even
you
must be able to see the logic in that. I wanted you to get to know me, and I wanted to get to know you, so I could tell you properly, in a way you'd understand. Not like this, Sweetheart."

I looked up at him then, at the faint note of hurt and betrayal in his voice, and for a moment it felt like I was the one who'd done something wrong. Despite the coolness of the room I could feel myself flush.

"Truth," Adam snorted. "I know it's what you want; I can see it on your face. You already know everything there is to know Lilly. Nine years for assault. I served three. I've been on parole for four... I have six more months and they tell me I'm done with the whole thing; a free man. But I'm sure your clever sleuthing found all that out already."

Numbly I stared at him. I hadn't learnt that much, but not for lack of trying. "A-aren't you going to tell me what happened?" I said, barely above a whisper.

Adam stopped moving to stare down at me. "Not to satisfy your curiosity. If you really want to know because you genuinely care about me, then I'll tell you, but not to satisfy your damned journalistic curiosity."

I could feel myself nodding, but I didn't know for certain what I was agreeing with. I needed fresh air, space. I needed to cry, but I wasn't about to do it then and there. He didn't move when I stood, even when I tottered a little on Rhiannon's ridiculously high-heeled shoes.

"I have to go," I murmured. It was all I said, all that I
could
say, and Adam let me leave without a word.

Chapter Seven

The second my borrowed high-heels hit the sidewalk outside the restaurant I knew I'd made a mistake. My stomach twisted with the horror of what I'd done, how callous and selfish and unbelievably childish I'd been. I swayed on my feet and paused, secretly wanting Adam to come bursting out the door, to grab my arm and spin me about and apologize, to tell me his story and kiss me until I forgot it all.

But he didn't.

I started walking vaguely in the direction of home but with no real destination in mind. I didn't want to go home to the emptiness and the sound of Rhi and Adele's voices on my machine, curious and prying. I just wanted to feel nothing for a time but the cool, spring air and the ever-present smell of the sea. My feet walked their own path and it wasn't until I caught sight of a familiar, dirt-covered pick-up truck parked in front of a familiar bar that my mind snapped back to reality.

It was precisely what I needed: a drink and a kick in the ass. He'd give me both.

Joe sat at the end of the bar and looked for all the world just as I felt: something was wrong. I sat myself down on the empty stool beside him and he raised his head to blink furiously at me, trying to focus. If he was surprised to see me, it didn't register on his face.

"Bad day?" I asked. It had to have been if it brought him to the city, he usually avoided it at all cost.

Joe snorted into his drink and emptied the remainder of its contents in one gulp. "Could say that. You too?"

I laughed and the coldness of it sounded alien, unlike me. "Buy a girl a drink?"

My older brother shot me a look that I couldn't read. He eyed the short length of my dress and for a quick moment I was quite glad he couldn't see the rest of it beneath my coat. He'd kill me for wearing it. "You meeting someone, Lil? On a date with that friend of yours?"

"Not anymore," I said. My voice wobbled a little and Joe cocked an eyebrow. I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"Didn't work out, huh?"

There was more kindness in his tone than I'd been expecting. He must have had more to drink than was usual for him. He plunked his empty glass on the bar and instantly a pretty, brunette bartender appeared to clear it away. He ordered another and one for me without asking what it was I wanted. She brought the drinks with a silent swiftness I knew we both appreciated. No questions, no cheerful quips, just another round of rye and water on the rocks: Dad's drink - Joe's too, apparently.

"What's
your
problem?" I asked, changing tack. I wasn't ready to talk about Adam and me; besides, with Joe I could predict the entire conversation and most of it would revolve around 'I-told-you-so'.

"Charlene dumped me."

My head swiveled round to look at him. "I didn't think you two were that serious. Mom gave me the impression it was just… casual."

Joe took a slow sip of rye. "It was."

My own swallow of rye and water went down smoothly and warmed me the entire way. "So what's the problem?" Secretly I was glad she was gone. I didn't like Charlene McMillan - never had. Even in high school she'd made me crazy. She wore too much make-up and was rude, loud, and too much like her mother.

Joe's blue eyes were slightly glazed with drink when he turned them on me, but I could see a great deal in them. "It's not that
she's
gone, specifically," he muttered. "It's just that…" he paused and I sat on the edge of my barstool, waiting.

"Ever get the impression, Lil… that your life isn't what you wanted it to be?"

I could feel my jaw drop. Joe chuckled a little at my expression and the noise warmed me up almost as much as the rye. "Yes, Joe. I get that impression on a daily basis. But you have the farm, isn't that what you wanted? Dad'll retire in a few years and then it will be yours, outright."

He nodded. "That's not what I meant. Yeah, I want the farm. It's who I am. I guess what's missing is a girl."

"To be honest Joe, I don't think that girl was Charlene."

My brother laughed again. "Yeah, I know, she drove me around the bend too. It's just that she understood where I came from, what my life's like, what it's always going to be like. Farming isn't easy, and Charlene's a farm girl, she gets that. But we were fightin' a lot, and neither of us was happy."

I couldn't tell you which of us was more surprised when I reached out and patted Joe on the hand. I hadn't voluntarily touched him in years. "You'll find someone."

"I'm thirty-one years old, Lilly and apart from the farm I got nothing to show for it." Joe's smile was sad. "I want a wife, I want kids. No woman in her right mind looks at me and thinks the same thing."

"Why not?" I interjected, shocked.

"It's hardly a glamorous life I live." Joe swirled his rye in his glass before taking another drink; the was the same gesture I'd seen Dad make a million times and for a moment I could have leaned over and hugged Joe, but I didn't. "I work 365 days a year, from before the sun rises 'til after it sets. There's dirt under my nails that'll never come out. I didn't go to some fancy school like you or like Chuck. I don't drive an expensive car. I don't make a lot of money. What do I have to offer a girl except these?" He held out his hands, wide and calloused: farmer's hands - sturdy, rough, and work-hardened. They looked like Dad's.