He threw his head back and laughed, utterly surprised—and delighted—by that spark in her. She watched him, her eyes gleaming with her own amusement, and she lowered her finger. “Now come on,” Rome coaxed. “Gimme a real answer.”
“I don’t know how long I’m in Bluebonnet,” she murmured. “Until I’m tired of being here, I suppose. I don’t have a firm deadline or a job to get back to.”
Interesting. He thought being a photographer was her job. Was it not? But he couldn’t ask more questions. Not right now. “All right. Your turn.”
Elise gave him a startled look, then thought for a moment. “How many tattoos do you have?”
He was surprised by that question, too, and the way she ducked her face, almost bringing a shoulder up to her cheek as if she could hide it. Strange. “Sixteen, if the sleeves both count as one apiece. I’ve got three on my stomach, the two sleeves, four on my back, one on my neck, one on each hand, and two on each leg.”
She nodded.
It was interesting that she’d asked about his tattoos, not about him or why he was in town. He wanted to pursue that a bit more. “Do you like my tattoos?”
Her eyes widened and she stared at him again, her mouth silently working. She didn’t speak for a long moment, and he wondered if she was going to answer. Then, she dropped her gaze and began to chug her beer, her throat working.
He couldn’t help it; he laughed again. “You are a trip, Elise. You wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you said no.”
She didn’t reply, simply finished her beer and primly wiped her mouth with long fingers. He was fascinated by that dainty movement, and the grace in her step when she stood up. “I’ll get another beer.”
He watched her head off, amused. It had been a while since he’d been that interested in another girl, but Elise Markham was fascinating. She seemed shy and sweet, but she drank beer like a pro and knew when to bite back. And she was interested in his tattoos. That added up to a rather interesting puzzle, and Rome liked puzzles.
Elise returned a few minutes later and carried two beers again. She handed him one. “For just in case.”
“Why, Elise,” he teased. “You going to try and find something I won’t answer?”
She simply gave him a challenging smile and sat back down across from him. For a moment, he wished she’d sat next to him. Maybe that was too much to hope for too fast. At least she was talking to him.
“My turn,” she said, and popped the top off her new beer. “Where are you from?”
“That’s a pu**y question,” he teased. “And I’m from Houston originally.”
“Pussy questions are allowed,” she said in that prim, small voice.
“Fair enough. Where are you from?”
“Here.” She smiled. “Bluebonnet.”
“Then why are you staying at a bed-and-breakfast?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought it was my turn?”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry if I spoke out of turn.” Sassy little thing. He rather liked Elise Markham when she was peeking her head out of her shell.
“Where did you go to college?” she asked.
“No college,” he told her bluntly. “High school dropout.” Might as well get that out of the way, too. “So now it’s my turn. Why are you staying at a bed-and-breakfast if you live in Bluebonnet?”
“I used to live here,” she corrected in that soft voice. “My family moved to a lake resort up in Tahoe a few years ago. I’m just here visiting my brother.”
It seemed like they were both a little uncomfortable with the direction of the questions. Time for something lighthearted, then, when it was his turn again.
She thought for a moment. “Why did you come to Bluebonnet?”
“Mostly because I hadn’t been here yet. Wanted a small town to relax in.” To hide in. “Kick back, see what it had to offer. And I stayed because I got a job.” He shrugged. “I would have moved on if I didn’t.” When she simply nodded, he smiled at her and took another swig of his beer. “Now me. Let’s see. How old are you?”
If it wasn’t all dark and shadowy, he could have sworn she was blushing. “Twenty-four. How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight. How come a twenty-four-year-old still lives with her parents?”
She hefted her beer as if she were going to drink it, and then narrowed her eyes at him. “None of your business.”
“That’s not an answer. No boyfriend or roommates?”
“Those are new questions.”
“Well, seeing as how you didn’t answer the last one, I thought I’d try again.”
She considered her beer, then made a face at him. “I live at home because it’s . . . safe. No one bothers me there. And I haven’t had a good reason to move out.” She seemed a little disgusted with her answer, as if she were disappointed in herself.
“Fair enough.” He noticed that she didn’t admit to a boyfriend, though.
“What about you? Family or friends here in Bluebonnet?”
He noticed she didn’t say “girlfriend.” “Just me. I try to avoid family whenever possible.”
Her smile peeked out again at that, and he found himself smiling back. “Mine’s not so bad,” she admitted. “Just a bit overbearing.”
“Mine’s bad,” he said bluntly. He didn’t want to think about them right now. He cast around for something to ask her. “Any tattoos or piercings?”
“Nope,” she said. “So what do you think of working with Brenna?”
He eyed her and the charming little smirk she had on her mouth. “You trying to set me up?”
“That’s a question and it’s not your turn,” she replied lightly.
He gave her a sour look and then chugged his beer, declining to answer what he really thought of Brenna, since Elise was friends with her. Brenna was a good girl, but she was a nut.
Elise giggled, and damn, he rather liked hearing that sound. “We going to play like that, huh?”
“Like what?” she asked, all innocence.
“All right, my turn, then. How come I can’t see the photos you took?”
She gave him a frown and began to chug her beer.
“That bad, eh?” he asked, watching her throat work with something akin to fascination.
She shook her head and finished drinking, then gave a tiny, ladylike belch and clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.