That was progress, at least.
He moved and sat across from her on one of the couches, leaning in to the candlelight so she could see his face. “I’m not entirely sure what I did to you to make you so scared of me, but I just want you to know that you’re safe with me.”
She stilled.
Ah f**k, he’d scared her now, hadn’t he. Maybe just saying she was safe made her think of bad things, and now he’d gone and f**ked up. He sighed and scrubbed his face again.
“I’m not scared,” she whispered, her voice so low he could barely hear it.
Rome looked up, surprised. That was the longest sentence she’d ever said to him. “Then what’s with the silent treatment?”
She twisted her hands in her long hair again, pulling it over one shoulder and stroking it in a way that almost seemed agitated. After a moment, she blurted, “I’m . . . shy.”
That . . . hadn’t been what he’d expected to hear. Of course, watching her anxiously stroke her hair over her shoulder, over and over again, her gaze cast on the ground, made him wonder how he’d missed it.
Elise Markham wasn’t an ice princess who hated his guts. She wasn’t scared of him because he looked dangerous.
She was really shy.
A stab of pity rose in his chest. “How do you do, Shy. I’m Rome.” And he stuck his hand out for her to shake.
It was a silly gesture, of course. They’d met several times already. But it kind of felt good to start fresh.
She looked up at him, startled, and then gazed at his hand. A small smile curved her mouth and she delicately put her hand in his. She pulled away again a moment later, but the connection had been made.
“At any rate, I promise not to bite,” Rome teased. He was so relieved to find out that Elise was just shy that it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Grant’s wrath wouldn’t fall on him tonight. Thank f**king god.
Elise gave a small giggle and he was fascinated. The candlelight filled her face with shadows, but her smile was pretty and soft. She was a gorgeous girl, really. Why on earth was someone like her so shy?
He took off his jacket, since it was warm in the house. “So what do we need to do to get you past this shyness so you’ll actually speak to me?”
She blinked at him a few times, and her hands pulled on her hair again. Her mouth worked, as if she were trying to spit out words, but nothing came for a long moment. Then, she finally admitted, “I . . . just need to get comfortable. That’s all.”
“And you’re not comfortable around me because you don’t know me?”
She paused for a moment, then nodded.
“But Elise, I’m hurt. You’ve seen me shirtless.” His tone was teasing, almost flirty. “I’d ask to see the photos of the shoot, but we don’t seem to have power at the moment.”
A flicker of emotion crossed her face, and she seemed to hug herself a little closer. “The photos aren’t any good.” Her voice seemed a little braver, stronger.
“Oh. Huh.” He wondered why, but she didn’t seem like she was volunteering the information. “That’s a shame. If you ever need me to get shirtless again, though, you just let me know.”
Her eyes widened and she went silent again. As he watched her face, her throat worked, and he wondered if she was blushing.
For some reason, he found that charming. Hell, he was fascinated by her shyness. It didn’t seem like an act, and she was far too pretty for it to rule her life. Did she go around with downcast eyes all the time? How did she even date?
Did she date? He suddenly found himself curious about that. She had a sweet body, all soft curves, and that long hair was making him nuts. Her face was lovely, too, but if she hid it and stared at the ground, no one would ever see it.
He wondered if Elise got by in life by blending into the wallpaper.
She jerked to her feet, surprising him. “Um.” She hesitated, and clasped her hands, then unclasped them, all anxious motion. “You want a beer?”
“A beer would be great.”
She nodded and disappeared off into the darkness. For a moment, he wondered if she’d come back, but she returned a minute later with two beers and offered him one, then turned and sat back down across from him. A girl who drank beer. He liked that. Rome popped the cap off his and watched as she did the same, then took a swig. She had a long, graceful throat, he noticed.
He also noticed she’d gone silent again. Her gaze had moved to the beer in her hands, and she stared at it. That wasn’t good.
Rome tried a different tactic. “I’m not really good with small talk,” he admitted. “I never know what to say.”
She flashed him a grateful smile, her eyes meeting his again, and he felt like he’d just been somehow rewarded. “Me too.”
He took another swig of his beer. “I suppose we could talk about the weather, but I guess it’s pretty obvious that it’s shitty.”
She bit her lip and nodded, her gaze flicking down again.
Damn it, he wanted her to look at him. To see him. Not stare at her beer all night.
“You want to play a game? I can ask a question, and then you can ask a question. It’ll help break the ice until the power comes on or the storm leaves and I’ll be on my way.”
She gave him another one of those small smiles. “That’s not really a game.”
She was right. “All right then, sassy pants, if you don’t answer the question the other person asks, you have to chug the rest of your beer. Sound fair?”
Her head tilted, that long, glossy hair sliding over her shoulder in a waterfall. “You’re driving.”
“I’m also gonna answer everything you ask.” He winked at her.
She ducked her head again. Oh, damn it. He’d made her shy. But after a moment, she straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Okay, then.” He pursed his lips, then took a swig of his beer, thinking. No yes-or-no questions, since that would allow her to be quiet and he wanted her to actually talk to him. “How long are you in Bluebonnet?”
She shrugged.
“Oh, come on. That’s not a real answer.” He pointed at her with his beer. “Unless you want to chug that, body gestures are not considered an answer. That’s cheating.”
“It’s not cheating,” she protested.
“It is. I can’t believe we’re on the first question and you’re already cheating.”
“Fine, then. Here’s a body gesture,” she retorted, and flipped him the bird.