THIRTY-ONE
Adjusting the thin neck scarf so the knot was at the side, there was bounce in her step as she left her bedroom the next morning. Zairn stood at the other side of the living room, next to a stack of papers on the short bar.
Why was he—oh, there was a phone at his ear.
“I have to go,” Zairn said. The tickle on her skin came from him watching her cross the room. She didn’t have to look to know it. “Yeah, maybe… Not tonight.”
She stopped at the bar next to him, peeking at the cups on a tray by a half-full French press.
“You snuck out on me,” Zairn said. To her? It didn’t sound like something he’d say on the phone. His hand slid onto her shoulder. “Lo…”
“Is this coffee still hot?” she asked, touching the side of the French press with the back of her fingers to find it was warm
