When the Woods Go Silent (Haret Chronicles: Dark Fae #1)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

R UBY

Torrence’s attention on me is intense, and my head spins a little every time our eyes meet across the table.

I’ve already memorized the quirk of his mouth, full lips hooking up on one side as he teases me. I’m mesmerized by his long fingers brushing back those dark waves of hair, sweeping against his high cheekbones in the way I crave to touch him. I imagine the scratch of stubble against my skin, and heat flushes my cheeks.

And the way he fixes me in his gaze. In the glittering light from the chandelier above us, his eyes are amber fire ringed in gold lightning, pinning me to my chair, consuming me where I sit. I can’t get enough of his attention, and I feel myself turning on every tap of charm and flirtation I have.

Something about the energy between us feels combustible, like I could burn and be reborn according to his desires. That scares me a little, but I have to admit it’s also incredibly intoxicating. He has a power around him that draws me in, more so than any guy I’ve ever met.

“Tell me more about the Market , how you came up with the idea,” Rose says, directing the conversation because all I’m doing is staring. Torrence glances at her, and I can’t help but notice a bit of irritation in the tightening of his jaw. My eyes narrow as he turns to face her, his gaze definitely cooling as he rakes his eyes over her and then Arlo.

He doesn’t like her, I realize, my heart sinking. Why not? He won’t last long if he can’t accept Rose, no matter what my body wants.

Torrence clasps his hands together on the table, and I’m distracted by how large his fingers are, and the veins twining up his forearms, where his shirt sleeves are rolled back. Ah hell, I’ve already got it bad.

I barely listen as he explains the basics, how they source local fresh produce and create buzz and high demand with socials. It’s nothing I haven’t already observed from the outside, and I have the sense he’s simplifying, leaving out their trade secrets as though we’re competition. He glances back at me, pride lacing his words.

“ Goblin Market is my own idea. We’re in the process of expanding, looking for other locations. But I won’t compromise quality. I just haven’t found anyone I trust with it, yet.”

Arlo snorts but says nothing, and I wonder what exactly is his role in the business - and to Torrence. They call each other brothers. Friends, of course. But they don’t interact at all like Rose and I do. They’re cold with each other, both looking like they wish the other one wasn’t here. And evidently, Arlo isn’t trustworthy to run the business.

“We were thinking of asking you about catering. For our grand opening,” I say, and Rose cuts her eyes to me, a questioning look on her face. Oops. Sometimes I forget to run my ideas by her before I start my research.

Arlo shakes his head before Torrence can answer. “ Goblin Market doesn’t cater. We like to keep the control right here.”

Torrence gives him a hard look. “I’d consider it. For the right reasons.” Arlo glares down at his plate, but he doesn’t argue.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to think of a good reason,” I say lightly, ready to steer us back away from a topic that is apparently going to be prickly. “So, any chance I could get a tour of this famous kitchen?” I ask, looking at Torrence with a coy tilt of my head. I don’t give a shit about their kitchen, but I’d love to get him in a different room and away from the crutch of my silly double date idea. He’s different in this group setting, and I want more of the banter we had in the woods.

“Sure. You can help me plate the next course,” Torrence says, standing and offering his hand. I relish the way his fingers curl tightly around mine, possessive and strong. Once the black door to the kitchen swings shut behind me, he gives me a smirk. “I wanted to get away from Arlo, too.”

“You guys don’t seem to get along,” I observe carefully, and he shrugs, sliding his eyes down to my mouth, then a little lower.

“I’d rather have you to myself.”

“Is that why you left me on read?” I ask, trying to ignore the thrill in my body and sliding past him to wander the kitchen. I slowly take in the gleaming surfaces, platters of fruits, and baskets of squash and greens. It’s picture perfect, as though ready for a magazine shoot.

“On read?” he repeats, narrowing his eyes at me.

“My phone. I saw when you read the text. But you took forever to reply.” Now I wish I hadn’t brought it up. It sounds more like whining than the teasing I was going for.

“I’m busy. I travel. Service is bad,” he says tersely, and the way he gives so many reasons so quickly makes me think none of them are true. But I let it slide for now, leaning against a counter and fluffing my hair. It always takes me a bit to figure out how to talk to a person, especially if I want them to like me.

“So what else do you do? Besides hike and work.”

“Sometimes when I’m unavailable, it’s because of my mother. She... needs a lot from me.”

My eyebrows raise, and I can tell he’s holding back most of that answer, too. He must have some trust issues, but then, who doesn’t these days? Anyway, it’s amazingly sweet for him to care for his mother.

“Both of my parents are dead. Rose is my only family,” I blurt out, uncertain why I even said it. “But it’s fine. I’m used to it,” I add in a rush, before he can offer sympathy or pity. I hate that.

“I have a lot of extended family, but my mother is the only one I’m close to. It’s complicated. Don’t expect to meet them.” Torrence smiles, but it’s hollow, and we both know it isn’t a joke. We’re floundering, losing the easy flirtation that we started with, and I think about how to direct the mood a little better. People always say to be yourself, but that doesn’t account for the way my brain works. Being myself usually means being too weird for the general public.

But flirtation is easy enough, formulaic in a way small talk never has been for me.

“Looks to me like you don’t need any help plating this course,” I say, stepping toward Torrence as he leans against the opposite counter, arms folded over his broad chest. A tray of small plates is ready and waiting behind him on the counter, each filled with a different delicious-looking entree. I step so close that my breasts are just inches from brushing against him. Then I reach around him and swipe my finger through a bright green sauce, ruining its artistic schmear.

That sexy smile returns as he looks down at me, and I swear I can see his pupils dilate as he watches me suck my finger between my lips. I let my eyelids slide closed, humming in approval, and the sound seems to take form between us, connecting our bodies with an electric sort of energy.

“Sounds to me like you didn’t really want a tour,” he answers, one arm sliding behind me and clamping my body against his. I melt into his muscle and height, absolutely loving the feeling of being trapped in his grip. I tilt my head back, and his fingers grasp a few strands of my hair, tugging them playfully.

“Nope. I’m more interested in you than your restaurant. Or your family.” The moment sizzles as we simply stare at each other, the heat between us ratcheting with each second that ticks by.

“Good,” he says, his voice dropping to something hoarse and scratchy and delicious. His head tilts down, his lips just inches from mine as we breathe the same intoxicating air.

I raise my heels just a little, getting ready for the kiss that feels so inevitable, but he only smirks and lets me go. Sliding a step sideways, he palms the tray and saunters back through the kitchen, leaving me to follow in a haze of heady need.

Ugh, he was so right. Why did I ever involve Rose and Arlo, when I could have had Torrence all to myself? I’m suddenly no longer hungry for dinner. Instead, I’m already scheming about how to pull him away early, and what we could be doing instead of talking.

No. I told myself I’d take this slow. And I will. Damn it.

When I settle back in my seat, Arlo and Rose are comparing dating lives. I suppress a groan, masking it by filling my mouth with vegetable tart. The crust is flaky and buttery, and so much more interesting than dredging up the past.

“Tor here never makes time for things like this,” Arlo says, giving me a little smirk and gesturing to Rose and me, as though we’re a thing, a “this.” Gross. I don’t love his entitled attitude, and I’m beginning to agree with Rose that he’s not worth her time.

“So we should feel special, blah blah blah,” Rose challenges, raising her eyebrow. He snickers.

“You? No. I always make time for a sexy woman. Or man,” he adds, upping the ante in their sparring.

“Interesting. It’s only fitting, of course. I told you last time that you shouldn’t feel special, either.” Rose leans back in her chair, and I can’t help but giggle. They’re pretty well matched, actually. Whatever they decide to do together will probably flame hot and bright, but burn out quickly, leaving nothing to bother cleaning up after.

Sometimes I wish I could find it so easy to let go.

Rose cares too little for the men she gets tangled up with. Me? I care too freaking much, getting attached way too soon, and it always seems to get me in trouble.

“Have you dated anyone else in Clearwater?”

I tilt my head at Arlo, wondering why he cares about me, but the answer is no. “I haven’t had time to date in months. Getting everything ready to buy the bookshop, and knowing I was moving to a new place? Didn’t leave me much reason to start anything.”

“Good answer,” Torrence says quietly, his eyes flashing at me. “Though, it could be fun to have an ex-boyfriend to threaten.” I give him a nervous little smile as my stomach churns a little. Possessiveness is fun in the bedroom, but not so much in regular life. Am I stepping right into another problematic man’s sights?

“Well, what about you?” I shoot back at my date. “Any former girlfriends around here that I need to know about?” I keep my tone light and teasing, ignoring the snicker that comes from Arlo. This question is a litmus test, though, and I know Rose is listening, too. Men who call their exes crazy are probably going to call you that one day, too.

“I keep busy, too. So, no.” The last word seems like an afterthought, as if his busyness was the real answer. I’m beginning to read between the lines, guessing Torrence pretty much always puts work first.

I’m okay with that, I think. If we make it past dinner and onto a few more dates, having someone who puts their business first will be good for me. The bookshop is my one true love right now. I promised myself I’d give it anything it needed to thrive, so probably dating someone who feels the same about their own business would be a great match.

Of course, if Rose could hear my internal debate, she would point out that I’m already too close to jumping in deep, if I’m imagining all of this. But even though it might seem on the outside like I leap before I look, I do actually think about things. A lot.

What usually trips me up is that, no matter how much logic I put in, the hope for love always seems to win.

Or in this case, maybe lust.

I slide my eyes to Rose, checking in with her silently, and she gives me a playful wink that tells me the game is on. Arlo doesn’t have a chance, and I love that for me, because it means Torrence will be all mine very soon.