Crap. I should have asked Seth why Shane wasn’t at Halo tonight, but I was distracted, so nervous I could have crawled right out of my skin.
I buzz again and shiver with cold.
Come on, Shane. Let me in.
Disappointed, I turn to go, when the intercom clicks, letting out scratchy static, halting me in my tracks. Cautiously I turn back around.
“Shane?” I lean close to the panel. “It’s me, Cassie.”
A beat of silence, broken by the static.
Then the door unlocks.
The happy feeling returns as I push it open and enter the dimness. Yeah, baby. Not sure why I’m so happy—maybe it’s because I’m out of the biting cold, or that something in this crappy evening is going right.
The fact I’m about to visit Shane’s place, see where he lives, see him… My smile widens as I wander further inside, trailing my fingertips over the wall. Yeah, that thought makes me happy.
An out-of-order sign hangs on the elevator door, but even the fact I have to climb up three floors doesn’t faze me. Slipping off my high heels, I step lightly on the steps and start my climb up.
The building is old, the banister of the staircase stained, and the steps narrow. The light at the first landing is out, and I curse softly as I fish in my purse for my cell phone. Once I have it out, shedding light on the steps, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Not so fond of the dark, especially in unfamiliar old buildings.
I reach his landing, and one of the two doors is half open, yellow light spilling in a narrow strip. I knock and push it wide open to enter.
“Shane?”
He’s standing right inside, dressed in black draw-string pants and a white T-shirt, his long dark hair wet, dripping on the thin fabric.
“Sorry, didn’t know you were in the shower,” I mutter, struck, like every time, by how frigging handsome he is, how hot, and good God, the mental image of him in the shower makes my mouth go dry. Warm water sluicing down those broad shoulders, down that muscular chest, its planes and lines visible through his clothes….
He closes the door behind me, locks and pulls on two bolts, then turns and heads into the small living room.
Taking that as an invitation, I saunter after him, checking out his pad. It looks tiny, the only window giving out toward the main street, and I head there, twitching the curtain aside to look out. Yes, right below us moves Friday evening traffic, sluggish and colorful, the headlights of the cars and the lit shop front windows looking somehow festive from up here.
“You didn’t come to Halo,” I say as I turn and examine the rest of the room—the worn rug, the low table laden with dirty mugs, dishes and books. A large drawing pad is set against the wall. The sofa looks like it used to be green once upon a time, but now it’s a faded green-gray with lighter patches.
Shane is sprawled on it, legs spread, hands lax at his sides, dark ink swirling from his wrists up the underside of his arms. He lets his head fall back on the backrest, dark eyes narrowed to slits.
Watching me. Saying nothing.
“Nice place,” I try again. “Cozy.”
He closes his eyes. “Why are you here, Cassie?”
A little stung, I move away from the window. “Am I interrupting something?”
I mean, he hasn’t even offered me a seat. Then again, what did I expect? It’s Shane. So like every time, I pretend he did and stalk over to him. No choice. The only seat is the sofa, and his eyes snap open when I sink down beside him.
“Why didn’t you come to Halo? I was hoping to see you there. I talked to Jesse and Amber.” I nudge him with my elbow. “You missed my penitence and—”
He jerks sideways, away from my touch. “Don’t.”
I blink. “What?” He never seemed to mind these small touches before. “What’s going on with you, Shane?”
“Nothing.”
“Anyway.” Frustrated, not sure what I’m doing, only that I need to tell someone who won’t judge me, “I told Jesse Lee and Amber why I did what I did, apologized, and left. Not sure it made any difference.”