“Fairly,” I nod. “You?”
“They have the best coffee around,” he answers, if that even is an answer. “But let’s not tell anyone, or they’ll start naming the coffee things we can’t pronounce, and the lines will get unbearable.”
I shake my head, and I can’t help but smile. “Fine. It’ll be our secret.”
He stares at me, his dark eyes shining. “Good. I like secrets. Everyone’s got ‘em.”
I almost suck in my breath, because something is so overtly fascinating about him. The way he pronounces everything, and the way his dark eyes gleam, the way he seems so familiar because he’s been in the intimacy of my dreams.
“What are yours?” I ask, without thinking. “Your secrets, I mean.”
He grins. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Yes.
“My name’s Calla,” I offer quickly. He smiles at that.
“Calla like the funeral lily?”
The very same.” I sigh. “And I live in a funeral home. So see? The irony isn’t lost on me.”
He looks confused for a second, then I see the realization dawn on him.
“You noticed my shirt yesterday,” he points out softly, his arm stretched across the back of the cracked booth. He doesn’t even dwell on the fact that I’d just told him I live in a house with dead people. Usually people instantly clam up when they find out, because they instantly assume that I must be weird, or morbid. But he doesn’t.
I nod curtly. “I don’t know why. It just stood out.” Because you stood out.
The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s going to smile, but then he doesn’t.
“I’m Adair DuBray,” he tells me, like he’s bestowing a gift or an honor. “But everyone calls me Dare.”
I’ve never seen a name so fitting. So French, so sophisticated, yet his accent is British. He’s an enigma. An enigma whose eyes gleam like they’re constantly saying Dare me. I swallow.
“It’s nice to meet you, Dare,” I tell him, and that’s the truth. His name rolls off my tongue like I’ve said it a thousand times before. “Why are you here in the hospital? Surely it’s not for the coffee.”
“You know what game I like to play?” Dare asks, completely changing the subject. I feel my mouth drop open a bit, but I manage to answer.
“No, what?”
“Twenty Questions. That way, I know that at the end of the game, there won’t be any more. Questions, that is.”
I have to smile, even though his answer should’ve annoyed me. “So you don’t like talking about yourself.”
He grins. “It’s my least favorite subject.”
But it must be such an interesting one.
“So, you’re telling me I can ask you twenty things, and twenty things only?”
Dare nods. “Now you’re getting it.”
“Fine. I’ll use my first question to ask what you’re doing here.” I lift my chin and stare him in the eye.
His mouth twitches again. “Probably the same thing as you. Isn’t that what normal people do in hospitals?”
I flush. I can’t help it. Obviously. And obviously, I’m out of my league here. This guy could have me for breakfast if he wanted, and from the gleam in his eye, I’m not so sure he doesn’t.
I take a sip of my coffee, careful not to slosh it on my shirt. With the way my heart is racing, anything is possible.