“I’m sorry. Um…I wouldn’t really hit you, you know.”
Just like that, she refocused him. “Oh, well, I feel better now,” he said, amusement threading back into his voice. And it was true. He rolled his head on his shoulders and released some of the tension in his neck. She was quiet for a while, making him wonder if she really thought he’d been upset about her comment. He didn’t like the idea she might be feeling badly. “Um, I’m a little claustrophobic is all. So, if you could, maybe, stop mentioning it’s dark in here, even though…shit.”
“What?”
“Well, obviously it’s dark, but I can avoid thinking about how tight and…close it is in here when you’re talking—just, talk about something else.” He rubbed his hand roughly over his skull trim knowing he sounded like a complete idiot, which was why he didn’t often get to know anyone beyond his small circle.
But her reply sounded completely earnest. “Oh, okay. Well, then, what should I talk about?”
Chapter Two
“Hell, I don’t know. How about that game of Twenty Questions?”
Makenna smiled at his gruffness but couldn’t blame him. She’d be freaking out if she were claustrophobic and thought he had to be strong to sit there so calmly. She wondered if that was why he’d been so quiet earlier and decided to help him through their hopefully temporary confinement.
“Okay. You go first.”
“Okay.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “What’s a forensic accountant?”
“An accountant who analyzes accounting and business practices as part of an investigation, like for litigation.”
“Oh, well, that actually does sound interesting. Like detective work.”
She appreciated his effort, but was so used to people developing narcolepsy at the mere mention of being an accountant that she wasn’t sure if he was being serious. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Not at all,” he replied. The speed of his words confirmed his sincerity.
“Okay, then. My turn?”
“Fire away.”
Makenna smiled. “Did I see a tattoo on your hand?”
He didn’t answer right away. “Yeah. It’s the head of a dragon.”
Makenna didn’t have any tattoos—she’d been afraid it would hurt to get one—but she’d also always been a little fascinated by them. “Is it just the head?”
“Hey, it’s my turn now.”
“That wasn’t a new question,” she argued, “that was simply a clarification of my previous question.”
“I thought you were an accountant, not a lawyer.” He chuckled. “Fine. The whole dragon’s on my arm and its head’s on the back of my hand. Now, is it my turn, counselor?”
Makenna couldn’t help but smile at his sarcasm. Growing up with three brothers had taught her the fine art of banter. “You may proceed.”
He laughed and she liked the ring of it. “How very magnanimous of you.”
“Ooh, pulling out the SAT words now, are we?”
“What? A guy with a tattoo can’t use a four-syllable word?”
Makenna sucked in a breath, then sighed. “I wish I could see your face so I could tell if you’re being serious or not.” Then, just in case her indirect reference to the darkness bothered him, she hurried to add, “That’s so not what I was saying. Just yanking your chain. It’s your turn, already.”
His low chuckle made her smile in relief. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. What made a girl like you become an accountant?”
A girl like me?
“A girl like me?” Makenna frowned and awaited his explanation. She couldn’t begin to fathom what he meant.
“Just…” Caden sighed and murmured something she couldn’t understand. “You’re pretty.”
Makenna went from flattered to perturbed and back again. In the end, she couldn’t decide which emotion to settle on. Growing up in a houseful of boys turned her into a tomboy from as early as she could remember. Although her college roommates introduced her to girly things like dresses and skirts and lingerie and makeup, she still thought of herself as just one of the guys. Nothing remarkable. Certainly not the kind of girl her brothers drooled over.
“Um, shit, that didn’t come out right either. I mean, you are pretty, but of course pretty girls can be smart. I mean—shit, I’m just gonna stop talking now.”
Makenna finally settled on amused and burst out laughing. “Yes, now would be a good time to put down that shovel.” Getting more serious, she said, “Well, and this will no doubt up my geek factor to you, but I was always very good at math, and numbers just came easy to me. I didn’t really want to go into the theoretical side of it and teach. And then my oldest brother became a cop. He told me about forensic accounting.”
Caden didn’t respond, and Makenna was almost certain she’d put him to sleep. Then he said, quietly, “I really like the sound of your voice.”
Makenna’s flush ran down into the neck of her silk blouse. Saying she was pretty hadn’t gotten to her, but his saying he liked her voice set butterflies loose in her stomach.
“Me, too. I mean, I like it, too. Your voice, that is.” Makenna bit her lip to cut off the spectacular stream of nonsense coming out of her mouth, then pretended to thunk herself in the forehead. In that moment, she was glad for the darkness.
Caden felt lucky Makenna was as easygoing as she was, because if he put his foot in his mouth one more time, he was sure she’d make good on her threat to smack him. First, he jumped to conclusions, assuming she’d judged him when she learned of his tattoo. He’d just been so disappointed she might disapprove of him even without seeing him. Then, his verbal filter failed, and he’d called her pretty. He’d been thinking of her red hair again and, without a doubt, it was pretty, beautiful even, but it slipped out without him thinking about the caveman way he’d phrased the question. And then he’d actually admitted he liked her voice. It was true, but he didn’t need to be saying that shit out loud.
But then she’d said it too. And the dynamic shifted back in his favor. She’d stumbled over her own compliment. He thought maybe, just maybe, she enjoyed him saying he liked her voice.
He searched his mind to think of another question, one that ran less risk of him encountering bodily harm at her hand. He finally came up with “How many brothers do you have?” He probably should’ve thought of something else, but the words were out of his mouth.
Her voice sounded like she was smiling. “Three. Patrick’s the oldest. He’s the one who became a cop. Ian’s next. And Collin’s a year younger than me. Do you have any siblings?”
“His name was Sean. He was two years younger than me.” Caden waited, suspecting Makenna would pick up on his use of the past tense.
Finally, her response came. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine losing one of my brothers. That must’ve been very hard. Can I ask how long ago he…you lost him?”
Something about the darkness made it safe to share some of this story. She couldn’t see his grimace or the ticking of his clenched jaw. She couldn’t wonder about the way he flexed his right shoulder so he could feel the skin over his shoulder blade move where Sean’s name was inked. And she couldn’t see the crescent-shaped scar on the right side of his head he always fingered when he got tangled in memories of his brother.