Page 7 of No Headlines Please

"So?"

"So the coffee was supposed to make up for it. But if you're the one paying, it defeats the purpose, right?"

"Not if the purpose is something else."

I adjusted my grip on the flower pot. "Like what?"

His gaze flicked to the hydrangea, then to the suitcase, and then back to me. "Call it curiosity."

"What do you mean?"

"It looks to me like you have a story."

I let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, but not a good one."

"So it's a bad one."

"Maybe a little," I confessed. "But it's not a sob story or anything. I mean, I'm doing fine." I gave a hard swallow. "Honest."

He lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch. "You know what?"

"What?"

"It's almost dinner time."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, how about coffee after dinner?"

My mouth watered at the thought. "Dinner?"

"My treat."

"Yeah, but…I'm not starving or anything, if that's what you think."

And of course, right on cue, my stomach grumbled loud enough to make me a liar.

When he just looked at me, I confessed, "Okay, maybe I'm a little hungry, but it's not like I'm starving in the gutter."

"I know."

Well, that was a relief. Sort of. "But wait…how could you know?"

He glanced around. "No gutters here."

Okay, that was definitely a joke, but he still wasn't smiling.

Suddenly, I was curious too. No. Beyond curious. This guy definitely had a story. And even though I was utterly exhausted, I was dying to hear it.

Plus, who was I kidding?

Whatever his story, I wouldn't mind watching him tell it. Just saying.

Still, I refused to be pathetic. "Yeah…well, I just don't want you to think I'm some kind of charity case, that's all. I mean…I can afford food."

"Me, too," he said. "So, you wanna meet up in thirty?" But then, he held up a finger. "Wait…let's make it forty. I'm expecting a delivery."

So he lived here?