with Colin Tate,” she added by way of explanation, turning back toward the door and examining the hinge, trying to remember anything she could about the show MacGyver.
“Colin’s here?”
Andie spun quickly to face him, her eyebrows raised. “You know him?”
“Of course I know him.”
Yes, definitely in her best interest to attempt civility.
“Oh.”
A silence fell over them, and he smiled, running his hand through his hair again. “So, you and Colin? You guys are a thing?”
With a resigned sigh she gave up, walking away from the door and over to one of the shelves against the wall, sitting cross-legged in front of it. “Not a thing. We’re dating.”
“What’s the difference?”
Andie looked down with a shrug, feeling cautious since she had no idea how close he and Colin were. “It’s…new.”
“Ah. Haven’t decided if you’re gonna bang him and bail yet?”
She whipped her head up, an offended expression on her face, and he laughed, shifting his weight as he reached in his back pocket. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping them against his palm and then glancing up at her from under his lashes as he held the pack out to her.
“No.”
He chuckled, shaking his head as he held the pack to his mouth and removed a cigarette. “That’s rude, you know,” he said, the unlit cigarette wagging between his lips as he spoke.
“What is?” she scoffed. “Declining a cigarette?”
“No, that face you just made,” he said, pulling a lighter out of his pocket. “It’s like grimacing at someone’s food while they’re eating it.”
“Well, if the food in question killed the person eating it, or anyone within breathing distance of it for that matter, then I’d say it’s perfectly acceptable to grimace.”
He chuckled again as he held the lighter to the end of his cigarette, taking a long pull until the flame caught and the tip glowed orange. He put the lighter back in his pocket as he lithely pulled the cigarette from his lips with his thumb and forefinger, locking eyes with her as he blew the smoke out the side of his mouth, sending it away from her. “Just don’t breathe over there and I’m pretty sure you’ll survive.”
Attempting civility was getting more and more difficult by the second.
Andie began neurotically tapping her foot against the cemented floor. This guy was playing on her last nerve. Colin was probably back by now. He’d be looking for her. How would she ever explain this without looking like a complete idiot?
“Is that your natural hair color?” Chase asked suddenly, and her eyes flashed to his as an incredulous laugh fell from her lips.
“You’re gonna lecture me about being rude and then follow it up with that?”
He shrugged, taking another drag of his cigarette. “It’s just an unusual combo. The blonde hair with the brown eyes,” he clarified, exhaling the smoke away from her again.
He wasn’t the first person to say that to her, but he was definitely the first to preface it by questioning its authenticity. Andie looked up to see him watching her, waiting for an answer.
She shifted her weight on the hard floor. “My dad’s German and my mom’s Greek.”
“Good to know,” he said, “but that doesn’t answer my question.”
Andie rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. “Yes, it’s my natural color, okay? My mom has black hair and brown eyes, and my dad is the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Nordic poster boy. Put them together and you get me,” she said, gesturing toward herself. “Anything else you want to know?”
He laughed, and it annoyed her more than it should have that she couldn’t deter him. “Since you’re offering,” he said, “what are you doing down here?”
“Huh?”
He smiled. “I said, what are you doing down here? Why’d you come down to the wine cellar by yourself? The bar’s upstairs.”
“I was just…” She trailed off, looking back at the door, willing it to open with her mind.
“Just snooping around?”
“What? No!” she said as she looked back at him, horrified. He was smirking at her, the cigarette dangling between his lips.
“Why are you down here?” she challenged.
He removed the cigarette from his mouth and held it up by way of explanation.
“You came down here to smoke? Shouldn’t you go outside for that? I’m sure the owners of the house wouldn’t appreciate what you’re doing.”
“Me and the owner of this house—whose name is Mitch, by the way—used to sneak down here all the time for a smoke when I was in high school, since he was hiding it from his wife at the time.