Here Comes Trouble Page 0,55

off the top of my head, but none of them have to do with your job as an inn owner.”

“Well, that might be because my job isn’t as interesting as yours.”

“Why people do what they do is always an interesting story. Some happier than others, but a story all the same, and you’re right, it provides insight. But there’s all kinds of insight. And why people do what they do for a living is just the tip of it.”

“But people find out what you do and pass or make judgments without getting to know anything else. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Let’s just say it distracts them. And then we never seem to get back to the whole getting to know the rest of you part. There’s more there than just a poker player.”

“I would never have thought otherwise. Doesn’t anyone take the time to figure that out, to find out the rest?”

“Bright shiny objects tend to blind a lot of folks.”

She smiled. “They can’t get past the bling, huh? Well,” she gestured to herself, “as you have probably figured out, I’m not much of a bling type. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve never gambled or been to Vegas.” She studied his face for a moment longer, and he let her. “I also know there is a lot to you. And I’m curious about all of it. But trying to tiptoe around parts makes it hard to see the whole. Like a jigsaw puzzle with a bunch of pieces missing so you can’t see the entire picture.”

“Kirby—”

“Just let me ask you this. If I promise to ask about other things, take the time to probe your brain about how you feel about things like environmental awareness, or do you prefer crunchy or smooth peanut butter, who you voted for in the last presidential election, are you more excited about the Super Bowl or March Madness, and if you’ve ever been to Paris, or Sydney…which are both high on my personal list, would it be okay if I also asked questions about what it’s like to win big gaudy bracelets by playing cards?” She made the sign of an X over her chest, then held up her hand, little finger crooked. “Pinky swear?”

He stared at her a moment longer, his smile growing, until he finally shook his head and laughed. “You think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, and maybe I am. I haven’t been away from the mountain long enough to put the molehill in perspective.”

“Pinky swear,” she repeated.

He ducked his chin, still chuckling. But he surprised her by shifting the helmet under one arm and extending his own little finger. “Okay. Deal. But it goes both ways.”

“Deal,” she said, hooking fingers with him.

He tugged her closer with their linked fingers and then unhooked them and tipped her chin up. “You’re an original, Kirby Farrell.”

“I’m just me.” She smiled, even as her body shot right past tingling awareness to full throttle take-me mode. “Maybe you should get out more.”

“That part I figured out. That’s how I got here.”

“Some folks just get a hobby, you know. Broaden their social circle.”

“I think, in my case, I needed to shrink it. Drastically.”

She thought about the world he’d lived in and really couldn’t wrap her mind about what it would be like, to live, work, and play in that environment all the time. “You never really got away from it? Didn’t you have somewhere you could retreat to, pull back, hang out?”

“I thought I did. It wasn’t enough.”

“I guess it’s hard to escape the bubble there.”

“Something like that.” He leaned down and kissed her.

It was short, and more tender than hungry, but it was also more poignant than sweet.

“Thank you,” he said when he lifted his head.

She had to blink her eyes open, clear the fog a little. He really was kind of entrancing. And maybe she needed to get out more often, too. “For?” she asked.

“This. You. Hanging out, pulling back, escaping the bubble, and retreating. It’s better now. With you.”

She felt her skin flush, both with pleasure and a little embarrassment. “I’m not, I mean, I haven’t—thank you,” she said, wisely breaking off and opting to shut up and accept the compliment. She could obsess and stress over all the possible implications and potential meanings behind it later.

He slid the helmet onto her head. “Come on. Dinner awaits.” He put his own helmet on, and she saw that there was no adornment on his. He slung his leg over and

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