Backtracking, she rubbed the back of her neck, looking away. “There’s really not much to tell. I work a lot, so I don’t have a lot of time to do anything else.”
“No?” He gestured to her arm with a tilt of his head. “Then who did that to your wrist?”
She could tell what he was thinking, that some guy had done it in a fit of rage because of some perceived slight, but that was far from the truth. Yes, it had been a man, but that fit of rage was more of a drunken outburst.
That didn’t mean she wanted to tell him what happened.
“It’s not what you think,” she said instead. Glancing around at her tables to give herself a moment to think, Reagan decided to avoid his question by changing the subject. “Are you single?”
His face shifted, just the slightest change and had she not been looking at him, she would have missed it. But the look was almost akin to…hurt. “Yes.”
“So what brings you to the city?” He seemed to want to talk and she was curious to say the least.
“Work.”
Discreetly looking him over—though she could say with almost perfect certainty what he was wearing—she wondered what kind of work he did when he dressed the way he did.
“How long are you in town for?”
“However long I’m needed.”
Well that didn’t really answer her question, but it was clear that was all he was going to say on the subject.
“That’s pretty cryptic. If I asked you what you did for a living, would you give me answer?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile fully. “What do you think I do?”
She didn't have the slightest clue. He didn’t look like he worked in business—or he didn’t look like any businessman she had ever seen—and though he had the muscle, he didn’t look like a gym trainer either.
“Journalist?”
That, at least, got a laugh out of him. “Really? What makes you think that?”
“I’d guess, through this entire conversation, you’ve learned more about me than I’ve learned about you. I’d imagine a journalist was good at that.” After a moment though, Reagan shook her head. “On the other hand, you don’t really seem to have the attitude for it. You have that whole…brooding thing going on.”
Cutting into his steak, he looked to her with a raised brow. “That sounds like an insult.”
“Not at all.”
It worked for him, more than it did for anyone else. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, as though he didn’t care about anything or anyone, or just the way he spoke that made her crave to know more about him.
If anything, it was more of a compliment.
“If I told you what I did, you wouldn’t believe me.”
Intrigued, Reagan rested her elbows on the table, leaning towards him. “Oh? Try me.”
“Sanitation.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugged a shoulder, finishing his bite of steak. “Someone has to do it.”
“You don’t smell like a garbage guy.” She imagined that even with multiple showers, there would still be that trace of foul odor attached to them.
“And what do I smell like?”
Nice. He smelled nice—more than a little nice if she was being honest. Clean, almost woodsy, with a darker undertone that she couldn’t make out. Overall, his scent made her want to stay exactly where she was so she could indulge in it.
But to answer his question, she merely shook her head with a slight smile. There was no way she’d be able to answer that without blushing.
“Reagan?”
Both she and Niklaus looked in the direction of her boss who was peeking through the little window at them, waving her over with his spatula.
“Looks like I have to get back to work,” she said standing, smoothing a hand over the front of her uniform, trying to pretend like she didn’t notice the way his eyes followed the movement. “It was nice talking to you, Niklaus.”
This time, he offered her a smile, one that made her legs feel like jelly. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
She hoped so.
God, how she hoped so.
Chapter Eleven
And there he was again.
It was only the third time he had frequented the diner in the late hours of the night, but each time he came in, Reagan’s heart raced a little bit faster. She had thought maybe she had mistaken his interest that first night and had wanted to put him out of her mind. When he had come in the next day they were unusually busy. There was an open seat on the other side of the diner, but he still chose to wait until there was a vacancy at his table before he sat.
No, there was no mistaking that.
And then there was the way he studied her, how his eyes lingered when she was close. She could practically feel his gaze on her when she was at another table. She felt almost giddy at the knowledge that she had his interest, even if for a short while.