Liam Davis & The Raven (6 page)

I jerked my chin up and stared at a couple
pressed up against the wall in front of us.

“They’re going for it,” he said.
“
Get a room!
”

The couple acknowledged him with their middle fingers.
A deep, hearty laugh left him, rumbling through his chair and through the material of my pants.

“You sound so much like Shannon, it’s uncanny,” I said, glanc
ing at the crowd around us. So far as I could see, Shannon and Quinn were long gone. “What’s your name, anyway?”

He rolled forward and pivoted the chair until he fac
ed me. “Hunter’s the name. Travis Hunter. But I prefer to go by the last name now.” For a lingering moment he gazed toward his lap. Then he reached out a hand. His shake was firm—a little too firm, as if he were well-practiced at proving his strength to strangers.

“Quite the grip, Hunter. I’m Liam.”

“I know.”

He did? “How?”

He pointed his index finger toward my pocket; poking out of it was my notebook, my name inscribed into the cover. I pushed the notebook further in. “I write for the
Scribe
.”

“So that’s where I’ve seen Liam Davis before. You wrote the politics column last year.”

I straightened, my lips stretching into a wide smile. I pushed up my glasses and nodded. “That was me.”

“
Serious shit. I loved your Christmas piece.”

My smile faltered. “Thanks.
What do you study?”

“Economics, but I don’t want to bore y
ou with any details. I’m also an amateur photographer.” He reached around and unhooked a camera bag from his chair. He took out the camera, opened the lens cap and looked through the lens. “Say cheesy balls.”

Ugh
.

Hunter
lowered the camera and checked the picture. His lips quirked. “That usually works for a grin. Try again. How about cheesecake this time?”

Snap! Snap!

“Much better. I have to say, Liam, when you aren’t trying to run over the disabled, you’re quite a charming guy. Not my type, but cute for sure. Now, if the way is clear, how about we brave moving to the kitchen and getting us some cocktails?”

Two hours and three cocktails later
, we were outside bashing the remnants of the hanging piñata, me with a baton, and Hunter with a long branch. Candy and condoms flew out of the donkey’s face and rained on us. Hunter stuffed half the condoms into a case at the side of his chair.

“Here ya go, Liam.”
He rolled over to me and tugged my pen-pocket until I almost toppled onto him. “Whoa, there.”

I braced myself on his chair
as a bunch of condoms were slipped inside my pocket.

“For whoever the lucky one is.”

I patted my notebook. Dizziness coursed through me, making me stumble backward. If Jill could see me now! “No lucky one. Too busy for that.”

“That’s too bad
—shit!” Hunter was looking toward the road. Slamming the driver’s door to a beat-up Honda was Shannon, and the scowl on her face said everything. “She found me.”

“Game’s up
, then,” I said.

“For today.” He rolled over to me. “Liam, meet me at
Crazy Mocha Coffee on Ellsworth tomorrow.”

I frowned.
“Why?”

“
Why? Why not? You’re here alone. I’m here alone. I’d say it wouldn’t hurt either of us to hang out tomorrow.”

“Well
 . . .”

“What? You have better plans?”

“I was going to buy a cat.”

He r
aised both eyebrows.

Shannon called out to him, her hair flying around her face. “Travis. Get your ass here now.”

He rolled backward, keeping his eyes on me. “Look, show up if you want to, or not. I’ll be there. One o’clock.”

Just a load of
nonsense. I didn’t like it a jot. With gritted teeth, I highlighted the column I’d spent all morning writing, and deleted it.

I s
ank onto my couch, closed my laptop and rested it next to me. Without the purr of the fan, it was too quiet in the house. Despite the slight hangover, I didn’t appreciate the silence.

I moved into the study where I kept my stereo and tuned in
to the local NPR channel. Dust drifted off the speakers as the room came alive with voices.

I
sneezed. I should use the room more often. Sitting at a desk was better for my posture than the couch or the bed.
Not half as cozy, though.

I sighed, then slumped out to the living room and snagged my keys and wallet. The clock in the kitchen read quarter to one.

The
column could wait a few hours. Maybe escaping would help refresh my mind.

Fifteen minutes later, I was at
Crazy Mocha Coffee. Hunter sat in the corner near the window, leaning back in his chair, leafing through a magazine.

Winding around the tables,
I halted a few feet from him when he laughed. “And I thought
I
had a hangover!” He gestured to the seat across from him. “Like the look, man.”

I looked down at myself. What was he talking about
—

Oh. The seams did look awfully large this side of the T-shirt. My hand flew to the back of my neck, where the tag scratched the palm of my hand.

“Wonderful.” I scanned for a restroom, but stopped at the counter. There, with their backs to me, were Shannon and Quinn.
So much for thinking I’d never see them again.

Hunter cleared his throat. “Yep, g
uess who decided to tag along. There’s no damn getting rid of them.” He tossed the magazine onto the neighboring table, and it slid off the edge. After a few breaths, he shrugged. “Grab a seat, and I’ll get you coffee if you like.”

“Oh, uh, sure. Thanks.”

He winked and rolled off. “You betcha.”

“Guess I’ll just wait here with my T-shirt inside out until you get back, then.”

I’d meant the comment for myself, but halfway across the room Hunter chuckled. “Rock the look, man.”

“Shan,
” Quinn’s voice sailed across the room, getting closer and closer. “I know it’s a pain in the ass, but I’m real thankful.”

“
Keep buying me hot drinks, and I won’t throw you out on the street. Yet, anyway.” There came an
oof
, followed by a short laugh. “Hey, I’m carrying coffees here! Wait, isn’t that Liam?”

I straightened, wiping my palms against my thighs.

“Liam.” Quinn rested his hands on the table as he squeezed into a seat next to me. “Tell me you’re not here using Hunter as your angle.”

“I’m not here using Hunter as my angle.”

Shannon sat on my other side and handed over Quinn’s coffee. “Quit it, Quinn. He’s Travis’s date.”

“Wait.” Quinn frowned. “
Date
?”

“In a manner of speaking,
” I answered quickly, “but probably not the way you’re thinking. We arranged to meet up here.” I pried my hand out of my pocket and rested it on the table. There was no need to be nervous. “To chat.”

He relaxed into the seat. “Yeah, y
ou don’t look his usual type.” His gaze dipped from my face to my T-shirt, where a small grin played at the corner of his lips. He hid it behind his coffee mug, and took a sip.

“Move it, Sullivan,” Hunter called, expertly moving his chair while balancing one coffee. Quinn scooted his chair to the side. “Here you go.” Hunter carefully slid the coffee to me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the warm cup and sliding it carefully toward me. Before I could enjoy it though, I needed to fix my T-shirt.

“Sure thing.”

“I’m just going to visit the restroom,” I said, pushing back my chair and hurrying away. When I returned, Shannon was talking to Hunter about why the self-defense course she and Quinn ran was so important.

“Gives these men and women the chance to feel more confident going out,” Shannon said. “They learn the skills to defend themselves and get a chance to run away.”

Hunter asked, “And you’ve been running these since . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence, but Shannon lowered her gaze and nodded.

“Yeah. It’s not enough, but I just need to do something.”

“This is the right thing to do, Shan,” Quinn said, focusing on his half-full coffee.

I sipped my
still-steaming drink. The way Quinn sat there with his prowling grace and deep voice had more than a few males and females glancing his way. The guy could say what he wanted, but he knew how good-looking he was, clubbed ears and all.

He scratched at the top of his shirt, giving me the faintest peek of his chest.
I looked at his face, startling myself into splashing coffee over my front—Quinn was staring back at me, one eyebrow raised.

“Gah!”

Hunter glanced over at us, cocking his head at Quinn. “He likes to do that—” With a casual gesture toward me, his hand hit his coffee and tipped it over. He lifted the cup, swearing. “Sorry!”

I moved too slowly, and
coffee spilled over the side of the table and onto my thighs. Jumping up, I brushed off as much of it as I could. “Guess it matches my shirt now.”

Quinn grabbed a bunch of napkins from the counter and came back to wipe up the rest.
He handed me a few extra. “For the pants.”

I nodded and took them. But I’d need more than a few paper napkins.

I twisted sharply at the tap on my shoulder. There, with his dark copper hair and shy dimpled smile was the guy I’d helped home the other week. Mitch, was it?

He darted a tongue over his bottom lip, glancing to everyone at the
table and back. “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just saw you, and . . . I have a feeling we know each other from somewhere.”

I peeled the
coffee-stained napkins off my thigh and balled them in my hand. “Yes, we met. A week ago. Friday night . . .”

He bit his lip and folded
his arms across his skintight V-neck. “Ohhh.”

“Are you going to introduce us then?” Hunter asked. He hooked his hands behind his head and smirked up at Mitch.

“Sure, this is Mitch. He lost his contacts while inebriated, so I walked him home.”

Quinn made a sound like he was swal
lowing a snort. Mitch unfolded his arms and shook Quinn’s hand, then Shannon’s. His shy smile wavered as he took Hunter’s hand, and when Hunter let him go, Mitch casually wiped his palms on his jeans.

“Are you kidding?” Shannon
asked, narrowing her eyes at Mitch. “You think a spinal fracture is contagious?”

Mitch glanced at his hands
, frowning. “It wasn’t—”

Shannon shook her head. “It’s
just rude, is what it is.”

“Yeah
, okay.” Mitch backed up a few steps and glanced at me. “Uh, bye.” He hurried away.

Hunter
’s eyes closed, his hands balled tightly, and his nostrils flared. Shannon reached out and patted his hand, but he whipped it away from her, jerking his chair back.

“What the hell was that, Shan?
” he cursed under his breath. “You always think you need to come to my rescue. I don’t need you to. I don’t
want
you to. Why is it you can’t see that I’m just fine on my own?”

“B
ut—”

Hunter was already rolling around the table and toward the front door. “Mitch, man, wait up a sec.”

“Quinn,” Shannon said, blinking rapidly as if to hold back tears.

Quinn
sidled over and wrapped an arm around her. “You meant well, darlin’. I know.”

I should move. Do something. Anything. I was just making things more awkward by watching, even if it was my instinct to observe.

My wet pants still clung to my legs, so I skirted toward the restroom. I passed Hunter at the door just as he caught Mitch’s attention.