“Excuse me. You can’t do that in here.” Meg’s irritation cut through the conversation.
Susan paused, but a nudge from Andrew moved her again. He turned to face the register. “Do what?”
“That.”
“Not very clear, but let’s say I know what you’re talking about. Why not?”
The warmth scorching Susan’s cheeks was no longer affection, but she didn’t have a desire to ask Andrew to stop.
“You’re bothering the other customers.” Meg’s words faded off when Andrew cast his attention around the room.
“There’s no one else in here,” he said.
“You need to leave.”
Andrew turned back to the table but never took his arm from Susan’s waist. “Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed Susan’s drink and handed it to her, before taking his own. They left the shop. As the door swung shut behind them, he whispered in Susan’s ear, “Notice how that didn’t kill us?”
“Jury’s out on that.” Despite the gnawing in her gut and the adrenaline pumping through her at the confrontation, she had to admit she was right. He didn’t push Meg once she asked them to leave. No one got hurt. It wasn’t so bad. Once Susan convinced all of herself of that, not only her brain, she’d be doing better.
He steered her down the street, holding her close. “Let me know when they reach a verdict.”
“I had fun. If she hadn’t stopped us, I could have danced all night.” She peeked up at him through her lashes, trying to gauge his reaction to her play on their earlier conversation.
He smiled. “And still have begged for more?”
“Depends on the partner. And you are a fan of the classic movies, beyond retro porn.”
He glanced at her, smile in place. “You googled The Green Door? I hope you liked what you found. And no, not so much a fan, as a four-year drama student in high school. A lot of those musicals are burned into my mind.”
“You were in drama? I’m so surprised.” She laced teasing with her sarcasm.
“I’m wounded.” He sounded anything but. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She hesitated. What if she’d read him wrong? Worse—what if he didn’t know he was doing it, and she offended him? Instinct said she’d be okay. “You molded yourself into a community where you got to play a part—or a lot of them—and draw all the attention you could ever possibly want, as someone else.”
He slowed his pace but didn’t drop his arm from around her waist. He tossed his coffee in a nearby bin. It landed with a heavy thud. “Do you think I’m playing a part with you?” His tone was more serious than before. Which meant he didn’t shut her out like every other time she tried to chip away at his exterior.
She pushed forward. “Are you going to argue you’re not? You said earlier my audience doesn’t know me. You don’t either, the same way I don’t know you. Despite your stories.”
“What do you want to know?” He sat on a bench and tugged her down next to him. Sincerity shone in his eyes when he looked at her.
She hadn’t expected a chance to actually ask. “Are you still in love with Mercy?” The question rolled out before she could consider it.
“No.” He didn’t flinch.
“If you’re not going to be honest with me, there’s no point.”
“Correction—if you’re not going to take me at my word when I am being honest, there’s no point.”
She didn’t want to argue. This was her chance to uncover the enigma that was Andrew. If that meant saving the question about her sister for another time, she could do that. “All right. Give me another question?”
“As many as you want.”
“When did you decide to stop performing and start watching?”
He gave a shaky laugh and stared at the bench. “You do ask the tough questions, don’t you?”
“Should I let you do the asking?” So much for stripping away the mask.