Free Hunting Human by Amanda E. Alvarez

coffee and dessert?” Braden slipped his arm around her waist as they moved onto the sidewalk and up the road. The warm afternoon breeze had developed into a light wind that swirled around the street and carried the scent of another spring storm blowing in off the Pacific.
    “I don’t think I could eat anything else tonight. But walking for a while might be a good idea,” she said, the cool air cleansing her wine-fogged brain.
    “Okay.” When she shivered a little in the breeze, Braden pulled her under his arm. “Do you have family out here?”
    “No, I’m originally from the Boston area,” Beth answered, hoping to stick to easy topics.
    “Do you get back often?”
    “Not anymore.”
    “That’s too bad. You must get homesick.”
    Caution flared to life. She should have expected this. Dinner had been fun and engaging, and she’d managed to steer Braden into talking about himself—where he went to school, how he’d ended up in the family business. Every time he’d echoed her questions, she’d tried for vague or boring answers and then turned the conversation back to him. Most guys would have basked in the opportunity to focus the conversation on their interests and accomplishments. It both annoyed and impressed her that he seemed genuinely interested in hers.
    “Not as much anymore. Portland’s becoming more like home all the time.”
    “Your family must miss you.”
    Beth sighed, but couldn’t fault his curiosity. Maybe a blunt approach would work. “My mother died several years ago. It was just me and her, so, well…”
    Braden paused, clearly taken aback by the confession. “I’m sorry.” Though she suspected he wanted to, he didn’t push. Damned if it wasn’t endearing.
    “It’s alright.”
    They walked in silence for a few minutes, crossing the street and leaving the warm glow cast by the restaurants and shops behind for the muted lighting of the office district.
    “We didn’t really get around to talking much about what you’ve done over the last several years, something tells me you weren’t always working in coffee shops.”
    “No. That’s a more recent development.”
    “So, what were you doing before? I’m dying of curiosity here.” When she paused, Braden pushed. “Alright, I’ll guess.” He furrowed his brow, as though giving it careful consideration, then said, “You were a Las Vegas showgirl.”
    “God, no.” Beth choked on a laugh. “Stage fright.”
    “You ran a scuba shop in Cozumel.”
    “I’m a terrible swimmer.”
    “You weren’t a yoga teacher, were you?” Braden gave her a playful leer, “’Cause while I’m down with flexibility, I’m not sure I can deal with chanting and the scent of patchouli.”
    “Yoga enthusiasts everywhere are offended by your terrible generalizations. But no.”
    “So does that mean you aren’t flexible?”
    A pointy elbow to the ribs was the only response she gave.
    “Peace Corps?”
    “Definitely not that noble. I like my modern amenities.”
    “Oh, oh, I know. You could tell me, but then you’d have to kill me, right? Please tell me you know thirty different ways to kill a man with your bare hands…”
    Beth snorted at his ridiculousness.
    “What? Female spies are sexy.”
    “Sorry to disappoint. I don’t know thirty ways to kill a man with my bare hands.”
    “Damn. So no skintight catsuit either, huh?”
    She laughed, full and delighted. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
    “Hey, a man’s imagination is a dangerous place. Care to rescue me?”
    “I was in college.”
    “College, huh? Let me guess, underwater basket weaving?”
    “Architecture.” Surprise stole across his face. “With a minor in mayhem and destruction.”
    “Really?”
    “No. I minored in photography.”
    “An architect and a photographer.” He inspected her closely, as though seeing an entirely new side of her.
    “You sound disappointed. But, then, I guess it isn’t as exciting as a female spy.”
    “I’m intrigued. Why