Free Celt. (Den of Mercenaries Book 2) by London Miller Page B

some of the girls at the gallery, Tabitha wasn’t afraid to ask the questions others were wondering. If she was curious about something, she voiced it.
    Standing at the counter, she reached for the box of Keurig pods in the cabinet above the coffee maker, digging one out and replacing the old one. Placing her mug down and pressing the start button, she looked to Amber expectantly.
    “What guy?”
    Tabitha didn’t believe her innocent act for a minute. “The one from last night. Tall. Beard. Delectably Irish.”
    There was really no need for her to describe him, not when she hadn’t been able to get Kyrnon off her mind, even before last night — he just had a face worth remembering.
    Not to mention their breakfast at the diner. It already felt like so long ago that she was sitting across from him, that soft smile of his when he dropped her off at home hours later.
    And that was all it had been.
    Mere hours ago.
    “You left with him, didn’t you?” Tabitha continued, trying to pry an answer out of her. “One minute you were here, the next you were gone.”
    Well, there was no point in her denying it. “We went to breakfast at this diner—he’s a nice guy.”
    “Nice? Is that all you’re going to give me?” she asked with a laugh, tearing open packets of raw sugar to pour into her coffee. “Did he ask you out? What’s his name? Is he good in bed? If you can only answer one, answer the last.”
    “There’s nothing to tell really,” Amber said. “We just talked for a while. His name is Kyrnon, if you must know, and I have no idea if he’s any good in bed.” Though he looked like the answer to that was a strong yes .
    “So you like him then?” Tabitha asked with a smile and a sip of her coffee. “At least more than the last one.”
    The last guy Amber had been on a date with was an accountant, one that worked for wealthy investors, and while he had been nice to look at, he had proved utterly boring. It almost felt like he was talking at her all night as opposed to to her.
    Needless to say, there hadn’t been a second date.
    Was it presumptive of her to think Kyrnon might want to see her again? Probably, but then again, he had left his jacket with her.
    “Then call him up,” Tabitha suggested like it was the simplest thing in the world. “If you like someone, there’s no shame in letting them know—even if it’s purely physical. Because seriously? That man would make me confess some things if it meant getting him alone.”
    Laughing out loud, Amber headed back for the studio. “I’ll see you later.”
    Back in the room, she removed her flannel, tossing the material across her stool, pulling on the smock she usually wore when she worked. And despite the task at hand, this was not any different than what she did when she was alone in her apartment, transforming ideas to expressions with the paint on a canvas.
    In fact, this was quite easier to do.
    There was more to it than just passion. It was about the technicalities, the sharp and blurred lines, elements she had been taught in school.
    The minute she picked up her first brush, time became a fluent thing, the hours slipping by as she engulfed herself in what she was doing, blocking everything else out.
    It wasn’t until she had finally decided to take a break and check her phone did she see she had a message from Kyrnon. Surprise and giddiness flared to life inside of her as she eagerly opened it, wondering what he would say.
    What time d’you get off work?
    Such an uncomplicated question filled with infinite possibility, but before she could dwell on it too long, she replied back with a time and set the device down, getting back to work.
    On weekdays, especially if they weren’t hosting a showing, Cedar closed its doors at five. Tabitha had already popped her head in to say her goodbyes, not blinking an eye that Amber was staying later. Though she worked there, she didn’t know very much about art, so she didn’t realize the priceless