Page 135 of The Diamond in the Rough

“What about your arm?” he asked, then.

“It’s improving,” I replied. “It still hurts, but not as much.”

“It must be a relief to have the fixator out, though?” I could tell from the lift in his voice at the end that it was a question.

“Definitely. I don’t get caught on my own shirts nearly as much.”

He smiled down at me. “I’m sure that wasn’t particularly pleasant.”

“No,” I agreed.

We lapsed into silence as we walked, but the whole fact that we were doing this still confused me.

“Can I ask a clarifying question?” I said, finally breaking the silence.

“Sure.” He looked over, clearly curious.

“What are we doing?”

He drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “Dinner, you mean?”

“Yes. I—” I could feel my cheeks heating, and it wasn’t just the warmth of the summer day. “I know you don’t want there to be anything… romantic between us, so I just want to understand what kind of dinner this is going to be.”

“About that…” He sighed again. “I—I would actually like it to be a romantic kind of dinner.” He shot me a glance, his gold-brown eyes slightly squinted in the sunlight. “If you would be interested in that.”

My heart started pounding, although I didn’t think it was from fear. Nerves, yes, but also… excitement? Anticipation?

I wasn’t any less confused, though.

“I thought you said that was a bad idea,” I half-murmured, hesitantly, glancing up at him as I hurried to keep pace with his longer stride. I didn’t agree with him that it was a bad idea, but I also didn’t want him do something he didn’t want to do.

“It is a bad idea,” he replied, although he sounded amused, which I found even more confusing. “I just decided that I don’t care.”

I studied his features, the slight upward curve of his full lips behind the beard, the crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t look angry about it, at least.

“What does that mean?” I asked him.

He glanced over, those golden-brown eyes warm. “It means I want to get to know you better,” he replied. “Preferably outside of murder cases, abductions, and wells.” His mouth twitched. “And dreams.”

I felt my face heat. “Sorry. I know I promised, but I could feel that you were upset?—”

“I’m not mad, Rayn,” he interrupted me. “I wasn’t reallyhaving a good time of it.” He grimaced. “I thanked you for getting me out of that, and I meant it.”

One of the things I liked about Raj’s face was the fact that it shifted with his thoughts and emotions—at least when he wasn’t working. It meant that I could read his expressions easier than most people’s.

“It was a good reminder,” he continued, color darkening his already-dark cheeks. “Of the fact that I can’t stop myself from thinking about you. Or caring what happens to you.”

I thought about this for a few minutes. “And that made you not care about it being a bad idea?” I didn’t quite follow the logic.

Raj let out a chuffing laugh deep in his chest. It was a very tiger-ish sound. “Yeah, it did,” he said.

“But you still think it’s a bad idea,” I said softly.

He sighed, the sound heavy. “Rayn, I’m more than a decade older than you are. We’re going to work together every time Hart drags Beyond the Veil into an investigation. I’m a federal agent with an unpredictable and dangerous job. And—” He hesitated.

“And I’m a fairly bad touch-psychic, dreamwalker, and death witch who has a lot to learn,” I finished for him, my eyes cast down as I watched his mismatched feet—one in a boot, the other in a white Converse shoe moving down the sidewalk. I knew dealing with me had to be infuriating from the outside.

“I was going to say,” he said, and he sounded embarrassed, “that I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”