Read Online Downtown Devil: Book 2 in series (Sins in the City) by Cara McKenna - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cara McKenna
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the door frame, smiling when he turned.
His brows rose, if only a fraction. “Oh, hey. I thought you were Mica.”
“Funny,” she said, stepping into the room, “I wondered if maybe you were him, too.”
“He’s not in his room? He must have an opening shift.”
“Oh.” That was a touch perplexing. What if she’d slept later than whatever time Vaughn headed to work and been left with no way to lock their apartment behind her? Though there was a small chanceMica had woken her, told her he was going. Clare could be a heavy sleeper.
She ducked into the next room, where she’d left her shoes by the coffee table. As she stepped into them she called, “Well, good thing I got up before you left for work, I guess.”
When she returned to the kitchen she found Vaughn looking awkward, smiling tightly. “You, um, you want coffee? I don’t have to leave for an hour, still.”
“Maybe just a small cup.” She’d chug it down quickly and be on her merry way.
Vaughn got up and filled her a mug from the pot warming in the machine. He was dressed for work, in sturdy black pants and a black button-up, a pager or other such device clipped to his belt. “Milk?”
“Milk and sugar, if you have it. Thanks.”
He fixed her coffee and handed it over.
“Thank you.” Clare’s bags were cluttering up the table and she slung them over the back of the chair. She took a seat, feeling about half as weird as she might expect. And not especially coy. “Sorry,” she said.
“For?”
“This.” She hugged her mug and let her eyes move around the table, the kitchen. “This is a little awkward, isn’t it?”
“Probably. He didn’t tell you he was leaving early, did he?”
She shook her head.
“I shouldn’t be surprised. Mica’s not always the most intuitive guy when it comes to social graces,” he offered. “But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t care. Sorry, though. He can be a flake about stuff like that.”
So she was gathering. A flake, but a truly fantastic fuck. There was always a price to pay, she supposed, and if the cost of getting her mind blown was to make small talk with the man’s roommate, she decided it wasn’t such a high one. Plus . . .
“Good coffee,” she told him, raising her mug.
“Good.”
“So you’re off on your EMT duties this morning?”
“Yeah, in a bit. I work weird hours. Today’s ten to ten, and sometimes I do overnights.”
“When are you busiest?”
“Nights. Things get real sloppy right around three a.m.”
“I’ll bet.”
“You get all the photos you wanted?” he asked, glancing at the camera bag hanging by her side.
She pictured those shots of Mica, kneeling above her, shirtless. “Yeah, definitely. I’m excited to get them onto my computer and see what I’m working with.”
“Is that your day job? Photography?”
“No, I wish. I work in a call center for an online retailer. I’m the one you call and bitch at when you can’t find your tracking number or your new shoes smell weird.”
He laughed. “You must talk to some real characters.”
“You could say that, yeah. If it’s taught me anything, it’s that shopping doesn’t make anybody half as happy as the advertising industry wants us to believe.”
“No doubt.”
She sipped her coffee—too hot still to chug, but not drinking it felt as rude as lingering. Small talk it was.
“So you guys met through a kind of Outward Bound thing, right?”
Vaughn nodded. “It’s called Urban Exchange. This guy from Philadelphia, Julius Green, started it in the eighties, to get inner-city boys exposed to nature. Great program. I volunteered as a counselor for a couple of summers, after I aged out.”
“Cool. And you and Mica stayed friends, obviously. He said you take climbing trips together.”
“Yeah, at least once a year—coordinating my vacation time and his finances isn’t always easy, but we make it happen.”
“What is it about climbing, for you?” It was a question she
His brows rose, if only a fraction. “Oh, hey. I thought you were Mica.”
“Funny,” she said, stepping into the room, “I wondered if maybe you were him, too.”
“He’s not in his room? He must have an opening shift.”
“Oh.” That was a touch perplexing. What if she’d slept later than whatever time Vaughn headed to work and been left with no way to lock their apartment behind her? Though there was a small chanceMica had woken her, told her he was going. Clare could be a heavy sleeper.
She ducked into the next room, where she’d left her shoes by the coffee table. As she stepped into them she called, “Well, good thing I got up before you left for work, I guess.”
When she returned to the kitchen she found Vaughn looking awkward, smiling tightly. “You, um, you want coffee? I don’t have to leave for an hour, still.”
“Maybe just a small cup.” She’d chug it down quickly and be on her merry way.
Vaughn got up and filled her a mug from the pot warming in the machine. He was dressed for work, in sturdy black pants and a black button-up, a pager or other such device clipped to his belt. “Milk?”
“Milk and sugar, if you have it. Thanks.”
He fixed her coffee and handed it over.
“Thank you.” Clare’s bags were cluttering up the table and she slung them over the back of the chair. She took a seat, feeling about half as weird as she might expect. And not especially coy. “Sorry,” she said.
“For?”
“This.” She hugged her mug and let her eyes move around the table, the kitchen. “This is a little awkward, isn’t it?”
“Probably. He didn’t tell you he was leaving early, did he?”
She shook her head.
“I shouldn’t be surprised. Mica’s not always the most intuitive guy when it comes to social graces,” he offered. “But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t care. Sorry, though. He can be a flake about stuff like that.”
So she was gathering. A flake, but a truly fantastic fuck. There was always a price to pay, she supposed, and if the cost of getting her mind blown was to make small talk with the man’s roommate, she decided it wasn’t such a high one. Plus . . .
“Good coffee,” she told him, raising her mug.
“Good.”
“So you’re off on your EMT duties this morning?”
“Yeah, in a bit. I work weird hours. Today’s ten to ten, and sometimes I do overnights.”
“When are you busiest?”
“Nights. Things get real sloppy right around three a.m.”
“I’ll bet.”
“You get all the photos you wanted?” he asked, glancing at the camera bag hanging by her side.
She pictured those shots of Mica, kneeling above her, shirtless. “Yeah, definitely. I’m excited to get them onto my computer and see what I’m working with.”
“Is that your day job? Photography?”
“No, I wish. I work in a call center for an online retailer. I’m the one you call and bitch at when you can’t find your tracking number or your new shoes smell weird.”
He laughed. “You must talk to some real characters.”
“You could say that, yeah. If it’s taught me anything, it’s that shopping doesn’t make anybody half as happy as the advertising industry wants us to believe.”
“No doubt.”
She sipped her coffee—too hot still to chug, but not drinking it felt as rude as lingering. Small talk it was.
“So you guys met through a kind of Outward Bound thing, right?”
Vaughn nodded. “It’s called Urban Exchange. This guy from Philadelphia, Julius Green, started it in the eighties, to get inner-city boys exposed to nature. Great program. I volunteered as a counselor for a couple of summers, after I aged out.”
“Cool. And you and Mica stayed friends, obviously. He said you take climbing trips together.”
“Yeah, at least once a year—coordinating my vacation time and his finances isn’t always easy, but we make it happen.”
“What is it about climbing, for you?” It was a question she
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