He looks at me and beckons me over. “Hand me a cigarette, would ya?”
I wince, not budging. “Must you?”
“Must you give me a hard time? You’ve already complained twice when I’ve lit up. Do we need to do this a third time?”
I cross my arms, feeling the cigarette pack press against my ribs. “I just don’t know how you can do it when they’re proven to kill people.”
Dax leans forward, resting his forearm on his bent knee. “Maybe if I lived in a mansion and was swimming in enough cash to have anything I wanted, I’d make better choices.”
“I’d feel this way about cigarettes whether my family had money or not.”
“But they do,” he says bluntly. “And that gives you access to things I don’t have.”
I step forward and point at his scorpion tattoo. “So, because you’re part of that gang, that means you have to smoke? I’m not buying it.”
“First of all, it’s a club, not a gang.” Dax stands, dusting off his trousers. “Second of all, don’t pretend to know anything about my life.”
He steps toward me, reaching for the jacket zip. I gasp, jolting in place as the zip lowers down my body. I seize up when he reaches inside and retrieves the pack.
Dax moves back to the clump of rocks, plonks down, and pulls out a cigarette. His eyes move up and down my body, and I hastily pull the jacket zipper higher.
He smiles. “Are you comfy in that?”
I frown, yanking at the collar of the jacket. “Actually, no. It smells of ash and smoke.”
He twirls the cigarette between his index and middle fingers. “If you’d prefer to freeze, I won’t be offended.”
I can’t take his attitude any longer, and a groan thunders out of me. I unzip the jacket and let it fall off my shoulders and hit the ground.
I step away from the jacket. “I wouldn’t call this temperature freezing.”
He blankly stares at the rejected jacket. “Aren’t you going to pick that up and give it to me?” His gaze lifts to me. “I thought you rich kids were taught manners.”
My gut squeezes. Ordinarily, I’d never discard someone’s personal property like that. But this is no ordinary situation. Dax Malone is pushing all the buttons no one in my community does. I’m usually twelve steps ahead of everyone I meet. But with this guy, I have no idea what will happen next.
I look down at the jacket, and then back at him. “What will happen if I don’t pick it up?”
Dax stares at me for a long beat. Nervousness squirms inside me. I’m about to cave and pick it up, when Dax startles me with a sizzle of laughter.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head as the laughter dissipates. “Nothing will happen if you leave it there.”
My eyebrows knit together. My teeth graze my bottom lip, curiosity getting the better of me. “And what if I pick it up? Will something happen then?”
The unlit cigarette twirls between his fingers. “No. I’m not planning to do anything either way.”
With no clue what that means, I pivot between Dax and the jacket. I lower and scoop up the jacket, asking, “Any chance I can use it as a seat cushion?”
Dax runs a hand through his scruffy hair and shuffles along his rocky seat. “Sure. Take a load off.”
I move toward him and place the jacket on the bumpy surface. “Thanks.”
He shrugs a response.
I motion to the view. “So, you come here often?”
A murmured laugh puffs out of Dax. “Sounds like a pick-up line.”
A hot blush attacks my cheeks, and I duck my head, covering my face with my hand. “Oh my gosh. I totally didn’t mean it like that.”
