“Yes.”
I hate how much I like that he doesn’t dodge.
My fingers tighten around the coffee. “Why?”
“Because I’m a selfish bastard.”
“Boring answer.”
His eyes cut to mine.
“Do better.”
He exhales through his nose and looks toward the windows. Miami glitters behind him, all false gold and black water.
“I grew up with men who left before breakfast,” he says. “My old man ran freight, women, and lies up and down highways from Georgia to Texas. My mother stopped asking where he was by the time I was ten. I learned early that men could ruin a house just by being almost there.”
I say nothing.
He keeps going.
“I swore I would not be that. Then I joined a club and got real good at being everywhere except where feelings are. Routes, runs, problems, blood. Easy shit. Diablo named me Shady because I knew every back way through Miami and enough secrets to make honest men nervous. Truth is, I liked being useful where nobody asked me to be anything honest.”
The city hums against the glass.
“And Cherry?”
“You know the club women. Easy pickings. I was lonely. She was there. It was easy until it wasn’t.”
My mouth twists. “Men love that word.”
“What word?”
“Easy.”
He takes the hit. “Yeah.”
“I was easy too?”
His head snaps back to me. “No.”
“You sure?”
“You were never easy. You were loud, expensive trouble with a smart mouth and legs I still haven’t recovered from.”
Heat flickers in my stomach.
I point at him. “Careful.”
“I’m answering honestly.”
“You’re flirting honestly.”
“Also a growth area.”
I hate him.
I want him closer.
