Hawke took another sip of his whiskey, then sighed. “Unfortunately, I ain’t that interesting.”
I glanced around the cabin, taking in the open floor plan, the timber-framed architecture, the hardwood floors, the plush area rugs, the custom-built stone fireplace, the huge flatscreen, the security TVs mounted in the kitchen. “Pretty sweet setup you’ve got here for such a boring guy. What do you do for a living?”
“Mostly I sit around all day and scratch my balls. Watch a little porn. Drink myself into a stupor. Good times.”
“They pay you for that?”
“Not anymore.” He flashed his trademarked panty-melting smirk. “I’m retired.”
I narrowed my eyes at him over the rim of my coffee mug. “Yeah, right. What are you, forty?”
“Thirty-four, smartass.”
“What kind of work lets you retire that young?”
“Eh, this and that.”
“Sounds like code for something shady.”
Hawke grabbed my fork and speared the last lonely mushroom on my plate, lifting it to my lips. “It’s code for shut your mouth and finish your dinner before I spank you and send you to bed early.”
Holy hell.
My stomach dropped to the floor, my thighs clenching together at the sound of his deep voice, his teasing threat.
Joking or not, the idea of Hawke spanking me sent shivers racing up and down my spine.
It felt naughty. Forbidden.
Hot.
I was pretty sure my nipples were now on full display, distorting the poor little gingerbread people.
The way Hawke stared at my mouth wasn’t helping matters.
I swallowed and grabbed my water, chasing down the mushroom with a big gulp.
“Your turn.” Hawke set down the fork and leaned back in his chair. “Based on the sheer amount of crap you packed into that car, I’m guessing you don’t live close by. Or you’re even more high-maintenance than I thought.”
I shifted in my chair, attempting to relieve some of the pressure building up between my thighs, but it was useless.
“I grew up in Denver,” I said. “My family’s all still here. But I moved to New York for college and ended up staying. And unlike you, I’mnota retired, ball-scratching, alcoholic, porn-watcher. I actually have to work for a living.”
“Pffft. Whose fault is that? Sounds to me like someone needs to reevaluate her life choices.”
“Nah, I love my work. I have my own business designing and building websites. I set my own schedule, my clients are awesome, and I get to be creative and analytical at the same time. Dream job—seriously.”
“That’s the kind of work you can do from anywhere, though. Why would you pick the most crowded, expensive city in the country? Not to mention a prime target for all sorts of shit you can’t even imagine.” Hawke shook his head and leaned forward, his face turning grim and serious. “Tell you this much, Cupcake. Shit goes down? New York is thelastplace you wanna be.”
“Who’s the cupcake now, tough guy?” I rolled my eyes. “Shit goes down there every day. I could tell you stories you wouldn’tbelieve. And it’s notthatexpensive—I have a roommate.”
“Yeah? What’s her story?” Hawke drained his whiskey, then poured himself another shot. “Tell me it involves pillow fights, mutual showers, and walking around the apartment naked, otherwise I honestly don’t care because I’m sticking with my version.”
I rolled my eyes. “Hisstory is he’s an architect. I don’t see him all that much because he works even more than I do.”
“His?” The muscles along Hawke’s jaw ticked. “Your roommate is a dude?”
“That’s how he identifies, yes.”
