“About?”
“If they can’t get the paint off, you’re gonna have to lean into it. Paint the whole outside neon, redesign the interior, and open as an eighties bar.” I pretended not to see his disgruntled glower and lightly smacked his chest. “You can rename itRad! Then you’ll only have to replace two letters on your sign.”
“You need to get to bed. You’re fuckin’ delirious if you think I’m doing that shit.”
“It was just an idea.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
HOT NEW DRAMA HAS ENTERED THE VILLA
LUNA
For the second time inexactly as many weeks, I would be leaving dinner and moving into a new place.
Only that time, I would be moving inwithRhys, not a couple doors down from him.
Unless, of course, he was driving me out to the middle of nowhere to strand me. That would suck.
I told him as much while I looked out at the vast nothingness around us. “If this is some elaborate plot to ditch me so you can get my plate of food, just know I’m armed, and I have no issue turning the tables. Actually, the more that I think about it, the better that sounds.”
He tried to appear insulted, but the deep dimples beneath his short beard gave away his smothered amusement. “You’d abandon me in the woods for a drumstick?”
“I’d do it for a single corn chip.”
“That’s cold, hellcat. Fuckin’ cold.”
I shrugged. “I grew up with four older brothers who were bottomless pits. I learned quickly to be territorial of my food, or I would never eat.”
And there I go again.
Running my stupid mouth.
I blamed residual exhaustion and my inner clock being messed up since I hadn’t collapsed into bed until nearly five in the morning and then I’d slept until two in the afternoon. My brain was only operating at half capacity, but I still should’ve known better. Sharing personal details of my life was stupid and risky. It blended lines that should be solid and stringent. It could make it hard to keep stories straight. And, most importantly, it could put my family in danger if I was ever a target.
I trusted Rhys—probably more than I should’ve, but I was going on gut instinct and experience with that. That wouldn’t always be the case with future undercover assignments. Actually, that would rarely be the case. I needed to be careful about forming habits that could be hard to break.
Flirting and payback for his heavy-handedness was on the table.
Anything regarding the people I loved was not.
“Four brothers must’ve been interesting.”
“Interesting. Loud. Stinky.” I looked at him. “What about you?”
“Only child.”
“That must’ve been blissfully quiet.”
“Something like that.” He glanced at me. “My folks didn’t get along, but they couldn’t afford to split. Meant there was a lot of yelling.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It got me out of the house and into the garage to restore an old rust bucket motorcycle I’d gotten cheap.”
“Did it turn out nice?”
“Not even a little. I got it running long enough to take one ride, but that was enough. I was hooked.”
