Page 37 of Pretty Lies

Cory grabbed the sides of each zipper and opened the jacket up a bit while staring at her. She refused to look at him, then, paying more attention to the road since they were finally off the bridge and now, she had a sea of cabs in front of her.

Jesus.

“What’s wrong with my jacket? It’s vintageSaint Laurent. It’s scuffed and worn and broke in because that’s what you do to a jacket like this. It’s what makes it a staple.”

Yeah, she knew that.

All about it, in fact.

And if she were being an honest woman, she would say his jacket with the YSL patch on the chest, the row of safety pins along the pocket, the white FUCK U graffiti on the left wrist of the sleeve, and slightly frayed belt kind of pulled his entire vibe together. She liked it. Far more than she should.

“This jacket was the shit when I was young and stupid, damn,” Cory muttered, settling slightly but not looking her way now. “Our whole group of friends fought over it for years—if you could take it off somebody and put it on yourself, it was yours. Finally got it when I was sixteen. It was a size too big back then, but I didn’t care. A soul hasn’t taken it off me yet.”

And they wouldn’t, she bet.

Della huffed. “I like the jacket.”

His crooked grin from the side caught her eye.

She didn’t acknowledge it.

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

Then, he laughed a sound that was enough to make Della’s air catch in her throat. His gaze slid toward her, his eyes an icy in the morning daylight yet still blazing with heat, when he said, “Just say what it is, yeah?”

“What, what is?”

Cory’s tongue snaked out to lick along his bottom lip, a grin curving that too-sexy mouth of his in a grin when he told her, flat-out and unashamed, “You know, woman. That we just had a whole conversation about my jacket so that we wouldn’t have to talk about the fact you got in your feelings that I was on the phone with Monica.”

He flipped his phone around and held his hand high for her to see the picture of a dark-haired, teenage girl taking a selfie with a rottweiler. Never once did he move his gaze from the road ahead of them, entirely unbothered.

That annoyed her more. Especially because she had to look twice to make sure she was seeing what she was seeing on the text message thread, and she was sure he didn’t miss her doubletake. Wasn’t it supposed to be her making his life hell?

“Yeah, little Mon. Who is also my baby sister, by the way,” Cory added, finally glancing at her with a pleased smirk. “She’s keeping an eye on my dog, Mace, this week. Depending on how long this job for your father takes me, she might keep him a little longer.”

Then, Cory tucked his phone away and readjusted himself in the seat, so he could lean one arm against the door while he watched her drive. That was not better for Della at all. “So yeah, that thing you did—back to that. Let’s talk about that.”

Shame raced through her.

It might have felt a little good, too.

Cory winked.

“Fuck you, Rossi.”

“Yeah, babe, maybe.” He flashed his teeth and nipped the air before he added, “Later, if you’re really good.”

Della went slack-jawed.

The nerve on him.

Cory’s hot, heady laughter filled the car. Why did he have to look like that when he laughed? All sin and good looks with charm and charisma wrapped up in black denim and leather? Never had the world threw a challenge at her quite like this man.

“I’m fucking with you,” he said after his chuckles died down, his stare flicking up and down her from the side while she tried to pay attention to the road. Traffic was getting thick. “But you don’t look like you mind that much. Gotta pass the time somehow, right?”

At least he was honest.

“Honestly, I only got in my feelings, as you said, because I thought you were being a shit. It’s just … women need to watch out for each other. And yeah, I didn’t know if that’s what you were doing. Whether you had somebody waiting on you while you chased ass across the city, that’s all. Or if you were that kind of guy, I guess.”