Page 112 of The Best Shot

“That’s Ms. Brown to you,” she’d retorted, charming every customer who wandered up to the stand. An old man bought three dozen eggs. Some woman took a picture of the crooked little sign Yasmine had painted for the egg stand.

I stood behind her and let her run the show.

Then Monae showed up. Old friend. We went out a couple times years back. She said hello. I said hello. I introduced Yasmine. That was it. A two-minute conversation. I didn’t think anything of it, but apparently I should have.

The fuck was the problem?

Yeah. No.

I was up the stairs in the next second, found her with her laptop perched in her lap. She was editing photos. Not wildlife. People. A candid of Tabby and Nico. She’d been doing more of that lately.

I dropped down beside her, plucked the laptop away, and pulled her straight into my lap.

“Hey—”

I set it on the table and kept her there.

“What are you doing?” she asked, tortoiseshell glasses sliding down her nose, hair in a messy, unsettled halo around her shoulders. She looked soft. Annoyed. It nudged at that too greedy spot inside me that never seemed to get its fill, but I shoved it away.

“Getting answers.”

“About what?”

“Why you’re mad at me.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to stand. “I’m not mad at you.”

I caught her around the waist and brought her back down. “Try again.”

“Hale.”

“Yasmine.”

She wouldn’t look at me. She stared past me toward the bedroom window instead.

“Annie told me everything,” I lied.

Her head swung around. “Bullshit.”

“I’m very persuasive.” I held her eyes. “Promised her the Chevelle if she talked.”

Her mouth dropped. “She sold me out for car keys? That heifer.”

“Not completely. Just enough to point me in a direction.”

She still looked annoyed, but not at me so much anymore. I put two fingers under her chin and brought her back to me.

“Monae,” I said. “I’m trying to figure it out, and I’ve got nothing.”

Silence.

“She touched your arm,” Yasmine said finally, quiet and almost embarrassed. “Flirted.”

“She—” I blinked. “What?”

“When she laughed, she touched your arm. And you—” She stopped. Tried again. “You didn’t move.”

I stared at her. “I didn’t notice.”