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FORKING FIANCÉE IS VICTIM OF HATE CRIME!!!
“You don’t have faith in the NYPD?”
“I figured there wasn’t much hope of getting my purse back. A few days ago, I sat by a policeman on the PATH train, and he was telling me about budget cuts and how their resources are stretched really thin.”
“Thought you’d save him the time, huh?”
“That’s right.”
Ben didn’t respond, but he emanated unspoken opinion.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, you have to say,” she insisted.
“You make friends with everybody you sit next to on the train?”
“No. Sometimes. This guy was really nice. He gave me his card.”
“How old was he?”
“I don’t know. Your age?”
“How old do you think I am?”
She welcomed the opportunity to study his face. Hard to tell, under all that stubble and grouchiness. She aimed high, adding a decade to test his reaction. “Forty-five?”
He cut her a killing look.
“You have a little gray in your hair,” she pointed out.
“Not much.”
“And crow’s feet around your eyes.”
The depression between his eyebrows deepened into a deep black V-shape.
May smiled. He was easy to rile. “Well, how old are you?”
“None of your business.”
He growled it. Her sister would get a kick out of this guy. He was so feral. Allie loved dogs with behavioral issues. “What are you so testy about? Afraid you’re losing your looks?”
“I’m not testy,” Ben said. Testily.
“All right.”
“It’s just that I didn’t have you figured for one of those women.”
“What’s that mean?”
“The type who plays games.”
“Okay, fine. I don’t really think you’re forty-five.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I meant, I didn’t figure you for the kind of woman who pretends not to get it when a guy tries to pick her up.”
