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Chapter Nine
Murder is a crime,Kris reminded herself for the umpteenth time as she, Skylar, and Nate waited in line for the Ferris wheel.You cannot murder a seventeen-year-old girl.
She liked Skylar. But after tonight, the girl would be lucky if Kris didn’t throttle her.
She couldn’t believe Skylar had set her up on a date with her brother—or that her brother was Nate, of all people.
What were the fucking chances?
At least Nate seemed as shocked as she was. He’d been silent the entire time and let Skylar gab away to her heart’s content.
“Did I tell you Nate’s an actor?” The blonde’s eyes gleamed with mischief. If she sensed the hostility in the air, she didn’t show it. “He’s been in a few TV shows and movies. You should watchFour Kings.It’s his latest movie—came out last year—and he played one of the mobster’s henchmen.”
“Kris doesn’t like mobster movies,” Nate said, handing the Ferris wheel operator their tickets.
Kris bristled at the assumption. Shedidn’tlike mobster movies. But once again, Nate was pretending he knew her—what she liked, what she didn’t like—and it pissed her off.
“How do you know?” she and Skylar asked at the same time, though Kris’s voice was far sharper.
Skylar had no clue Kris and Nate already knew each other. Kris doubted Nate had told his sister he was seducing an older woman for money—not that Gloria was much older than him. She was twenty-seven, and he was twenty-three. A four-year difference.
“Just a guess.” Nate stepped inside the gate.
Kris followed him, her blood heating at the certainty in his tone. “Well, you’re a shitty guesser.”
“You’re saying youdolike mobster movies?” Nate’s smirk made her want to punch him in the face.
“I do.”
“What’s your favorite one?”
Crap.She scrounged her memory for a mob movie, any mob movie. “The Godfather.”
“A classic.” Nate nodded. “I especially loved the scene where they put the severed dog’s head in Johnny’s bed.”
Kris’s stomach churned at the mental image. “Me too.”
She wasn’t a big dog fan—she preferred cats, who were independent, aloof, and far less yappy—but who the fuck would be sick enough to cut off a dog’s head? Even if it was fiction.
Nate burst into laughter.
Her brows snapped into a frown. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re so full of shit.” Nate grinned a genuine grin, and the sight hit her in her heart and lower belly at the same time. Flutters and heat. A one-two punch. “It was a horse’s head, not a dog’s head. And they put it in Jack Woltz’s bed, not Johnny’s.”
Double crap.
“I forgot,” Kris said with as much dignity as she could muster. “I watched the movie a long time ago.”
“It’s one of the most iconic scenes in the film and probably Hollywood history. Trust me. If you’ve ever watchedThe Godfather—even if it wasn’t your favorite—you’d remember it.”
Dammit.
“You tricked me.” She couldn’t bring herself to be that upset. Maybe it was Nate’s smile or the electric energy in the air. Whatever it was, it smoothed the jagged edges of her earlier ire until they melted into a warm pool at the pit of her stomach.
Nate’s eyes crinkled into a wider smile, and the warmth intensified. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.
“Hey, you gotta get in a pod,” the operator interrupted, looking annoyed. “Everyone’s waiting on you.”
