AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Twenty-eight fifty plus tax.”
I pay him and dump the change in the kindergarten charity pot on the way out. “Your work needs money?” I ask as we walk out.
“What of it?”
“Maybe I could help.”
“The last thing it needs is blood money.”
“You can afford to be picky, can you?”
He prods me as we walk back. “You’re jealous.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw the way you looked at him. You wanted him to catch fire. You were jealous. Holy shit, you have a crush on me, don’t you?”
I stop dead, turning to face her. “Clarissa, what I want more than anything right now is to rip your clothes off and fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow. Does that count as a crush?”
Her eyes widen. “Wow. Not going to lie, wasn’t expecting that from you. You want me that badly. What’s stopping you from acting on those impulses of yours?”
“Your roommate said she’d call the sheriff if you screamed. Could do without the complications.”
“Well, she’ll be asleep by now. She goes to bed early. She also wears earbuds with Nirvana turned up loud to stay asleep, so she wouldn’t hear a thing.”
“Thought she was listening out in case you were in danger.”
“I told her not to worry about me. You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”
“They sent me to kill you.”
“That’s not answering my question.”
“No, I will not hurt you.”
“Then I’ve got nothing to worry about. Now, are we standing here all night or are we going inside?”
Once we’re in her kitchen, I get to work while she grabs a shower. She comes out in sweats with her hair wrapped in a towel. “Need me to do anything before I dry it?” she asks.
“Cutlery?”
“That drawer.”
I set up the table, listening to her hair dryer and feeling a sudden snapshot of a life that cannot be. The two of us living like this. Sophie in bed. Us having dinner together. A family.
It would cost me Isobel. It can’t be. Can never be.
“You okay?”
I realize she’s in the doorway and I’m not moving. “Fine,” I say. “It’s ready.”
I set down two plates of pasta. “Looks good,” she says, taking her seat and pouring us out two glasses of white. “What is it?”
“Paccheri al Forno. You had it before?”
“Never.” She scoops a forkful up and chews it slowly while my gaze lingers on her lips. “Wow, that’s really good.”
“It’s better with fresh mozzarella, but I was asking too much to find that here. At least the tomatoes are good.”
