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“Not nothing. Tell me.”
He rubbed his thumb along his whiskered jaw and said, “You fit in here.”
“I guess.” I shrugged.
“You talk to Savage like you’ve known him for years.”
“He makes it easy.”
“I don’t make it easy?”
“We weren’t talking about you—we were talking about Savage.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Do you tell him things?”
“Things? What things?”
“Personal things.”
“No. We just talk and joke.”
“What do you talk about?”
“You, mostly.”
“Me?” He arched a brow.
“Well, he was concerned that your gruff attitude was going to put me off. He just gave me a heads-up is all.”
“What kind of heads-up?” he demanded.
“Nothing particular,” I assured him. “He just said you had a rough past and that I shouldn’t take your surly nature personally. Which I don’t, by the way. I don’t get my feelings hurt easily.”
He snorted. “You do have certain resiliency.”
“You gonna drink the rest of your coffee?”
“It’s black. We could just go inside and get you a refill.”
“I’m enjoying being out here. With you,” I added.
Viper handed over his mug.
“Viper?”
“Hmm?”
“Is your past the reason you sleep with a knife?”
“We addressed the knife situation already.”
“No, we didn’t. At least not to my satisfaction.”
“I take care of your satisfaction just fine.”
“Stop being cheeky,” I mock-warned.
“Why? Are you afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
