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I smirked at her little spiel. She thought I was nice looking. I was. My parents had good genes. And as much as I disliked them both, they’d created beautiful children. My brother and I didn’t have issues pulling the attention of women. What bothered me was her assessment of my angsty, tortured soul.
“How is it you think I’m mean when I saved you from a date from hell and likely prevented Jordan from draining your bank account? That was chivalry at its best.”
“Not exactly when you did all of the above at gunpoint.”
“Him, not you. I was nice toyou.”
“Questionably up for debate whether you were nice or just tolerating my involvement in the situation.”
I laughed because she was funny as fuck and cute. Heavy on the cute.
“You can label it how you want. I’m sticking with nice.”
“Ehhh…” She lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. “I still want to know why you ended up here.”
There’s something about you I couldn’t ignore.
“I like you.”
“What little you know about me, which is basically nothing.”
“Doesn’t matter how much I know, what I do know is I like those parts.” My eyes roamed freely over her frame and hers narrowed on me, bringing out my smile.
“You should do that more. It looks really nice on you. Not so angry.”
“I smile enough. Once or twice a day is about my quota.”
“See,angry.”
“It’s a business tool. Would you be afraid of a bounty hunter that smiled all the damn time?”
“Maybe. Some people smile and it’s more fearsome than a frown or hard expression.” She sipped her wine then tipped the glass to me. “But not you. Your smile isn’t threatening. It makes you more likable. When you work, don’t smile. When you force your way into my house, you smile.”
“You made me promise not to come back.”
“And you promised not to come back uninvited.”
“Doesn’t that mean you’re going to invite me back?”
“Nope, it does not. But if I do, you smile when you’re around me. That’s the rule.”
“We have rules?”
“Notwe, I have rules for you.”
I chuckled, leaned forward, and grabbed her wine glass. Since she released it freely I pulled it close and sampled the deep burgundy blend before she snatched it back. “Life is not fair, Balor Allen. And my wine is not communal.”
She stared at me with amusement flickering in her golden brown eyes. The Edison bulbs above our heads highlighted streaks that were slightly brighter, making them look like tiger stones. Her eyes stood out dramatically because of the deep, rich brown skin that surrounded them. She wore a Coffee BookNook t-shirt and jeans with retro Black Cement 2s. Her style matched my fly but why the hell did I care how she dressed or what her style was?
Because you’re feeling her.
“You’re pretty as hell.”
“And you’re equally handsome.” She smiled as her lips met her glass. After she sipped she added, “You also smell really good but if the world ended today, those are details that wouldn’t mean a damn thing.”
“What would mean something then?”
“If we made each other feel something. Looks are superficial but when that time comes what matters the most is how people made us feel.”
