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“I see.” I couldn’t help but feel like he was unconvinced, and wanted more.
In my own defense, that story was not strictly a lie. It was just what one might call a patchwork truth. A little bit altered, a little bit out of sequence. I’d been at plenty of stupid parties during my stint in college, but I was far too cagey to drink any frat boy’s punch. The pants being pulled off had not been mine. Rather, they had belonged to a clueless, passed out seventeen-year-old who had drunk too much and collapsed on a pile of coats. She may as well have had “prey” tattooed onto her forehead, but I didn’t have it tattooed on mine. Not even back in college. I scared men off even then.
The knee-to-the-teeth detail was for real, and so was the guy’s dental work. But that had not been my catalyst. I had already been an expert martial artist at that point.
I still wondered sometimes if that poor, drugged girl passed out on the pile of coats had learned anything from that night. One could only hope.
Ethan was giving me that look. Like he was peeling back layers and peering into the dark inside me, where he had no goddamn business looking. “Skip the creepy staring,” I told him. “It bugs me.”
His smile was charming and apologetic. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s hard not to stare. You’re beautiful. And fascinating.”
“There you go again, buttering me up.”
“It is the literal truth,” he said. “Denying it makes you look childish and silly.”
I shrugged. “The thing about looks, though. It’s just not that important. Or even real. It’s just a trick of nature, and not particularly useful to me. I can attract some attention on a good day, so for the most part, I dress way down. Baggy clothes, a ponytail.”
“You’re still drop-dead beautiful,” he said. “You’re fooling nobody.”
“And there you go again, missing my point. It isn’t who I am. It’s just how I look right now, and it happens to fit some current canon of desirability, which is also random. In a few years, when I’ve got crow’s feet and a turkey neck and liver spots and a wrinkly cleavage, it won’t fit that canon anymore. Seems dumb to fixate on it.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I see the rest of you, I swear to God I do. But I’m a mere mortal man, so you have to forgive me for loving how you look. Have mercy on me.”
I held up my hand, thumb and forefinger almost touching. “This much,” I said sternly. “This much mercy, and no more. But only if you stop carrying on about it.”
“Okay,” he promised “Just one last little thing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Here you go again. What?”
“You’re going to be a fucking gorgeous old lady, when you get there. Great bones, piercing eyes, amazing posture, snow-white hair. Full of power and wisdom.”
I laughed, in spite of myself. “You are such an extravagant bullshitter.”
Ethan smiled and lifted his wineglass. “Are you ready for that truce yet?”
I was still laughing, gaze locked with his, and my laughter melted away as his personality battered at me like a storm wind. I had such a yearning impulse to just give him what he wanted. Yield to it, relax, lean on him, just like he wanted me to, ahhhh, so sweet. To be protected, pampered, coddled, desired. But everything had its price. I wasn’t quite sure what it was yet. Maybe Ethan didn’t even know himself.
But the bill would come due eventually, one way or another. It always did.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I didn’t make all this effort and come all this way just to be your bed toy.”
His smile faded, and he set his wine down. “It’s not like that at all,” he said. “I’m just so afraid of you being hurt. And knowing it was my fault would kill me. Can’t we just work together to prevent that? Just until this thing is handled?”
I considered that for a minute. “Your brother has been gone for months now, and it’s not handled yet. I don’t see this thing wrapping up anytime soon.”
“Bite your tongue,” he said. “All I can do is try like hell. Please. Help me.”
That was a sentiment she understood. “I have to go back to town and keep up with the classes I agreed to teach,” I said. “The girls have paid for the month already.”
“On sliding scales, I bet.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snapped.
“Just that you clearly need an influx of cash to get that place up to code. I could absolutely help with—”
“Hell, no. Hold it right there, buddy. Don’t say one more word. Or you’ll piss me off.”
“How about Charlotte’s glasses?” he wheedled. “Could I pay for an appointment with a really good ophthalmologist, and get her a pair of glasses? Or actually, two pairs. She needs a pair for her regular life, and a pair of sports glasses, for her martial arts classes. Charlotte never has to know who paid for them.”
