galaxy. He restrained a wince. Apparently he was very much his imperious Gre-Gre’s descendant. “I had a legitimate business transaction in mind.”
“Is that why you grabbed me?”
He’d grabbed her because he needed the shield tile. He hadn’t let her go because…
That didn’t matter. She was a match to him, but she wasn’t right.
But she smelled so good. This close, he filled his airways with the sweet scent of her skin, as fresh as the open planetary air. He closed his eyes and held his breath. He would remember this moment when he returned to the Prayer ’s recycled life support. Except he wouldn’t be leaving without the tile or a bride.
His eyes popped open again. “The meteorite wasn’t at the shop. Where is it?”
She strained away from him. “How do you know it wasn’t there?”
“Because I looked for it.”
Her glossy, dark eyes sparked like a sun about to go nova. “You broke in? I’m going to call—” She tried to swivel back toward the counter, but he held her fast.
“No need to call anyone,” he said. “The rock was for sale, wasn’t it?” He pulled out the credits Honey had given him. “This should be compensation enough.”
“What the—Jeez, put that away.” She shoved his hand under the counter until it rested on her thigh. “If you’re not buying a round for the whole bar, don’t flash that kind of cash.”
He lifted his chin and looked down at her. “Do you think anyone here would challenge me for it?”
Her lips pursed, just for a moment, long enough to draw his gaze downward… “No.” She drew out the word slowly. “But why take the risk?”
Because risk had been his only life for so long. But not anymore. “The meteorite,” he pressed. “Where is it?”
“Why is it so important to you?” She stared up at him. “Are you an alien hunter like Mr. Evens?”
For a nanosecond, exultation shot through him. She did know about aliens! The data-cube hadn’t been wrong. She was his match.
Then he focused on the lopsided quirk of her lips. Disappointment and dismissal. She might say the word, but she didn’t know the truth.
He settled back on his heels. “The cash is yours,” he said tightly. “The reason is not.”
She nibbled at her lower lip. “Is it worth so much?”
“Only to me.”
Her gaze shuttled between his eyes, as if she couldn’t quite settle on which one held the answer she was looking for. “Well, Mr. Evens asks only twenty bucks for a chunk that size. To be honest, I’m not sure all of them are actually meteorites.”
“This one isn’t,” he admitted. “But I want it anyway. The sign said I could have my own piece of big sky.” He hesitated. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
He’d never told anyone that, not even Ivan and Honey. Not because he didn’t want to share with them—although he didn’t—but because he suspected they already knew. Because they felt it too. And maybe Zoe did as well. As if they’d fallen down a wormhole Ivan had neglected to chart, spacetime seemed suspended around them, whirling their molecules in a helix of unspoken understanding.
But instead of acknowledging his need, she shook her head hard, the chin-length brown waves of her hair fluttering. “I guess you can afford to be eccentric, just like Mr. Evens.” Brushing his fingers—a fleeting touch against his injured, gloved, false hand that nevertheless sent a jolt through his body—she peeled off one of the credits. “There. Twenty bucks, and the meteorite is yours.” She peeled off several more bills. “And these, since apparently I’m going to have some cleanup and repairs to do at the shop.”
Now that the shielding tile was his—or would be—he found himself unwilling to end their interaction. “Why did you resist giving me the fragment?”
Zoe glanced to either side, as if looking for an out. “I told you, I don’t like being bullied.”
“It was not my intent to make you feel bullied.”
She snorted. “You just
“Is that why you grabbed me?”
He’d grabbed her because he needed the shield tile. He hadn’t let her go because…
That didn’t matter. She was a match to him, but she wasn’t right.
But she smelled so good. This close, he filled his airways with the sweet scent of her skin, as fresh as the open planetary air. He closed his eyes and held his breath. He would remember this moment when he returned to the Prayer ’s recycled life support. Except he wouldn’t be leaving without the tile or a bride.
His eyes popped open again. “The meteorite wasn’t at the shop. Where is it?”
She strained away from him. “How do you know it wasn’t there?”
“Because I looked for it.”
Her glossy, dark eyes sparked like a sun about to go nova. “You broke in? I’m going to call—” She tried to swivel back toward the counter, but he held her fast.
“No need to call anyone,” he said. “The rock was for sale, wasn’t it?” He pulled out the credits Honey had given him. “This should be compensation enough.”
“What the—Jeez, put that away.” She shoved his hand under the counter until it rested on her thigh. “If you’re not buying a round for the whole bar, don’t flash that kind of cash.”
He lifted his chin and looked down at her. “Do you think anyone here would challenge me for it?”
Her lips pursed, just for a moment, long enough to draw his gaze downward… “No.” She drew out the word slowly. “But why take the risk?”
Because risk had been his only life for so long. But not anymore. “The meteorite,” he pressed. “Where is it?”
“Why is it so important to you?” She stared up at him. “Are you an alien hunter like Mr. Evens?”
For a nanosecond, exultation shot through him. She did know about aliens! The data-cube hadn’t been wrong. She was his match.
Then he focused on the lopsided quirk of her lips. Disappointment and dismissal. She might say the word, but she didn’t know the truth.
He settled back on his heels. “The cash is yours,” he said tightly. “The reason is not.”
She nibbled at her lower lip. “Is it worth so much?”
“Only to me.”
Her gaze shuttled between his eyes, as if she couldn’t quite settle on which one held the answer she was looking for. “Well, Mr. Evens asks only twenty bucks for a chunk that size. To be honest, I’m not sure all of them are actually meteorites.”
“This one isn’t,” he admitted. “But I want it anyway. The sign said I could have my own piece of big sky.” He hesitated. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
He’d never told anyone that, not even Ivan and Honey. Not because he didn’t want to share with them—although he didn’t—but because he suspected they already knew. Because they felt it too. And maybe Zoe did as well. As if they’d fallen down a wormhole Ivan had neglected to chart, spacetime seemed suspended around them, whirling their molecules in a helix of unspoken understanding.
But instead of acknowledging his need, she shook her head hard, the chin-length brown waves of her hair fluttering. “I guess you can afford to be eccentric, just like Mr. Evens.” Brushing his fingers—a fleeting touch against his injured, gloved, false hand that nevertheless sent a jolt through his body—she peeled off one of the credits. “There. Twenty bucks, and the meteorite is yours.” She peeled off several more bills. “And these, since apparently I’m going to have some cleanup and repairs to do at the shop.”
Now that the shielding tile was his—or would be—he found himself unwilling to end their interaction. “Why did you resist giving me the fragment?”
Zoe glanced to either side, as if looking for an out. “I told you, I don’t like being bullied.”
“It was not my intent to make you feel bullied.”
She snorted. “You just
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