Fridays—”
“Is there a point to this?” And please, God, could she get to it?
“I just thought Rosalie might know what you like to eat. I hate eating alone. It’s worse than drinking alone.”
No, it wasn’t. He’d done plenty of drinking alone. Eating was a cakewalk compared to it.
“But she was totally useless.”
Oh. That redhead.
“You could save me some time and tell me what you like yourself.” She tried a brilliant smile. It lasted a lot longer than other people’s when they made the mistake of aiming one at him. Only hers melted into a narrow-eyed snarl. “Are you seriously going to be this much of a pain in the ass?”
“ I’m not the pain in the ass of this situation.” Why he answered her, he didn’t know. He hadn’t meant to.
As he feared, she took it for encouragement.
“There’s got to be something you like to eat.”
Fifteen years of MRE dried food packets had a way of sucking preferences out of a guy. But that wasn’t why he wasn’t about to eat anything this woman brought him. “What makes you think I’d trust you with my food?”
She blinked, taken aback. “You think I’d poison you?”
“You’re not strong enough to take me out otherwise.”
Now she laughed, laying her elbow on her folded knee and leaning into her own palm, cradling her neck. “Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, big man.”
Against his will, the comment caught his interest. He looked her up and down again, this time with a critical eye. There was a lot of definition to her arms, which were bare thanks to her thin black tank top. She was strong, he already knew that from the hold she’d kept on him back at the Carter house. Long, lean muscles didn’t deter from her femininity, but now he had to wonder how she kept herself in shape. God knew her diet sucked. She raised her fist for him to look at, the knuckles larger than he would have expected, but he’d seen her sleek fluid movement when she walked. Light on her feet, even in her high-heeled boots.
“Boxing?” he guessed, thinking of that bounce she had.
A slow nod. “Started there. You don’t grow up where I did without learning to throw a punch or two.”
“And then…” Because he was actually curious.
“Well, there was this guard in juvie. She had it in her head that training us to box instead of bash each other’s heads in might help our aggression.”
“Did it?”
“Hell no, we just knew how to beat the shit out of each other better.” Why did her laughter actually tease the corners of his mouth? “I got pretty good at it, though, and the others messed with me a little less. I found out about kickboxing a couple years later and that worked even better for me. Full body contact, you know? Your legs are the strongest part of you and let me tell you, no one sees a shin coming.”
He found the same thing true about a headbutt.
She shrugged when he didn’t answer. “Then mixed martial arts got popular and suddenly there were all kinds of fun things to learn. I can relocate your kneecap to the back of your throat if you piss me off. You know, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
“Well, who isn’t?” He had to look down when she cracked up at that. Last thing he needed was her thinking she was getting to him.
“It’s a definite plus in my line of work.” She wiped carefully under her eye, removing the moisture that had come from her laughter without affecting her makeup. Incongruously girly move for her, but he found he couldn’t look away again.
“The line of work where you serve a pack of violent criminals?”
Her left eye squinted at him. “You’re getting judgy again, deputy.”
So?
She sighed. “Have you done your reading on the MC yet?”
He had, the most recent files anyway. “Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, because you still don’t seem to know who you’re dealing with?”
On the contrary, he knew exactly who he was dealing with. Which was why he refused to look away from the
“Is there a point to this?” And please, God, could she get to it?
“I just thought Rosalie might know what you like to eat. I hate eating alone. It’s worse than drinking alone.”
No, it wasn’t. He’d done plenty of drinking alone. Eating was a cakewalk compared to it.
“But she was totally useless.”
Oh. That redhead.
“You could save me some time and tell me what you like yourself.” She tried a brilliant smile. It lasted a lot longer than other people’s when they made the mistake of aiming one at him. Only hers melted into a narrow-eyed snarl. “Are you seriously going to be this much of a pain in the ass?”
“ I’m not the pain in the ass of this situation.” Why he answered her, he didn’t know. He hadn’t meant to.
As he feared, she took it for encouragement.
“There’s got to be something you like to eat.”
Fifteen years of MRE dried food packets had a way of sucking preferences out of a guy. But that wasn’t why he wasn’t about to eat anything this woman brought him. “What makes you think I’d trust you with my food?”
She blinked, taken aback. “You think I’d poison you?”
“You’re not strong enough to take me out otherwise.”
Now she laughed, laying her elbow on her folded knee and leaning into her own palm, cradling her neck. “Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, big man.”
Against his will, the comment caught his interest. He looked her up and down again, this time with a critical eye. There was a lot of definition to her arms, which were bare thanks to her thin black tank top. She was strong, he already knew that from the hold she’d kept on him back at the Carter house. Long, lean muscles didn’t deter from her femininity, but now he had to wonder how she kept herself in shape. God knew her diet sucked. She raised her fist for him to look at, the knuckles larger than he would have expected, but he’d seen her sleek fluid movement when she walked. Light on her feet, even in her high-heeled boots.
“Boxing?” he guessed, thinking of that bounce she had.
A slow nod. “Started there. You don’t grow up where I did without learning to throw a punch or two.”
“And then…” Because he was actually curious.
“Well, there was this guard in juvie. She had it in her head that training us to box instead of bash each other’s heads in might help our aggression.”
“Did it?”
“Hell no, we just knew how to beat the shit out of each other better.” Why did her laughter actually tease the corners of his mouth? “I got pretty good at it, though, and the others messed with me a little less. I found out about kickboxing a couple years later and that worked even better for me. Full body contact, you know? Your legs are the strongest part of you and let me tell you, no one sees a shin coming.”
He found the same thing true about a headbutt.
She shrugged when he didn’t answer. “Then mixed martial arts got popular and suddenly there were all kinds of fun things to learn. I can relocate your kneecap to the back of your throat if you piss me off. You know, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
“Well, who isn’t?” He had to look down when she cracked up at that. Last thing he needed was her thinking she was getting to him.
“It’s a definite plus in my line of work.” She wiped carefully under her eye, removing the moisture that had come from her laughter without affecting her makeup. Incongruously girly move for her, but he found he couldn’t look away again.
“The line of work where you serve a pack of violent criminals?”
Her left eye squinted at him. “You’re getting judgy again, deputy.”
So?
She sighed. “Have you done your reading on the MC yet?”
He had, the most recent files anyway. “Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, because you still don’t seem to know who you’re dealing with?”
On the contrary, he knew exactly who he was dealing with. Which was why he refused to look away from the
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