“Since the day you walked in, smelling like you crawled out of a watery grave,” Aunt Midge answers over her shoulder, as I lurch toward him. Always quick with the quips, which I imagine comes from working with these assholes all day.
Lucian waits in the corner, quiet, not bothering to respond to the man, at all.
“You don’t know anything about him.” My response is directed toward Mac, but my eyes are on Aunt Midge.
“Neither do you.”
“What do you suppose a man has to tell himself when he’s staring at that every day in the mirror?” Mac chimes in again, no doubt drunk.
“The same--”
Aunt Midge cuts me off, setting a hand on my shoulder, and shakes her head. “Enough, Mac. You can keep those comments to yaself.”
Still, Lucian doesn’t say a word, and I can’t tell if the idiot’s ignorant comments are starting to get to him, or not.
“I should’ve known better than to bring him here.” Teeth gritting, I shoot a glare toward Mac that he doesn’t bother to notice, too caught up in staring back at Lucian.
“It’s not my fault he’s garnered the reputation.” Aunt Midge glances back toward the bar. “These guys are assholes. What’d you think? They were going to welcome him with open arms?”
“Okay, well, if I can’t have my opinions, maybe a suggestion.” Mac is one slap away from my wrath. “I propose the ugliest bastard in the room buy a round of drinks for everyone.”
If fire could shoot from my eyeballs, the old man would be engulfed in flames right now.
“I could certainly afford that tonight,” Lucian finally says, sitting forward in his chair. “But I suppose that’d leave you broke every other night.”
There’s a moment of deafening quiet, before the other men at the bar belt out laughter, and Aunt Midge shakes her head again, chuckling as she heads back toward the bar. “All right, now that deserves a round.”
Mac shakes his head, burying the next smartass retort in his beer glass.
Still fuming, though, I make my way toward the table, knocking the old man in the shoulder along the way, and take my seat across from Lucian. “Here, I thought I had to protect you.”
“You underestimate my bastardly charm.”
“Indeed.”
Aunt Midge sets a mug of beer in front of Lucian. “What can I get the two of you to eat?” She nudges my shoulder. “Already know what you want.”
“I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
“Two bowls of cat piss. Comin’ up.”
Frowning, Lucian leans back in his chair. “What?”
“I think she’s trying? It’s hard to tell with her sometimes.” I chuckle, staring back at him.
Tipping back a sip of beer, Lucian grimaces when his throat bobs with a swallow, and he sets the glass down. “Speaking of cat piss.”
“Yeah, everyone here calls it Nasty Light. I probably should’ve warned you.”
It takes twenty minutes for our meal to arrive: two Cokes with two sloppy lobster rolls, and when I bite down into mine, I realize how long it’s been since I’ve had the non-gourmet variety of food. Closing my eyes, I savor the taste of familiarity, the flavors of Aunt Midge’s cooking, and let out a quiet, “Mmmm.” When I open them, Lucian is watching me, his jaw slowing working the food as he chews.
“You eat like you’re making love to it.”
“I missed Aunt Midge’s cooking. And I like food.”
“I like a number of things that I don’t indulge in as passionately as you with that lobster roll.”
“That’s a shame. You should always approach the things you enjoy with passion.”
Setting the lobster roll down, imperfectly perfect lips smile again, and I know he has another punchy comeback ready to go. Instead, he studies me in silence for a moment. “I have to admit, you’re not what I expected.”
“What were you expecting?”
“Not you.”
“Good? Bad?”
“Good, unfortunately.”
“Why is that unfortunate?”
“Because this is supposed to be filler, but you’re making me curious about the plot.”
Lowering my gaze, I bite back the smile itching to break free. “What are you curious about?”
“How a girl like you isn’t fighting off every swinging dick in this town.”
I lean in, keeping my voice low so Aunt Midge, or anyone else, can’t hear me. “Maybe I like yours best of all, Mr. Blackthorne.”
His eye twitches with a smirk. “Careful. That’s how innocent girls get dragged off into the woods by the devil. Isn’t that how the story around here goes?”
Snorting a laugh, I nod. “Something like that. And is that a threat, or a promise?” Gaze locked on his, I lean forward and capture the straw with my lips, taking a sip of my Coke.
“Both.”
“Well, then, I better lock my door tonight,” I say, just above a whisper.
“I insist that you don’t.” Beneath the table, his knee brushes mine, and the way he stares down at me, licking his lips, before he bites into his sandwich, sends a ripple of excitement down my spine.
We finish our lobster rolls, and as I suck down the last of my soda, Lucian stands up from the table, dropping two hundred-dollar bills for a twenty dollar meal.
Aunt Midge scurries over, frowning down at the cash atop the bill. “I’ll see what I have for change in the till.”
He waves his hand in dismissal, sliding his hand in mine as I push up from my chair. “A round of drinks. Courtesy of the ugliest bastard in the bar.”
Mac makes a growling noise in his throat, lifting his beer in the air.
“Next time keep your mouth shut,” Aunt Midge says over her shoulder, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her apron. “Was nice meeting ya, Mr. Blackthorne.”
“You, as well.”
“And, you.” Her eyes dip toward mine and Lucian’s clasped hands, and when they fall on me again, they’re winged up with worry. “Behave, all right?”
I sneak a glance toward Lucian and smile as I nod. “Always.”
Once again, we’re back in Lucian’s car, and as he fires up the engine, his eyes cruise over me and down to my legs. “Any other errands this afternoon?” he asks, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes.
“Nope.”
“Good. One more second in this town, and I might burst into flames.”
“I always thought the devil was one to cast flames, not succumb to them.” I slide the seatbelt across my body, where it slips between my breasts, and I click it in place.
He seems to take notice, staring for a moment, before he throws the car in drive. “So did I. Until you decided to wear that dress.”
Chapter 48
Lucian
The speedometer hovers around a-hundred-twenty on the ride back to the Manor. The trees that whip past the window are nothing but a black blur beneath the moon that sits high overhead.
Beside me, Isa curls her fingers into mine, squeezing and releasing, as the anxiety undoubtedly escalates with every mile the car swallows up like a reckless game of Pac-Man. Only the quiet hum of the motor can be heard beneath her nervous whimpers.