“Pure evil. Got it.” Tyler snickered. “Hiding right here…” Tyler spread his hands. “In the middle of nowhere.”
“Exactly. He’s also hot as hell. Green eyes. A little gray mixed in with the brown,” I fingered the hair at my own temples. “Tall. Huge-ass hands. Serious as fuck.”
“Huge-ass hands,” Tyler repeated. “How oddly specific.”
“What? No. It’s just… a fact.” Though thinking about his hands for too longdidmake my heart rate kick up weirdly. “He’s really confident, but grumpy. Never smiles, never laughs. And he’s got these mind-reader eyes that can see your soul. Every terrible thing about you. He’s basically like this giant calmrock. You know?”
“I know exactly. The friend I mentioned is exactly that,” Tyler said. He paused for a second. “Except Gus isn’t pure evil. He uses his powers for good. Anyway, go on.”
“Right,” I said, warming up to the story. Maybe ventingwashelpful. “So the first day I met him, he looked at me with those eyes and I blurted out some stupid joke—something about asking if he picked the name or the profession first. It was totally lame.”
“His name?”
“Yeah, he works with plants, and his last name is…” I waved a hand. “Whatever. That’s irrelevant, too. Suffice it to say, he totally threw me off balance, and ever since then, he can’t evenseeme without getting pissed off.”
“Really. And you see him a lot?”
“Oh yeah. For business things. Farmer's markets and festivals and stuff.” I snorted. The shit my mother made me do.
“And he just randomly glares at you because of this one time?”
“Well. I mean. I may continue to provoke him occasionally.”
“Occasionally?”
I scratched my chin. “Often.”
“Oh.”
“Alright, fine, pretty much every time I see him,” I admitted. “But honestly, what else am I supposed to do? The guyneverspeaks a civil word to me, like I’m so far beneath his notice or something. It gets under my skin. So… I get under his.” I shrugged.
“That sounds healthy.”
“Hey! There’s not a lot that I control in my life, Tyler. Let me have this.” I tipped the last of my drink into my mouth and then fished in the glass for the cherries.
“So, is itflirtationbetween you two?” Tyler asked, his brow puckering. “Because it sounds kind of like when I was in junior high and—”
“No,” I interrupted with a laugh. “No, no, no. Pure evil, remember? And honestly, he’s hot enough that I could get over the evil if the man had a sense of humor, but no. He’s about as warm as the refrigerator where my mother keeps flower arrangements. So, yeah,no. Hardcorenoon the flirting.”
Tyler made this pinch-lipped, lemon-sucking expression, like he was trying not to laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing! Nothing.” His grin broke free. “I was just trying to count how many times you saidno. Because there were a lot. Enough to indicate, you know,denial.”
“Trust me,” I said, slinging my arm around his shoulder. “There’s not a lot I know, but I sure as hell know when I’m flirting with someone and when I’m not. Okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed readily.
“Okay! So how about you buy me that drink.” I waggled my eyebrows.
Tyler twisted up his lips again, and it was kinda cute. Not cute enough that I was truly distracted-distracted, but cute enough that I could try to be, for tonight anyway. My ability to flirt with a passably-cute guy like he was all three Hemsworth brothers at the same time was one of the few true talents I possessed, which is why I never left The Hive solo.
Of course, my inability to maintain any interest in them—or keep them interested in me—after the sheets cooled was why I kept coming back week after week. But that was a problem so far down the priority list it wasn’t even a problem, if you know what I mean.
“Wait, just so I understand, isthisyour idea of flirtation?” Tyler gestured back and forth between us. “The arm thing and the eyebrow wiggle? Because if so, I’m not sure youdoknow when you’re flirting,” he said wryly.
“Hey! I’ll have you know I have mad game! I never leave alone on a Saturday night. Ask Jordan.”
