“There’s no reason why you can’t chat with someone who shows an interest in you. Because how else will you know if youdohave an interest? You need to try people out a little, right? How’d you meet the last guy you picked up?”
I set my lips together stubbornly, but I couldn’t help thinking about the last guy I’d been with—Victor, with the glasses and the button-down shirt, who’d seemed so shy and quiet when we’d met at a friend’s party, but had demanded to tie me down, literally, with the ropes he carried in his trunk the second I’d gotten him home.
Constantine might have a point about not judging based on appearances.
“What part ofnot talkingconfuses you, Ross? I’m not sure how to break it down into smaller wordsyoucan understand. Oh! I know. It’s like, if this conversation was a tiny, precious seed? And that seed didn’tshut the fuck up, so Idrove this van over it.”
Con clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh shit. Youdohave a sense of humor. It’s just dark and bitter like your coffee.”
I rolled my eyes, sipped at said coffee, and kept my eyes on the blacktop in front of us.
Constantine made an amused sound and sat upright again, outwardly complying,finally, with my instruction, staying silent and watching the trees flash by out the window… but it was too late. I was already so aware of him that his silence was more provoking than his conversation had been.
Every time he lifted his cup to his lips, it released a burst of his scent—a combination of cut grass, warm spice, and coffee that pinged every single receptor in my brain and made my gut clench. His lips were set in a small, unconscious smile and I wanted to know what the heck he was thinking about, or whether he was thinking of anything at all. Maybe Constantine Ross just had the opposite of resting bitch face. Resting… nice face?
Christ, I wasdoomed.
* * *
We pulled into the parking lot of HG Floral Supply just as dawn broke over the horizon, and I stopped in my usual spot near one of the receiving doors.
“You ready?” I demanded.
Con eyed the exterior of the building dubiously. “Yep. As I’ll ever be.”
“What’s the problem? Suddenly remembered you’re tooprettyto be forced into manual labor before sunrise?” I asked, quoting our conversation at the bar the other night.
“No.” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Though, you know, thanks for noticing.” He framed his face with one hand and summoned a smile that was just a little too tense to be real.
“What’s the problem?”
“Nothing,” he began, but when I sighed loudly, he admitted, “It’s just this place. Ross Landscaping used to get our flowers here, too, back in the day,” he said. “But they fucked up a couple orders and were assholes about it, so I let them know exactly how I felt about them.”
Meaning he’d gone off on them in an angry outburst and they refused to do business with him again. How was I not surprised?
“Well, I’ve never had a problem with HG Supply, and I used them even before I moved to O’Leary,” I informed him. “Generally, you get out of a business relationship what you put into it. Fairness, respect, and loyalty go a long way.”
“Wow. Amazing advice. Truly. I’m, like, memorizing all these little tidbits for later.” Con rolled his eyes. “My point is that Donnie and Pat know me, and they’re sure as shit gonna have something to say about medefectingfrom Ross Landscaping and working for the competition.At the very least.”
I frowned. I hadn’t considered that. “How likely is it that they’ll tell your mother, though, if she doesn’t do business with them anymore?”
Constantine sighed and scratched his head. “I don’t know. Safe to say they’re not my biggest fans.”
“Okay. So you wanna wait in the van?”
Con looked surprised that I’d offered, but I shrugged.
Itwasannoying, since the whole point of torturing myself by having Con as an employee was to actually have him dowork, but I also wasn’t quite the asshole he wanted to think I was. I’d agreed to keep things secret, and I would.
Constantine seemed to think about it, then shook his head and unbuckled his seat belt. “No, it’s fine. But can we just… not stay and chitchat?”
“Chat?” I was genuinely confused. “What the hell would we chat with them for?”
Constantine snorted. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to for a second. The only person you chat with isme.”
“I wouldn’t call what we do chatting.”
“Yeah? What would you call it? Dispensing valuable life advice?” He wiggled his eyebrows again. “A bizarre sort of foreplay?”
