"Prime rib?" I repeated, failing to hold back a chuckle.
"Oh, shut up," Brooke said, pulling a sour grimace. "You know you're hot as fuck. You're like six-five, two-fifty, jacked to shit, and your tan is a goddamn Coppertone commercial. Aside from all that, you have handcuffs and say things like, 'it can and will be held against you.'"
I gestured toward her, openly laughing now. "Keep going. I thrive on positive feedback."
She rolled her eyes but the motion wasn't isolated to her face. It seemed to ripple through her entire body. Every last inch of her hummed with annoyance.
"If you don't turn around and go straight to the bookstore, I will fuck you right up," Brooke said, leaning closer to stab her finger against my chest.
"Ow," I yelped, rubbing my solar plexus. "Was that a finger or a claw, Wolverine?"
"I'd call you a pussy but those things can take a beating and keep on fighting. You need to get to that bookstore. Today. Now. Run really fast, reverse time, and save me from this blasted conversation. If you don't, I'll tell everyone you don't like shellfish. They'll run you out of town with pitchforks and fire." She caught my arched eyebrow and continued, "Try me. When it comes to protecting my people and launching disinformation campaigns, I'm your worst nightmare."
"You play dirty," I said, careful to keep my voice low. This conversation needed to stay between us.
"If you think this is dirty, I won't abuse your tender mind with details of my more effective tactics. But if you ever want to know what really happened to the Sheppard Stevenson investment banking house before the housing market bubble burst, I know where the bodies are buried and I keep the shovel close by."
I studied her for a moment, taking in her white-blonde ponytail and diamond stud earrings. "The things you say, Miss Markham, they make me wonder whether I should call for a search warrant."
She reached into her tank top and retrieved her mobile phone. I didn't know whether bras now came equipped with pockets and it didn't seem like the proper time to ask.
"Do as you're told, sheriff," she murmured, busy typing and swiping.
I stared at her for a moment, not sure I understood anything I'd heard in the past five minutes. "What are you? Ex-CIA turned small town mafioso or something?"
"Worse," Brooke said, her eyes widening as she smiled up at me. "Ex-sorority president turned hedge fund manager." She regarded me as I accepted my order from Joe. "Go to her. I won't tell you again."
"Thank you for the advice, ma'am," I said. "I'll take it under advisement."
She narrowed her eyes and returned her hands to her hips. "Never speak of this conversation again."
From halfway out the door, I asked, "What conversation?"
She turned her head, just enough to stare at me from the corner of her eyes. "Very good. We'll keep you. Now, go. I have egg salad to retrieve."
12
Dissolve
v. To stir a solid food and a liquid food together to form a mixture in which none of the solid remains.
Jackson
Despite Brooke's orders,I gave Annette space.
She needed some more time to get her head on straight and I allowed it.
Today, though, this was a different story.
Instead of dodging the station and Annette's morning rituals, I turned the tables on her. Armed with coffee and donuts, I headed to her shop a few minutes before she usually arrived. I needed that time to straighten myself out. I needed to pull it together and fortify if I was going to carry on a conversation with the beautiful book mistress.
I'd spent the past few nights reliving every moment of Annette up against the refrigerator. God damn, I needed to get her on a bed. Kitchen appliances were the wrong surface for worshipping quirky women.
I was unaccustomed to wanting a woman like this. Don't get me wrong, women were amazing and delicious, and I'd desired several over the years, but that was nothing compared to the run-through-a-wall-to-get-to-her desire I felt for Annette. This was a pull unlike any other, one that wasn't entirely comprehensible. I didn't understand how she could draw me to her, body and soul, as if she was my true north.
In reality, I barely knew Annette and she definitely didn't know me. It seemed that we'd skipped over those steps, and maybe that was the problem at play. We were operating on inadequate knowledge. We needed to talk…and stay away from refrigerators.
When the lights flipped on inside the shop, I parked myself near the door to catch her attention. But she spotted me long before she reached the door, pausing in the middle of the sales floor. Today's sundress was long and white with thin black stripes rounding the bottom of her skirt. No ankles to be seen but it was angelic and sexy as hell, all at once.
