Riddick shrugged. “Not my problem.”
Fuck.
I was going to have to ask to switch off closing if he was going to insist on starting so early every day.
He was staring at me, his face an impassive wall, and I knew he was challenging me to argue with him.
I nodded and saluted him, not wanting to give him an excuse to accuse me of not being committed.
“Yessir. Five AM. I’ll be ready.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“A few other things.”
I grinned, perking up. “Yeah? I’m all ears!” I wished I had a notebook to write down whatever sage wisdom I was sure he was about to impart upon me.
His frown deepened, but he continued as if I hadn’t said anything.
“If we’re going to do this, there will be rules.”
“Yeah, you already said.” I nodded, pretending to zip my mouth shut.
His expression remained blank and serious. I had the distinct feeling he was watching me closely, and my reaction to his next words was important.
“From now on, you’re not to drink, smoke, or party.”
Was that all? I shrugged.
“No problem. I don’t drink anyway.”
Riddick’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You don’t?”
I shook my head. “Nuh-uh. My mom was killed by a drunk driver. I haven’t been interested in alcohol at all since then. I don’t smoke either. The sober life is the life for me.”
For a split second, I thought his ice-blue eyes softened, but I must have been imagining it because I blinked, and the next second, his expression was hard as stone again.
It made my stomach feel all twisty.
I wanted him to be impressed that I didn’t drink. I had the feeling he was, but I needed him to validate my suspicion.
I wasn’t sure if it was from watching him surf all day or the fact that he was probably the first person I had ever met who didn’t immediately warm up to me, but I needed his approval like I needed my next breath.
“Fine. One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“No fucking.”
I felt like he’d physically struck me.
“W-what?”
“I don’t repeat myself,” he said, turning on his heel and taking his board toward my lean-to.
“Wait! No fucking? Why not?”
