“Was it Viper?”
Behind her, a small fire is sparking in the microwave.
“What the hell?” I barge past her, whip open the microwave door, grab the flaming bag of popcorn, pitch it into the sink, and douse it with water.
“I guess I left it in the microwave too long.”
“Ya think? Shit, you could’ve burned the whole place down.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. It was only a spark.”
“A spark?” I point to the blackened bag smoldering in the sink. “Hate to tell you, but that was a fire, babe.”
She jerks her head to the gun at my side. “I’ve heard of bringing a knife to a gunfight, but never a gun to a fire.” She ends with an annoying smirk.
“Don’t be a wiseass. I heard you scream, and I thought?—”
“You thought you’d come in here and blow their head off?” She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. “Talk about overkill.”
“You can’t be too careful ‘cause Viper threatened both of us.”
“Viper hasn’t been around in weeks. I think he’s gotten the message.”
“Guys like Viper never get the message until they’re in the ground.”
“Typical reaction.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I lean against the counter as adrenaline courses through my body, then I flip the safety lever and shove the gun into the small of my back.
“It means, typical thug mentality.” She slams her hands on her hips. “Jump first, ask questions later.”
“I sure didn’t hear you complaining when he was roughing you up and I saved your ass.”
“Saved my ass?” Her spine stiffens, and I’m close enough to see the rise and fall of her chest and the shadow of her nipples in the sheer tank top. “Is that the way you saw it? ‘Cause I was handling it.”
“Really? What I saw was him pushing you around, and since he outweighs you by about a hundred pounds, I don’t think it would’ve ended well or that you’d have much of a chance.”
“You’re impossible.” She spins away from me and grabs the soggy bag of popcorn out of the sink. Of course, I notice how her booty shorts outline her ass perfectly when she bends over to throw it in the trash.
“I’m impossible.” I shake my head. “You walk around like you’re too good for all of us. Eating in your room every night. Even tonight, you make a bangin’ good fuckin’ meal, and you take yours up here.”
“Why do you care what I do, or where I eat?”
“I don’t.” Big fuckin’ lie. “I just don’t understand it.”
“You don’t have to understand it.”
I move closer, and she plasters herself against the kitchen counter.
“You don’t always have to be so tough, ya know.” I take a half step closer, but she doesn’t move.
My lips curve into a grin, and she scowls harder. We assess each other—the silence thick and charged.
I reach out, not to touch her, but to shut the faucet off in the sink. “Not good to waste water.”
Her eyes follow my hand, then travel back to my face. I take a half step back and let my eyes run over her. “Way different than the way you dress downstairs.”
“That’s because I’m in the privacy of my room. Or at least I thought I was until you broke my door in.”
