"Someone should say a prayer over the ashes as they ride in the wind."
Rin set the broom down, pulled out his phone, and typed something with his thumb. "It’s taken care of. Anything else?"
Deja stared at him. "Well . . . no. That’s it."
What?
I knew Deja and she was fire cracker who didn’t give one fuck about cursing a man or woman out.
She must be exhausted. That’s what it is.
Deja turned back to putting away her supplies.
Rin walked over, stood beside her, and started mirroring her movements.
Alright, Rin. You’re pushing it.
Meanwhile, some movie played out in the theater, but Kaoru, Yoichi, and I were only watching them like they were a summer blockbuster thriller.
Deja capped a bottle.
Rin picked up the next one and capped it.
Kaoru snorted.
Deja zipped one section of her kit. He picked up another kit on the side and zipped it too.
Yoichi scratched his head and blinked for the hundredth time that day.
She reached for her comb set and Rin was already sliding it across the counter toward her.
Deja's hands slowed and she glanced at him sideways. “I’ve got it. Thank you.”
Thank you?
I tensed.
Deja said thank you? To a man?
If Nika had been here, she might have fallen out her chair.
Meanwhile, Rin didn’t move away. Instead, he put the comb in the last kit and zipped it.
This time, Deja blinked.
I pressed my lips together.
Damn it. Zo might win this bet. . .and he is going to be insufferable if he does win.
Because Rin—stone-faced, monosyllabic, wouldn't-blink-if-the-building-was-on-fire Rin—was over there organizing hair products like he'd been a secret hairstylist his whole life.
And Deja—who didn't letanybodytouch her tools—was letting him.
Deja reached for the bottles of batana oil.
Rin grabbed them before her and placed them in the kit.
And her hand paused in the air mid-reach.
