I sit up, my heart skipping a beat. “No?”
“That sounded like a question.”
It’s getting stuffy in here. Can we open the back windows too?“No,” I say, more firmly.
“Why not?”
Suddenly, my palms are sweaty. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’re not attracted to me,” he suggests.
As if. Connor Crossbow has the kind of vicious male beauty that feels like a dagger slicing through the heart. “I’m not attracted to you in any way.”
“That’s too bad.”
I glide my palms over my scrubs to dry them. “Are you… Are you attracted to me?” WHAT AM I DOING? This isn’t even flirting. This is something else. Connor is so different. Normal social conversations don’t work with him. He seeks the truth and returns to conversations with blunt truth of his own.
Most people can’t handle the truth. Maybe that’s his issue. Expecting people to accept the naked truth once it’s presented to them.
Connor nods. “Yeah, I think you’re hot. Do you want me to pull over?”
We’re climbing a twisty mountain road on the way to the manor. If anyone wasn’t going to the manor, they wouldn’t be on this road. On the news, they said the manor is more isolated than the original Crossbow mansion, the one that burned down. If he pulls over, it’ll be private.
The thick wild bushes block the view of the city down below.
The mountain rocks show nothing on the left.
“I don’t like unfinished business,” Connor says. “I must finish things. Complete them. All or nothing. Please answer me. Either way, I’m good. Just…just don’t leave me hanging when I ask you something.”
“I don’t know.”
Connor slows down even more. “I’m pierced.”
Fuck. “Okay.”
He hits the brakes and taps the car dashboard screen in front of him. A bunch of smaller screens pop up. It’s a surveillance system. I lean in to see what’s on it, and catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s a cold lavender-and-sandalwood scent that reminds me of winter.
Connor points. “This is us over here.”
“There are hundreds of cameras.” I narrow my eyes, thinking it’ll help me see better, but there’s too much to sort through even with him pointing out where we are.
“Three hundred seventy-three views. Tomorrow, there will be more.”
I regard him as he types one-handed on the screen as if it’s a piano. He’s punching in numbers, codes, maybe. I have no idea. The screen goes black, a single white dot pulsing in the topcorner. His hand flies over the dash, producing combinations of letters and numbers. Is he coding something right now? On the fly like this?
“You run surveillance?” I ask. God, I sound dumb.
“Mmhm.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Isolating camera 67.”
“Six seven.”
Connor smiles. “Do something so I can see.”
I stick my hand out and wave.
