I frowned. “You think one kiss fixes things?”
“No. But it might remind her what she’d be leaving.” His mouth brushed the corner of mine.
I swallowed hard and looked away, because if I kept staring at him, I might do something embarrassing like drag him back to me by that expensive tie.
“And then, the husband gives her space to decide what she wants to do with that. And that,milaya, is patience with spice.”
He looked so proud of himself that I could have smacked him. I crossed my arms again. “Well, your fictional husband is still aggravating. Why you even come in here?”
He snapped his fingers suddenly. “Oh, yeah. Mama and Serge are hosting a little formal thing Saturday to introduce us to the best of Texas’s underground elite. Or maybe that’s the worse. I know you’ll want new stuff and to be styled. I’m going to send you money.”
“I have money, Targen.”
He brushed right over that. “Good luck with your storyline,” he said, turning to walk off. “You should have enough to work with now.” He reached the door, then paused, one hand braced against the frame as he looked back at me. His eyes moved over me one slow time that made my stomach flutter all over again. “But if your characters need more help, I’m available for consultation.”
I let out a soft laugh. “You are so aggravating.”
“And helpful.”
“Whatever.”
His grin flashed, quick and devastating. We exchanged a few more words as he stood there watching me. Then he was gone, walking out of my office like he hadn’t just derailed my whole train of thought and set half my damn nerves on fire. I blew out a breath and moved back toward my desk.
“He so ridiculous,” I muttered.
But when I focused on my laptop, the scene that had been giving me hell all morning suddenly unfolded in my mind.
His arrogant asshadhelped.
Ugh!
I leftTheory at her desk because I knew when to fall back… sometimes. Before I walked away, l watched as she sat there, looking at the screen like her characters had pissed her off. But I could tell I had put something on her mind. Her fingers started moving again, slowly at first, then faster. I stood in the doorway, watching her slip back into her passion.
My wife loved words. She could sit in a room and build whole lives and worlds somewhere else. And I realized I loved watching. At some point, her eyes moved back toward me.
“Why you still standing there?” she asked, not taking her hands off the keyboard.
“Looking at you.”
“Yo’ creepy ass.”
“Nah, shorty. I prefer 'romantic,’” I corrected.
She rolled her eyes. “This must be the Russian Bratva version of romantic.”
I grinned. “I’ll take that.”
Huffing, she went back to typing, but a little smile curved her mouth again. It was quick, tiny, and unfortunately, gone way too soon. But it was enough for now.
I pulled her door shut, making my way back toward my own office. My phone vibrated suddenly and I grabbed it from my pocket, glancing at the screen. I did a double take.
Everly Miller-Hamilton. Real had made me save his wife’s number, just in case. I wasn't expecting “just in case” to come so quickly. Theory’s cousins weren't feeling me much. Ev tolerated me because Real trusted me, and Prime and Ajani had given their reluctant approval of me. It probably helped that Theory hadn’t asked for me to be buried on the family’s farmland. Anyway, if one of the Miller women were texting me, I was gon’ pay attention. They were all close, as thick as thieves. And that was saying something, coming from a man who now belonged to a literal “brotherhood of thieves.”
I swiped my text app open.
Everly:
I don’t know if you need ideas, but I’ma help you so you don’t mess this up.
