Page 41 of Villainous Summer

An older man walked in and consulted with Ana about their patient. He asked Van a few questions, approved Ana’s job of cleaning the wound, and said he would give him two stitches.

I could feel the hitch in Van’s breath.

By the time the nurse practitioner had brought out the tools, I faced him and as low as I could and directed him to look at me.

“Oh, I can’t watch. Look at me and don’t let me turn around, okay?” I declared loud enough for them to hear me. Placing another hand on top of his, I squeezed his palm, rubbing my thumb over the line of scars on his knuckles.

His gray eyes were hard, steel, and basalt, his jaw flexing as they stitched him up.

His gaze didn’t leave mine, and his grip vibrated almost to the point of pain.

I wasn’t going to let go. He had admitted his vulnerability, and I would not be taking it for granted.

By the time he got his tetanus booster, my hand was screaming, but I had gone this far with him. I couldn’t back out.

“Alright, all done. That was a nasty one,” the nurse practitioner announced. “I’m sending you home with a prescription of antibiotics and strict rest on that foot. Try to limit pressure on it for the next twenty-four hours, but after that, you should be okay.” He looked at me. “Don’t let him be a hero and rip his stitches out, or we’ll be back here.”

Once in the car, he was able to put the seat back enough for his knees to stop touching his chin.

I turned to him. “She’s pretty.”

“Who? Ana?” He furrowed his brow as he adjusted his legs.

“Yeah. Seems like you two have history.”

He scoffed, running a hand over his face. “Because we went to school together? I’ve known her since we were little punks. She’s married to one of my best friends. They have a kid together. I can assure you there is nothing between us. She is not my type.”

“What, pretty? Sweet? Helpful?”

“Simple. Ana is as sweet as they come, loyal to fault. Would give the shirt off her back to strangers, see only the best in even the most terrible of people. And that is fine for a lot of men. It’s great for Xander. They both deserve to be happy after the shit they went through. But I need something more in my women.”

“So, you need someone mean, ugly, and traitorous.”

“No. I like to be challenged. I like the chase. I want someone who calls me on my bullshit and doesn’t get upset when I call them on theirs.” He adjusted himself again, trying not to put pressure on his foot. “If I told Ana I didn’t like a shirt she wore, she would offer to change it.”

I snorted. “I’d tell you to fuck off.”

“Exactly.” He fixed his gaze on mine.

In the midday sun, his eyes were lighter, full-moon silver against mountain peaks. The space of the car was too small, the air thick and hot as I stared him down. I refused to look away first.

“Put the murder gaze away,” I murmured.

“Killer eyes, disengage.” He smirked as he looked away. “Why don’t you get me home so I can put up my foot and watch some West Wing?”

I startled at the show name but said nothing. If I were to have admitted I watched that, he might invite me in to watch with him, and I’d accept—and then what? I’d start to like him? Want to kiss him? No. There couldn’t be an attraction, not yet.

I had a vengeance plan for the summer, and he wasn’t going to disrupt it with his sexy silver eyes and charming fear of needles.

When I dropped him off, I could barely park before he climbed out. Already in reverse, I waited for him to walk inside without me.

When he knocked on my window, I rolled it down, keeping my foot on the brake for a quick getaway.

“I’ll text you about our next date.”

Frowning, I pumped the brake harder to let out my excess energy.

I had agreed to this facade of dating. A few boring work events were the least I could do. He said he was an engineer, so most people he worked with would be, too. A bunch of nerdy folks who would drone on about specifications or geometry or something.

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