Page 26 of Hustle

Fifteen years ago, I would have argued with that. Today, even though I’m not exactly a shining example, I know the value of having a richer life.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Her eyes come up to meet mine. My lower stomach tightens and I’m fighting blood flow headed south with so much force that it’s getting hard to talk. Even the way that she reads Tarot cards seems to be a turn-on now.

She slides the pack of cards back into her bag with a little shrug and then answers the question. “Here and there. It’s an interesting way to get a different perspective, to find a different lens through which to view life and answer questions. Beyond that, who knows?”

I don’t, but The Lovers was pretty spot on. A moment of silence drags on a little too long, and she’s sliding on her coat. My stomach clenches, like I can’t bear the thought of her leaving or the thought of her leaving me here alone.

Throwing down bills, I shrug my own coat on. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

She’s starting to protest, but I’m already on my feet and shouldering a path through the crowd. She follows, and when the damp air on the street hits my skin, I realize how alive and in the moment I feel.

How actually relaxed.

My thoughts have barely dragged to work or family stuff since she sat across from me. That itself is a fucking miracle.

And wouldn’t have been the case if I’d sat there alone, drinking beer and staring off into space, going over cases. Coming up with strategies. Worrying about the future.

We walk in silence for the most part, but I surprise myself by reaching out to hold her hand. She doesn’t look at me, but I can see her smile, and it feels really fucking good. The feel of her smaller hand in mine, hot, is almost more than I can take. Combined with the relief of not feeling like an entire ball of stress, is heady. We get to her shop, and I don’t want the evening to end. I don’t want to forget how this feels.

Even if it can’t last.

“We should do this again,” I offer lamely. “I had a good time, Evi.”

She lets go of my hand and strokes the side of my face. She looks beautiful in the moonlight, like her empress, and before I know what I’m doing, my lips are on hers. She responds eagerly, pressing against me and sliding her hands up my shoulders. Her tongue, pierced with a stud, caresses mine. I wonder what that stud would feel like on my cock. It’s taking everything I have not to beg her to find out.

I press her gently into the brick wall of her storefront, my hands around her small waist. I kiss her thoroughly, hoping for once to leave her as flustered as she makes me.

I whisper her name softly into her ear, and she pulls away gently.

“Seamus,” she says, breathless. God, my name has never sounded better.

“Mm hmm?” I brush my lips across her neck.

“Let’s both be sure,” She says, even as she moves her neck to give me better access.

“About what?” I murmur.

“That we’re not just blowing off steam.”

It’s like a punch to the gut. This was a mistake. All the stress comes pouring into my body, and the familiar tension at least makes me feel more like myself.

I step back. “Evi,”

She puts her hand on my chest. “Don’t put your mask back on, Seamus.”

It hurts like hell to look at her, so I don’t. I stare straight ahead, just willing the lines of my face to stay steady.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask finally.

She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to say anything other the truth, Seamus. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

A million snide comebacks zip through my head, but when I finally meet her eyes, there’s a raw vulnerability that scares me. She’s been hurt. A lot.

Then comes the anger. What does she mean, the truth? I don’t lie. I’m a man of honor. Of my word.

But she’s not calling me a liar and I know that. Getting my hackles up is just another way of holding back the truth she wants from me. What is that truth, though? I don’t know how to separate it from the history Evi and I have. From the complications of my responsibilities to my family, to this neighborhood, and to her.

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