Page 29 of Hustle

“Always,” I reply with a nod. He gives me a quick, but very obvious once-over, and I grin, knowing it’ll make Seamus furious.

I step up to the microphone and adjust it like a pro. As the opening strains of the song play, I see Seamus freeze, and I wonder if he remembers. We had our first kiss to this song at a sophomore-year dance. I sway to the music, my eyes locked on his as I sing. My voice is low and raspy from the whiskey, and I toss him a wicked half smile.

He narrows his eyes and folds his arms across his chest, but the way he crosses and uncrosses his legs leads me to believe he’s enjoying my performance more than he’d like to admit.

I finish to a smattering of applause, and make my way back to the table at the most languid pace I can manage.

I don’t drop eye contact the whole way across the bar.

Before I can even say a word, he stands up and says, “I have much better whiskey at my place. Drinks there?”

I nod, and we’re out the door, his hand burning on my lower back. He slides it down further, over my ass. I lean into his touch, and his other arm slips around my waist. He pulls me tight next to him as we round the main street to catch a cab.

“Look who it is! Tattoo girl and mafia lawyer getting cozy!”

It’s Brooks Stacy. He gets in my face. He’s drunk already, no surprise there, wandering around like he’s the mayor and not his corrupt father.

“Back off,” Seamus growls.

“Or what?” Brooks slurs back. “I can’t wait to bulldoze that rathole shop of yours into the ground. You can stay with me if you want, though. I’m a nice guy.”

Before Seamus can say a word, I haul back with all my might and sock Brooks with a haymaker to the jaw. He goes down like a sack of shit. I shake my hand, releasing the tension and turn back to Seamus, who just stares at me with a mix of horror and admiration warring for dominance.

“Babe,” I say, touching his jaw lightly. “Don’t we have somewhere to be?”

A crowd is starting to gather so I pull Seamus away, through some dark alleyways to another cross street. When I look at him, I expect him to be furious, but that’s not what I see in his eyes.

“Goddamnit, you’re good, Evi,” he growls, dropping his head next to mine.

I look at him, quirk up my lips, and respond.

“You have no fucking idea.”

9

Seamus

The key slides into the door, and we step inside. Immediately, reflexively, I take my shoes off inside the door. When I look pointedly at Evelyn, she just rolls her eyes and then slides off her heels.

I try not to notice how good it feels to have her shoes next to mine.

“Lights on,” I command the smart home system that I installed last year. It doesn’t sound like much, but I reclaim a few minutes every day, and that can really add up to both productivity and billable hours.

It’s also just damn convenient when I want to focus on something else, like the drop-dead gorgeous woman that’s in my apartment.

Christ, seriously? Evi has already crossed to the leather sofa and folded herself into one corner. No taking it all in, no comments on the beautiful architecture or flawless decorating.

All this effort and she barely even notices. Instead, her eyes are on me, like I’m what she’s here for. No one ever comes here without commenting on the place.

No one ever just comes here to spend time with me.

I’m half pleased and half annoyed that it didn’t make an impression. I really want to make an impression on Evi tonight.

I pull out the best bottle of whiskey I have, from Ireland, and when I hand her a crystal glass, she sets it on a side table and keeps her eyes on me. Suddenly unsure, I look around, my eye going to a chair but she points to the cushion next to her.

“Sit.”

When I look at her, she’s giving me an easy smile. Her eyes are wide, and the liner is just a little imperfect after a night out. A diamond stud winks in her nose, and I wonder for a minute if it’s real. I’d buy her any jewel she wanted at that moment. The finest rings to smash into Brooks Stacy’s dumb fucking face.

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