Page 18 of Hustle

But I don’t make critical decisions based on what my cock wants. Personal desires aren’t the only factor that drive important decisions like this. In fact, they hardly register.

There’s too much at stake.

I try not to think about the various hipsters I’ve seen her around town with. Skinny, pale men whose hair was layered with a decade’s worth of unwashed grease.

A dark dress skims her body, and it’s hard to keep my eyes in the professional zone. She’d look like she was headed to some office job, if it weren’t for the fuck-me heels, the extensive tattoos peeking out from her sleeves, and the heavy makeup. She’s doing that thing with the smoky eyeliner that gives me tunnel vision.

But her face is cool and composed, and her icy demeanor is like a stab to the chest. Not that anyone would be able to tell. I remember what I told her about being cold.

“Evelyn.” And now there’s more frost in my voice than I intended. “So glad you could make it.”

Her perfectly arched eyebrows favor me with the slightest raise, as if she finds both the idea of keeping me waiting and the idea that I’m annoyed at best mildly amusing.

It’s infuriating.

“Not even all-powerful Seamus Doyle can control public transportation.”

I start to say something, to fall into the trap. But I won’t let her bait me.

Her eyes are on my face, searching. Weighing, assessing. I’m starting to get a little hot under the collar with the scrutiny, and nothing makes me sweat. Nothing. No one.

Not even Evelyn McCallum.

If I keep repeating it enough, it might even be true.

“Let’s revisit our strategy,” I start, but she cuts me off.

“Seamus, we’ve been over this. Enough talking, let’s just do it.” She’s already halfway up the stairs and flinging open the door before I can hold it for her. It feels like she’s pissed at me, and that starts a tight coil of frustration in my gut that I don’t need clouding my judgment. I’m not the one who used her for a cheap thrill.

Last night? Just further confirmation that her temper and her rash decisions and whatever emotional damage she’s dealing with still make her untouchable.

But if I’m being honest, Evi’s always been able to distract me.

The grimy, aged façades of the various city hall offices flash by and I can’t help but take in her form as she moves with determination toward the clerk’s office. The woman has legs for days, and those heels are doing nothing to hide it. Finally, I push my way forward and physically put myself between her and the door.

“Please let me do the talking.” It’s half command, and half pleading, which is a note that I dislike hearing in my own voice.

She holds my eyes for a second, which stretches into a beat or two too long, and then her lined gray eyes drop to my mouth and linger there. My mouth goes dry.

Her response is a half shrug, not agreement but as much assent as I’m getting. Moving fast, I hold open the door and then quickly shift in front of her before she can get to the desk.

The woman behind the desk has a crispy ‘80s perm, thick-rimmed glasses and the warmest smile ever to grace city hall when she sees me. Half rising, a plump and intricately manicured hand reaches out for my sleeve.

“Seamus,” she says, her voice with just an edge too much enthusiasm. “So good to see you. I’m glad you’re here. Did I mention that my Lena is graduating from her paralegal studies in just a few weeks? You really have to take her for a drink.”

Fighting back a sigh, I’m flashing my best professional engaged grin. “Peggy, how are you? Look at these nails. Someone’s ready for summer.”

Next to me, Evi lets out a little strangled cough at the nails line. Listen, in my line of work, any little detail – any insight into how someone works or what they value – can be an advantage or the factor that turns the tables in a tough negotiation. And the city property clerk, Peggy, is a woman who takes her nail art very seriously.

She beams at me, and then continues, “Think of what a power duo you could be, Seamus. Can I tell Lena you’ll call?”

Peggy’s usually not this direct, but before she can finish, I’m pulling out a card that I slide across the desk. “Have her call my office.”

Another strangled noise from Evi has me quickly rushing on to add, “Depending on where she wants to specialize, I can introduce her to some great firms that don’t always post their job opportunities publicly. It’s important to get into the right firm early on to set her up for a great career, and I can help make sure that happens.”

Beaming at me for just a second, Peggy then turns her attention to Evi and stares. Her stare is beginning to slide from curious into hostile when I say smoothly, “Peggy, let me introduce my client, Evelyn McCallum. Ms. McCallum and I are here to see what we can learn about the history of the shop that she owns.”

At the mention of client, Peggy visibly relaxes. “Could you help us pull the deed history and any other documents on the property?”

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