Page 27 of Hustle

“You’re right,” I say, easing off her. I’m embarrassed now to see all the traffic zipping by. It wouldn’t do to see me making out with my client outside her shop. “Let’s have dinner, Evi. As friends. Somewhere out of the neighborhood.”

She looks up at her loft. I see her big dumb cat glowering from one of the windows. She looks back at me, having made a decision.

“Okay,” she says with a nod. “Let’s be bold and go across the river where no one will know who we are.”

“People know me in Cambridge,” I reply, “Harvard, remember?”

“Of course,” she says, rolling her eyes. She’s smiling though, so I haven’t stepped in it too hard.

Suddenly, I’m really glad that I didn’t snap at her, didn’t fall into an old, bad pattern. It doesn’t escape my notice that she pulled the brakes on my impulses this time.

“But you gave me an idea. Let’s go to that tourist trap tavern in Faneuil Hall. It’ll be full of tourists and we’ll be invisible.” I look her up and down.

“Well, I’ll be invisible,” I add huskily.

Her eyes widen and I try not to feel smug about it.

“Okay,” she agrees. Her gaze flicks back up to the window. “I have to go feed Hank. See you.” She gives me a soft kiss on the cheek before unlocking the door to the stairs that go up to her loft. She doesn’t look back.

I watch until I see the lights flip on in her apartment. Hank is still glowering.

“Deal with it, cat,” I shout up to him. Jesus. What’s gotten into me? I call a Lyft. I need to get some fucking sleep and process all this shit.

8

Evi

It’s a few days later and we’re in the tourist trap Boston tavern. As bad as predicted.

“Your check,” the server says, offering it to Seamus. He takes it with a smug smile directed at me. He thanks her, pulling out a credit card, some fancy platinum thing, and sliding it into the billfold.

“You know I can pay for my own overpriced burger,” I frown at him. He has that alpha male allure, so I’m not surprised the server handed him the check, but I’m still annoyed.

His smile broadens. “This was my idea, Evi. You got our overpriced coffees the other day.”

His smile is contagious, and I hate it, but I find myself grinning anyway. “Okay,” I say, holding my hands up. “Can I get us some overpriced, terrible whiskey, then?”

The server whisks the card away.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Is Seamus flirting with me? This definitely calls for whiskey.

He signs the slip, leaving a ridiculously generous tip. It’s good to see. There’s nothing worse than a cheap rich man. We stroll over to the Black Rose. It’s pretty empty.

It’s still far too early for the club crowds to come in. We settle down in a corner near a window, and I get us the best terrible whiskey the place has to offer.

“Ugh,” Seamus says, taking a sip. “This is awful.”

He smiles at me and sips again. “It’s perfect.”

I lean forward and kiss his mouth, almost chastely, my eyes closed. When I pull away, he looks surprised, but not in a bad way.

“You’re right,” I murmur, licking my lips, tasting both him and the liquor.

His gaze darkens and he sweeps his thumb across my forehead, moving the hair out of my eyes.

“I’m filing an injunction,” he says softly.

---