Page 18 of Nash

“Careful,” I warn, “when you fight your smile, your wrinkles get deeper.”

And sexier.

He pauses before answering, “I’ll take you home. I’ll make sure it’s safe. I’ll stay with you, and tomo?—”

“Stay? Withme? In my old studio apartment with one bed, one loveseat you’re way too tall to sleep on, and a kitchenette that collects dust? Are we freezing bras, too?”

“Keep. Your. Bra.On.”

He says that with a voice so thick with taboo tension, a fire tornado swirls in my core, and I poke the flames. “I sleep nude.”

“You’ll sleep in pajamas, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, okay, Father Allen.” I chuckle. “Gird your monastic loins because I manage a sex shop, so mypajamas,” I air quote, “are another woman’s sexy lingerie.”

“Vale.” His tone drops so low, I bet his balls drop, too. “Keep. This.Professional.”

“I amprofessional.” I clip that last word. “I professionally manage the most exclusive sex shop in the South, wearing all their goods and testing all their toys to make sure they work and…”

He cocks an eyebrow. I don’t think he meant to, and shit…

He heard me.

He remembers me confessing my deepest, darkest secrets that only escaped in my manic moment, thinking I was going to die, and I can’t make him forget now.

It’s true; I don’t let anyone kiss me, I don’t let anyone love me, and I’ve never had an orgasm with a partner. I can only do it alone and … only when I think about that night by his pool.

File this under “I’m Screwed and Not in a Hot Way.” And when I think aboutthat?

“Fine,” I huff. “I’ll cut a hole in a bedsheet and wear it like a tent. Satisfied?”

“I’ll take you to work,” he proceeds. “I’ll sit with you, etcetera. Your boss knows I’m helping you with the books, so the ruse can remain.”

“The ruse? So what are you now? The Pope, Sherlock Holmes, and Al Capone all rolled up into a nerdy-looking, beefy golf pro?”

He leans forward.

I’ve pushed him too far; I can’t help it; I use snark when I’m scared.

“No, Vale.” His sexy lips snarl, and this time, he’s not amused. “I’m the beast keeping you alive.”

CHAPTER SIX

NASH

Vale is uncharacteristicallyquiet while I ditch the van and grab my Beretta before taking my duffel and black GO BAG from the back.

I signal for her to follow, and she does with venom in her eyes as I grab a set of keys to a new grey Accord from the garage wall of our dealership.

She’s right. Only amateurs drive cars that scream “criminal.”

We blend in. Our homes are in plain sight. Our aliases are boring. Our jobs, too. They allow us to infiltrate, connect with pillars in the community, and secure resources like this dealership under nameless LLCs, and more. We’re everywhere in this city, from churches to sex clubs, and we have enemies.

Enemies I’ve proudly earned.

I pull out of the car lot and turn, noting Vale pouting in the passenger seat, her arms hugging her waist.

“Are you hungry?”

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