Page 15 of All We Need

“I prefer my men silent.”Icross my arms over my chest, annoyance heating my blood. “Don’tyou have a job to get back to or theTourdeFrance?”

“You’re funny.”Henods down.Iraise my chin. “I’mflattered you remember whereIwork.”

This guy.

“Is there something moreIcan do for you?”Isay, ignoring his flirting, just as he goes, “Youdon’t like me, do you?”

I frown at him. “Idon’t know you.”

With a casual shrug, he pulls out his phone. “Howabout we change that?”

“Oh my god, you’re trying to chat me up, even now?”Iscoff and step forward, close enough that the scent of his body wash and something smoky fills my nose. “Thedimples didn’t work on me.Thisisn’t working on me.Andwhatever you have planned nextdefinitelywon’t work on me.Quitwhile you’re ahead.”

A coy grin stretches across his face. “Youdidn’t forget about my dimples.Thatsays something.”

“Good lord.Isthere a repellentIneed to buy to get rid of you?”Istep back until there’s a healthy amount of space between us. “You’reinsufferable.”

“My mom says it’s endearing.Plus, you intrigue me.”

“Becomeun-intrigued.Fast.”Hedoesn’t budge asIskirt around him. “Goodbye,Booth.”

“Hey, hey.Atleast tell me your name.”Hecocks his head.

He could’ve easily askedMartinfor my name the other night, and there’s a morsel of respect that he didn’t.

Ugh.WhyamIstill standing here?

“That’s not going to happen,”Itell him bluntly.

“All right then.I’lltake a guess.”Hetaps a finger on his chin, gaze tracking me from head to toe, only to linger on my face.Hisobvious perusal makes my skin tingle, andIabsolutely shouldn’t care what’s going on in that dumb brain of his. “Howabout…Silver?”

My mask of indifference slips. “Silver?Whywould you call me that?”

“Your eyes.They’rebeautiful.Theway they shone in the sun that day…”Shakinghis head like he’s getting carried away, he rubs his palms together.DareIsay,Idetect a little bashfulness.

A bit of my armor falls away at his compliment.Theirony of the nickname isn’t lost on me.Notthat he’d know that.Goddammit, he’s making me soft. “Iwas half expecting a cheesy pickup line.”

“Well,Iwas going to save them for our date.”

“There will be no date,”Icorrect and take another step toward freedom.

“ButIsuppose you’ve earned it,” he continues, likeIhaven’t spoken, following me toward the door. “Isyour dad a robber?Becausehe must have stolen those stars in your eyes…”

His voice fades as my face drops, spine going ramrod straight.It’sa silly reaction andI’mquick to brush it off, just not quick enough.

Worry riddlesBooth’sfeatures, and he takes a tentative step forward. “Shit, didIsay something wrong?Thatwas insensitive of me.Ishould know better tha?—”

My hand shoots up, halting his apology. “Iappreciate you coming by the other night to check on me.Ishould have said thank you.I’mnot trying to be rude, but nothingI’vesaid so far seems to work.You’renot my type.I’monly here short term.I’mbusy.Understood?”

It’s like shouting at a naughty puppy with the way his shoulders deflate, thoughIthink it’s more to do with the fact he thinks he’s upset me than the rejection.Asmuch asIwant to shut this conversation down,Ican’t leave him thinking that.

Hoping to ease his mind,Isoften my voice. “Mydad isnotarobber.Heworks in private equity and will probably never retire.Butseriously, this”—Igesture between us—“is never happening.”

I could probably do with getting laid.It’sbeen a couple of months, and the last guyIwas with had his head so far up his ass he forgot to locate my clitoris.

Booth has nice hands.Ibet he’d find it.

No, no, no, no, no.

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