Page 58 of Casita Casanova
She laughs, nudging me with her elbow.
“It’s thirteen years. I don’t see the big deal.”
She sighs again and I frown, dropping my hand from her back when she steps to her right to avoid a fire hydrant and puts some space between us.
“I’m too old for you,” she says without even looking at me.
“We have fun together.”
“We met yesterday.”
“So?”
“So…?” She shakes her head. “It’s just… it wouldn’t work. You have to know this is silly.”
“Silly?” I’m going tofuckher silly, show her exactly how well thiscanwork.
“Let’s just go eat and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
Frowning, I keep pace beside her. What’s her deal? I’ve never met a woman so wholly opposed to having a little fun in my entire life. Maybe the women out here are different. I know it’s a much slower-paced lifestyle in California than what I’m used to in New York, but still.
And the whole age hang up? I don’t get it. Women throw themselves at me from young to old. Why does Maryn care so much?
A group of people pass us, their conversation dying down as they do. Once they’re behind us, Maryn laughs, looking over at me. “Do you even realize the way people look at you?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?” She scoffs. “Just, yeah?”
I shrug. “Yeah. I look like this.”
I catch her gaze as her eyes widen.
“Humble, too.”
“Look, Maryn, there’s something you should know about me.”
“Oh, I imagine there are a lot of things I should know about you, but probably don’t want to.”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry.” She gives a sheepish shrug.
“Anyway, yes, I look like this. I always have. And I know what it means, what I can get because of it. What I canget away withbecause of it. Life’s been easy for me. And not just because of my looks, but because of who my father is. Was.”
Fuck.
I need to keep my damn mouth shut before I give too much away and she realizes who I am—and then realizes she was right to keep her distance.
“Women started throwing themselves at me long before I was ready. Long before I knew what to do with them.” I pause, waiting for her reaction to that remark. “It wasn’t always a fair transaction.”
Her brow furrows and she turns toward me as we approach a stoplight. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean…” I watch the cars drive past at their leisurely pace and realize I haven’t heard a horn since I got to California. Weird.
“Cas?”
I meet her gaze.
