Page 39 of On the Run
I scowled. “I will. He’ll be attractive because he’s my soul mate, not the other way around. I don’t have a lot of preconceived ideas about whether he’s tall or short, dark or fair, or any of that. “
Toby scowled. “How lovely, my precious unicorn. But here in reality land… I dare you to convince me you don’t want someone like that bartender with the nice ass everyone keeps mentioning.”
That was the second time he’d brought Silvio up since Rafe had mentioned him that morning, and I had to bite my lip to keep myself from pointing it out. Some people always wanted to be the center of attention. “Silviodoeshave a very nice ass,” I admitted.
“Better than mine?” He gave me an arch look and twisted in his seat to give me a visual, like I might have forgotten what his ass looked like or where he kept it.
I fixed my eyes on the water, a little turned on by his flirtation, but mostly amused. Somewhere in the course of the morning, I’d figured out that his forceful flirtation was more like a distraction—a deflection—when he felt vulnerable, so now it didn’t make me feel pressured, it almost made me feel… protective.
For all his world-weary attitude, Toby was naive enough to miss that the biggest part of what made him attractive had nothing to do with his ass and everything to do with the way he’d stuck up for me earlier, and the way he tried to listen when people talked, and the hilarious, dry-as-dust comebacks to almost everything.
I found myself saying, “You have a very nice ass also…”
I darted a glance at Toby, who seemed shocked for a second but decided to play it off. “Why thank you, dearest—”
“Just not quite as nice as his.”
Toby gasped and clasped a hand to the base of his throat. “Excuse you? What a thing for a man to say to his soul mate.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re not my soul mate.”
“Not if you talk about this ass with such casual disregard, that’s for damn sure.” He slapped it lightly.
“So, now that you know way, way more than I’d rather have you know about me, what’syourdeal? When you’re not getting into ‘circumstances’ and jetting down to Florida, what do you do?”
“Oh, the usual.” He waved a hand. “Work. Exercise. Skincare.”
“Right. Same. My skincare routine is intense. Do you have family?”
“Sure. Everyone comes from somewhere.”
“I guess you’re not close, then?” I persisted.
“I came out to my mom after a bad breakup freshman year of college, and she suggested my problem was in dating guys instead of girls. When she offered me religious pamphlets, I left town immediately and never came back, and they sure as hell didn’t come after me. So, no, you might say we’re not close.”
“Gotcha. So, what do you do for work?”
“Boring. Better topic: did you know Mase and I met back in college? Freshman year. He was my roommate.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth. Was he being deliberately evasive? Had he missed the part where I said I was stubborn?
“Cool. So where do you work?”
“New York. Ever been?”
I shook my head. “Never been out of Florida. What kind of work?”
“This and that. Writing mostly. Never out of Florida! Wow. You know, I was gonna be in the Maldives this week? You’d like it there. Plenty of water. Birds, too.”
He almost, almost got me. But not quite. “Writing! That’s an interesting job. What do you write? Novels? Grants? Musicals?”
“Nothing you’veever read.” He snorted. “You’renot exactly my target audience.”
“Oh.” Well, then.
That put me in my place, didn’t it? Whatever he wrote was clearly way above my pay grade.
It felt like the sun had gone behind a cloud, and even the breeze off the water felt cold, which was silly, really—more than silly—when I thought about it. This was a guy I’d known for less than half a day. He’d said nice things, but in the end, was it really a shock that he’d established the same opinion about my intellect after spending a few hours with me that the rest of Whispering Key had after knowing me for decades?
