Page 47 of Bad Boy for Hire
“That’s how long it’ll take if I let him stay,” he grumbled.
“I’ll be fast,” Lynx said. “Since you two are…in the middle of something.” He disappeared into the kitchen, repeating “something!” in a raised voice that preceded a laugh that was actually kind of cute.
“Don’t encourage him,” Xavier warned her.
“Sorry.” She was still laughing. “He’s sweet.”
“He’s a nuisance. I had no idea he’d be here.”
“You’re kidding. You didn’t know?” She swiped away some of the lip balm that had transferred to his full bottom lip. “He’s younger than you.”
“By fourteen years. He surprised Mom and Dad. I was an only child until him. Those were the days.”
She looped her arms around one of Xavier’s. “You love him. I can tell by your exasperation.”
“That’s love, huh?”
“Exasperation is better than being cold and dismissive.” She’d experienced enough of that in recent years to last a lifetime.
He kissed the top of one of her hands, a warm apology in his eyes. They headed into the kitchen. Lynx had told the truth—he’d been busy sorting. There were comic books, most of them in plastic sleeves, organized into stacks of varying heights. May perused the piles: Superman, The Hulk, Spiderman, Wonder Woman.
“You’re not loyal to only DC or Marvel,” she said, picking up the comic that declared Superman was dead.
“Marry me.” Lynx placed a palm over his heart.
She gingerly placed the comic book back onto the stack. “That’s the extent of my knowledge. Don’t be too impressed.”
“Too late.” Lynx grinned, which made her imagine what Xavier had been like at twenty-one.
“Ignore him. Do you want something to drink?” Xavier asked.
“Just water is fine.”
“Water?” Lynx huffed. “Let’s do shots!”
“You’re driving,” Xavier reminded his brother. “And you’re not staying.”
“Damn. Tough crowd.”
“What are you going to do with these?” May asked.
“Sell some, keep some. They were Xavier’s prized collection. He wouldn’t let me touch them when I was a kid. He hoarded them and babied them and stared at them through plastic with a flashlight and a blanket over his head.”
“Not true.” Xavier handed her a glass of water. “He’s jealous because I wouldn’t let him near them. He was five. And had sticky, jammy fingers all the time.”
She giggled.
“He’s not wrong,” Lynx agreed. “I wouldn’t have let me touch them either. But he’s too mature for them now. So he gave them to me.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Yep. Ended up getting my way after two decades. There’s a lesson in persistence for you.” Lynx transferred the piles to a banker’s box and put on the lid. There was another banker’s box off to the side, presumably the “to sell” pile. She didn’t know a lot about comics, but she assumed that the one where Superman died was a keeper.
“I’ll let you two get back to what you were doing before I interrupted.” Lynx stacked the two boxes and lifted them. “Can you grab the door, bro?”
“My pleasure.”
“Nice to see you, May. Remember what I said about?—”
