I pretend to pout. “What are you cooking?”
“Tacos?” He flashes a wide grin. “Or maybe we could order Chinese takeout. You choose.”
“Tacos.” I sound like such a child, but he already won me over when he mentioned food. “But I want soft shells.”
“You’re so high-maintenance. Tacos, soft shells, mild spices because you’re a big baby.”
“Sticks and stones, Nixon. Now go away. My next client just pulled up out front, so you need to get before you scare her off.”
He turns and peers through the window that takes up my entire shopfront. Hanging plants provide a barrier, and more arrangements on shelving cover the bottom, but through the foliage, I see Jess Lenaghan – soon-to-be Bishop – slowly leveraging herself out of a tall SUV.
Nixon watches her for a moment, then he turns back to me with a lifted brow. “You’re lucky I don’t want to get you in trouble. Get your phone out, kiddo. Put it on loud, and stop ignoring my calls.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I’ll come back down here every single time you ignore me.” Since he still has a hold of my wrists, he pulls me closer and drops a kiss on my cheek. “Be good. Be at the house at seven. Bring dessert.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. See you tonight. I wanna watch a chick flick, though. My choice, since you want me to be anormalgirl.”
“Mmm.” Nix turns when the bell above my door jingles, but his laughter comes to a dead silence when a man steps in behind Jess and closes the door. The man towers over her. He’s even taller than Nix, and not many people are.
My heart races again, but it’s not like how when Mr. Kincaid comes in.
Kincaid is a fighter; that’s his job, his sport, his passion. It implies that he’s dangerous and knows how to hurt people if he chose to. But this guy is dangerous in a different way. His face is scarred so bad that I experience a wave of overdue concern for his eye, though of course he’s healed up and his eye is fine. The scars covering his whole cheek and brow are jagged, cutting a deep rivet out of what should be the squishy part of his cheek, up to the bottom of his eye, then continues above and tears his brow so no hair grows over it.
The man is so ridiculously broad, he has to turn a little to the side to move through the door, and now as he stands behind Jess, he’s head and shoulders taller than her. His chest alone is broader than her whole body, and that doesn’t include his thick arms, so tattooed I’m not sure I seeanybare skin at all.
There’s a shame-filled part of me that’s tempted to ask Jess if this is a burglary, and if she’s being held against her will, because the petite platinum blonde standing right beside this… well… thisthugseems so out of place.
I’m a horrible, judgmental human being, but I still step back and allow Nixon to shield me a little. I still cast a glance toward the back of the store as though I have a couple policemen back there that might help.
Spoiler: I don’t.
And for the first time in my life, I wish I’d listened to my brother when he insisted I carry a weapon in my purse and use it first, ask questions later.