In a Badger Way (Honey Badger Chronicles #2) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,72
table and asked what Stevie would like to drink, but before Stevie could answer . . .
“She’ll have an Old Fashioned.”
Stevie felt her eyes beginning to narrow on Matt’s stupid, stupid face. She’d always hated when he ordered for her, and he would order for her all the time. Part of it was to show how well he knew her, but it was also a form of control. And Stevie didn’t like being controlled. It irritated the hell out of her.
“Actually,” she told the waitress before the woman could walk away, “I’ll have a beer. Anything you have on tap.”
The waitress looked at Shen but he just shook his head.
“Your tastes have changed, I see,” Wells told her.
“I’ve never liked Old Fashioneds, but you kept ordering them for me anyway . . . when I was eighteen.”
Wells cleared his throat, then said, “So you’re looking for work.”
“No. I’m looking for a new home. CERN has been great, but I need something new. My old boss, though, has been calling me. The last message was a little hysterical. I hear you’ve got some great work going on at your lab. And awesome financial backing. That intrigues me.”
“Really? You wouldn’t mind working for me?”
“Why would I?”
“Well, the last time we met, you said you didn’t want me anywhere near you.”
“Noooo. What I said exactly was, I didn’t want your hands or penis anywhere near me . . . ever again. And that still holds. But that was a social thing. Now, however, we’re talking science, and you’ve always said you could separate the two.”
“Of course I can. But I don’t know what my labs would do with a theoretical physicist. As you know, my specialty is bioengineering.”
Stevie took her time, letting her smile slowly spread until she couldn’t stretch her face any more without ripping the skin. And she let that smile speak for itself.
Wells couldn’t hide his sneer. “Oh, I see. You’ve studied bioengineering.”
“Yes.”
“And have your PhD?”
“Of course. Four years ago.”
He looked down at his drink. An Old Fashioned. “And what brought you to that field?”
The truth was that one time Stevie forgot to eat and after fourteen hours of no food, she got what Charlie always called “the shakes.” But before Stevie realized that’s what was happening she decided she had Parkinson’s. She’d freaked herself out so badly in the twenty seconds it took her to get to that point, she had a panic attack and had to go to the hospital because she couldn’t breathe. She decided if she was going to cure her nonexistent Parkinson’s—you know, in case she actually ever got it—she’d have to study bioengineering. So she did.
What she told Wells, though . . .
“I was bored.”
* * *
Shen didn’t know Stevie could be so mean. He knew she could be dangerous when startled. He knew she panicked easily. He knew she insisted on calling him “cute” and treating him like a giant stuffed panda bear before deciding they were boyfriend and girlfriend without his consent. He knew all those things about her. But he didn’t know she could be mean.
And she was being really mean to this lion.
Which meant, to Shen anyway, that she truly hated the guy. Because she was nice to everyone else. Sweet Stevie. Known on the bear-only Queens street as “the nice one” among the MacKilligans.
Of course, this was Stevie he was talking about. She wasn’t mean to Wells like her sisters would be. She was doing with words what her sisters would do with fists or the cutlery from a nearby table.
“I see you haven’t changed much,” Wells snapped, becoming more agitated the longer they talked.
“Was I supposed to change?”
“A little humility wouldn’t hurt.”
“In science? Are you high? You expect me to be humble when I deal with men like you all day, every day? Men who seem to make it their purpose in life to convince me I can’t be good in science and math because I have tits and a pussy! My confidence is my armor. Against assholes like you.”
“Speaking of assholes, how are your sisters?”
Shen winced behind his glasses. Going after Stevie’s sisters. . . ? Probably not a good idea.
Stevie’s spine straightened a bit and even without seeing her face, he could tell that a dangerous coldness had spread over her like a blanket.
“My sisters are great, thanks,” she replied.
“Are they still following you around? Making sure their baby sister is safe? Making sure that no one else comes into your life who might get between