fact that uncovering her mystery meant getting close to her shouldn’t have made my chest feel light rather than its usual daily heaviness.
It shouldn’t have made me want to unravel her many secrets while I unraveled every article of clothing from her body. If Sam or Henry were here, I’d ask them to physically shake the stupidity out of me. Actually—I’d have Delilah clock one across my face. Anything to shake me from this siren’s song.
The applause at the end of Humphrey’s speech brought me back into the space, the deerstalker hats, the pipes, the cheerful conversations around me.
“Shots?” Devon said.
“Excuse me?” I asked, sure I misheard her.
“I’m walking to the bar,” she said, pointing to the back. “And I’m going to order shots. For the two of us.”
Without waiting for my response, she swayed confidently over to the bartender, and I followed her like a heart-sick sailor. Enjoy your fucking vacation. Something told me Freya and Delilah would do shots of vodka if they vacationed together. It was what people did for fun, right? A few weeks ago, the Codex team had spent a Sunday drinking beer at a brewery near our offices. Freya had threatened to kidnap and drag me to join them. But I’d declined, a hundred times, even though my only plan was to work.
The next day, as Freya showed me pictures of the four of them on her phone, I’d felt that odd tugging sensation in my chest again. A retroactive yearning to have been there, laughing, enjoying the sunshine because wasn’t that what life was about? Freya had accused me of having fomo which I still refused to learn the true definition of.
The day of my mother’s car accident was the day my entire life imploded. From then on, too many people had relied on me to ever truly relax—the teams of federal agents I used to lead, the team at Codex, my mother and Jeanette. Fun was a luxury I was happy to deny myself. And being a strong, professional leader was important to me. Bringing donuts into the office to celebrate closing cases was one thing; drinking beer in the sunshine felt indulgent and decidedly unprofessional.
Although that tendency to remain separate also brought me a large amount of fear. My father had never contacted my mother and I again, so I would never know the full story of why he left the day after his wife was in a terrible car accident. In my mind, it was easy to imagine my aloof father flipping a switch from on to off. On meant he loved his family, was dedicated to providing for them. Off meant he could walk out with nary a care in the world.
On, off.
The bartender—who bore a handlebar mustache and a checkered vest—poured, sent two shot glasses coasting across the bar. Devon caught them easily, pressing one into my hand.
“The last time I did this,” I said, indicating the glass. “I was a senior in college.” Guessing the gap in our ages, I added, “So twenty years ago.”
A lift of her chin. “An older man. I like it.”
I stared at her—the longer I drowned in those midnight eyes, the less any of my hang-ups mattered. The less anything mattered.
“When did you leave college?” I asked.
“Six years ago.”
For fuck’s sake, I’d spent the past two days lusting after a woman who was fourteen years younger than me.
“Don’t worry,” she said, probably noting the wariness in my expression, “I have an old soul.”
“And why is that?”
She shook her head, snagging her lower lip with her front teeth. “Not yet. Shots first, truth after. Unless you think I’m only capable of telling lies.”
“I think it’s more likely you’ll make off with my wallet,” I drawled.
Her eyes flashed with humor. “The truth is you were actually impressed with my skills.” She clinked our glasses together. “Truth? Or lie?”
I held the glass to my lips. Thought about how unbearably aroused I’d been that night, when I realized the most beautiful woman I’d ever fucking seen had bested me.
I took the shot. “Truth.”
And goddamn the liquor felt good going down. All around us rose the chattering excitement of the audience; music was piped in over speakers. It was a happy crowd, an academic crowd. Yet the woman in front of me dominated every sense, demanded I pay attention to her and no one else.
So I shed my jacket, unhooked my cuff-links. Slowly rolled up my sleeves. Devon arched a haughty brow. I indicated her still-full shot