him, black hair tucked under a battered hat, a pair of cheap sunglasses that shielded his gaze from her. He wore a threadbare t-shirt and jeans so worn, they were practically white at the seams. Damn, he wore those jeans well, too.
Because the view was making her throat go dry, she reached for the bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade at her side and took a long drag off of it as she shifted her attention to other things. Like the backpack he was carrying. Like the boy.
Her other target.
Two males and both of them were too damned pretty. Family, they had to be, although Jones’s information on them was sketchy.
The boy was already every bit as pretty as the guy walking next to him, although he couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen. He’d break hearts when he was grown, she suspected. His name was Alex, and he had the angriest, saddest eyes she’d seen on a kid in a long, long while. They were a pale, misty sort of gray—set against his dusky skin, those eyes packed even more of a punch.
Yeah. He was going to break hearts, she thought. And she had a feeling he’d be breaking hers before this job was done. Babysit. What in the hell was going on here?
That gaze of his was a punch right to her heart. One that might shatter it, because while she couldn’t read emotions worth shit, she knew what fear looked like. The boy was ripe with it. He had so much fear inside, it hurt to look at him. So much cynicism, she figured she probably would have looked idealistic in comparison.
And even without lowering her shields, she felt the wide-open power of his mind.
Damn.
That kid was practically a lighthouse on the shore in the middle of a raging storm.
All it would take was the wrong person looking for him . . .
A babysitter. Hell, what he needed was a bodyguard and a teacher. She might be able to handle the bodyguard job as long as there was nothing major going on, but she wasn’t equipped to teach a kid like that.
Mr. Gus Hernandez pushed his battered cap back and gave her a sleepy smile. “Hi there,” he said.
Okay. If the boy’s eyes ripped at her, the man’s eyes were going to put her on her knees, but for all the wrong reasons. Wow. If she’d thought the kid’s eyes packed a punch . . . hell.
This guy’s gaze was enough to put her out for the count. The color of the mists that hovered over the river in the morning, that was what his eyes made her think of, a surreal shade of gray and so unbelievably beautiful, shocking pale against the warmth of his olive-colored skin. But it wasn’t just the unnatural beauty of those eyes . . . the kid had that.
The man, though, he had a look in his eyes that made her throat go dry.
Sleepy and sexy, like he’d just tumbled out of bed but he’d be more than happy to tumble right back in. Since he was looking at her, the idea was probably supposed to be that he was going to tumble into bed with her, but she knew better.
That look was practiced. Way too practiced and she knew it. Still, it was a good look, and she might as well enjoy it. His smile, too. She was a little disturbed to realize that smile of his was making her feel all warm and tingly down in parts that were not supposed to be an issue, considering she was on a job.
He knew what effect he had, too. She could tell. It wasn’t arrogance or anything, but he knew. Hmmm. A player? That was a harder puzzle, but she’d figure it out.
He was playing at something, but what was it? That was the question, indeed.
Taking another sip from her bottle, she tipped it at him. “Hey back.”
The boy shot her a look from under his lashes and lowered his head. As he shoved his hands into his pockets, she felt it. A ripple of his gift, rolling across her.
She didn’t react.
He was young and unless he’d encountered a lot of psychics, it was unlikely he’d recognize one if she wasn’t using her ability. Which she didn’t plan to do. Keeping her own thoughts tucked back behind a blank shield, she projected an air of boredom, exhaustion, and because he probably was used to it, she thought a few rather female thoughts