A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,96
he liked, and a ridiculous T-shirt that had an excited-looking sugar cube saying YOU’RE SO HOT to a grinning cup of coffee.
She wore her white-blond hair in a braid and, apart from a coating of pink lip gloss, no makeup. Those pale blue eyes of hers watched him from behind her deeply unfashionable black-rimmed glasses.
“I think my phone must be broken,” he said, casually leaning against the shelf and pulling the device from his jacket pocket. “I can’t think of any other reason why I haven’t heard from you yet.”
“I should have called,” she said, crossing her arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t. I’ve been so busy. But I got your gift. Farrell, thank you—but it’s way too generous. You didn’t have to buy me anything. It wasn’t your fault my camera got broken. I really can’t accept—”
He held up a hand. “I’m going to stop you right there. I insist that you keep it. I don’t take photos, not counting mental snapshots, so I have no use for it. Just do me a favor and keep it in your bag so you’ll never miss an opportunity to take an important picture. Got it? No argument or I’m going to start pouting.”
She let out a small, nervous laugh. “Wouldn’t want to make you pout.”
“You really wouldn’t. It’s very unattractive.” This is much better, he thought. Again, he had her in the palm of his hand. “When do you close up?”
She glanced at her wristwatch. “At six.”
His phone told him it was five forty-five. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know what dinner is, right? It’s what people usually eat several hours after lunch, when they get hungry again.”
A smile nudged at her lips, but she seemed to fight it. “I know what dinner is.”
“You have to eat. And I just happen to be here, browsing through all these books and getting hungry. . . .”
“No graphic novels here, I’m afraid. I keep telling my mother to order some in.”
So she remembered that little personal detail about him. Nice. “I can read books without pictures in them if I have to.”
“Good to know.”
She was playing hard to get today, but he did enjoy a challenge. He knew he could get every little secret detail of her life out into the open tonight.
“There’s a sushi place just around the block if you’d like that,” he said. “Or we could go for Italian if you’d prefer.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Sushi’s my favorite food.”
He raised his eyebrows as if remotely surprised by this well-known fact about Crystal Hatcher. “Really? It’s my favorite, too. See? I knew we had tons in common. This just proves it. Come on, close up the shop, and let’s go.”
Finally, she uncrossed her arms and his gaze again went to that silly T-shirt. The breasts beneath it, however, weren’t silly at all. She had a much lusher body than the stick-thin Felicity did.
“All right,” she finally said.
He felt it then. Victory awaited him, only a few pieces of sushi away.
“Grey Goose on the rocks,” Farrell said after they’d been seated. Crys had only ordered a glass of water to go with their appetizer, and he’d decided he wouldn’t put pressure on her to order a real drink.
Maybe later.
“We don’t stock that brand,” the waiter said.
Farrell blinked. “Excuse me?”
“We stock a variety of other vodkas, including Belvedere, but we don’t have Grey Goose. Do you really care?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t ask. I’m not willing to take a substitution.”
The waiter shrugged. “Sorry, but I can’t help you.”
The shrug annoyed him deeply. It wasn’t a matter of drinking another brand of vodka when his preference wasn’t available. It had happened before, of course.
But Farrell wanted what he wanted.
Presently, it seemed vitally important to him to prove a point, here and now, to this apathetic waiter.
“Actually, you can help me.” Farrell reached into his wallet and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Go to the nearest liquor store, buy a bottle of Grey Goose for me, and keep the change.”
The waiter frowned down at the bill. “I have six tables to look after. I can’t just leave at the drop of a hat.”
“I’m not asking you,” Farrell growled, hot anger rising in his chest. “I’m telling you.”
Wait. What was he doing? He glanced at Crys to see a look of growing alarm on her face.
His emotions had been unpredictable since he’d been given the mark. They ran either hot or cold. He’d have to keep a close eye on that.