Forbidden Fruit (Shannon Cheney) - By Ann Aguirre Page 0,24
her moving away.
“You can’t do this, Shan. Your life wouldn’t be your own…Twila will keep you on call twenty-four seven. And she won’t have a reason not to kill people. It’ll become more efficient to dispatch her enemies and question them after death. Can you imagine the toll it’ll take on you?”
Not to mention the jump in murder rate. I didn’t think of that, but it makes sense. Twila doesn’t run Texas by being gentle and generous with her rivals. I push out a sigh. “Then I have to turn her down.”
“I think so.”
When she returns, I decline her offer with as much courtesy as I can muster. Whatever she thinks of this, she only inclines her head. “The offer will remain open until the situation is resolved, one way or another.”
Fuck, that sounds ominous.
Once we’re back in the bar, Jesse wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “Try not to worry. We’ll figure this out. She’s just trying to spook you.”
“It worked,” I whisper.
He rubs my back gently. “I know, honey. Let’s go home.”
Ten
The return trip is much quieter; I don’t feel like joking around. Though it takes a lot to depress me, I can’t shake the feeling that something major’s about to go down—and maybe I would’ve been better off throwing in with Twila, who can protect me, even if she makes me do bad things. Yet I don’t want to be an accomplice in her dark business, either. This would be the classic rock-versus-hard-place dilemma, and I get to be the squishy thing in the middle.
“Hey,” Jesse says, as we exit the highway and drive through the dark Laredo streets toward his apartment. “You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?”
I feel like saying I understand he’ll do his best to protect me, but there are no guarantees…and I don’t expect him to be my hero. I just want him to be the man in my bed. Hell. I’ll eat a quart of ice cream if he makes me sleep on the couch again.
“Thanks,” I manage to reply.
“I know you’re scared. Sad. Confused, too, unless I’m reading you wrong.”
“No, that covers it.”
“What can I do to make it better?”
Despite myself, I grin. “Are you really asking me that?”
“Shan. I’m being serious. Sex won’t fix your emotional—”
“Couldn’t hurt. It produces endorphins, you know, and those improve your mood. Doctors have proven that orgasms help with headaches, too.”
“So I can expect you to say, definitely tonight, baby, I have a headache?”
“You could stop at definitely tonight and you’d be covered.”
It’s easier for me to put aside the bad mood when he’s smiling. My breath hitches a little when his dimple puts in an appearance, creasing his lean cheek. He’s wearing cowboy boots, and I’m discomfited at how hot I find him—from the softly worn chambray shirt to the faded Levi’s, down to those battered boots. He’s all Texas sexy, and I’m incapable of resisting him. To look at me, you’d guess I go for thin, sensitive types with dyed black hair, partial to basements and bad poetry, but no. I’ve never had an eye for pretty emo boys in guyliner.
Jesse parks the car, still amused. He grabs my bag from the back, then comes around to open my door. I follow him up to his apartment, which is even cleaner than the last time I visited. It smells of lemon furniture polish and…air freshener? Yep, there’s a deeper citrus scent circulating.
“Aw, you got me a Glade PlugIn. You shouldn’t have.”
“Anything for you.” He quotes back my words, and I wonder if he means them as fully as I did. My heart clenches a little at the possibility.
“Smooth talker. Is my toothbrush still in the bathroom?”
He draws in a sharp breath, as if he hadn’t thought of it that way before. “Yeah. It’s in the glass next to mine.”
“Then I’ll get changed and wash up.”
There’s no way he can understand how momentous this is. I’m going to take off my makeup before he sleeps with me. I’ll sit and talk with him, barefaced. Naked. My heart is pounding so fast as I take my bag from him and head down the hall to the bathroom. I lean against the door, nervous but also excited. If I want everything from him, I must be willing to give it back.
Still, I take my time with my nighttime routine, and it’s hard to work up the courage to step into the hall. With all of the kohl, eyeshadow, lipstick,