I watched as surprise crossed his features and he muttered, “You’re shittin’ me.”
“No, real y, this is good.”
He shook his head. “You’re better.”
I felt that weird panic edging into me but it was connected with the same thril of being on the front page of The Denver Post.
“This is good,” I repeated, ignoring the panic and the thril .
“You’re better,” he repeated too.
“You don’t understand,” I sighed and pressed myself against the counter to get a little space but this didn’t work because he leaned in. I stared in fascination as his face grew hard.
“No, I don’t. I don’t have a gift. Been watchin’ yours for awhile now and wonderin’ why you don’t share it with more people.” He paused and got even closer before he asked,
“You wanna tel me why?”
“Not real y,” I answered and it was the truth.
Not only was it the truth, it was none of his business.
Not only was it the truth, it was none of his business.
I barely knew this guy!
Granted, he told me about whoever-she-was but this wasn’t share and share alike.
Unh-unh.
No way.
He stared at me.
I stared back.
He stared at me some more.
I stared back some more.
Then he moved away an inch and said, “I f**kin’ hope Mace can talk some sense into you.”
“Once this is done, so are Mace and I,” I informed him bitchily.
I watched his brows go up right before he burst out laughing, throwing his head back and everything.
I crossed my arms on my chest.
“What’s so damn funny?” I snapped.
When he stopped laughing, his face was stil warm with it and if I thought he was good-looking before, I was wrong.
Now, he was just plain beautiful.
“You are, mamita. You’re f**kin’ hilarious.”
“Am not,” I returned, sounding like a six year old and also not caring. He was freaking me out!
Hector leaned in again. “You are and I’l want f**kin’