Mine to Keep (NOLA Knights #3) - Rhenna Morgan Page 0,54
Granted, her jean jacket didn’t look all that great paired with the standard-issue André’s uniform, but it wasn’t like she’d worn it in front of anyone. “Why? This one’s fine.”
“You’re cold.” He glanced her direction only long enough to add, “You will not be cold.”
God, this guy was a kick in the pants. Yeah, she knew he wasn’t literally ordering her not to be cold, but the weird pronouncements made her want to giggle. Not ribbing him a little when he made them was like passing up a chance to snuggle a purring cat. “I won’t?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” She waited a beat then said, “What if I like being cold?” She kept her head straight ahead when she said it, but she caught his scrutiny from the corner of her periphery.
He must have caught her smile before she hid it, because he harrumphed a second later and went back to staring out the windshield.
She chuckled and gave the guy a break. “Seriously. I don’t need another coat. In another month or two we’ll be back in the seventies. No point in wasting money.”
“Money spent on you is not a waste, and I will be the one spending it.”
Hold up.
What?
“I don’t need you to buy me a coat.”
He nodded and shifted his voice to that of a reasonably sound man. “As you wish. You do not need to.”
“Good. Glad we agree.”
“I, however, need to,” he said without missing a beat. “Therefore, you will be ready at noon, and we will shop.”
What. The. Fuck.
Were they arguing over shopping for coats? Seriously?
Maybe he’d caught onto her game and had decided to turn the tables on her.
Yeah, that had to be it. He’d probably find a fishing show when they got home and make her watch it. Or force her to learn how to unload and clean one of those wicked looking guns she’d found neatly stored in various closets around the house.
Actually...the latter option didn’t sound that bad. After her run-in with the dudes at her apartment, the idea of a concealed carry held a lot more appeal than it used to.
Regardless, if he wanted to play, she was ready. “Fine. Shopping at noon. Can’t wait. Maybe while we’re there, I’ll stop at one of those fancy makeup shops and see if they can do a makeover for me. Really change up my look. How’s that sound?”
She’d expected another grunt.
Maybe an outright refusal or a groan.
Instead, his voice softened, the tenor of it low and as thick as velvet. “You cannot improve perfection.”
Her breath caught in her throat and the quiet between them swelled to match the tight sensation behind her heart. She looked at him. “Did you...” Her mouth was suddenly too dry to speak and her mind short on words. She swallowed hard and tried again. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He glanced at her for only a moment, but the heat behind his gaze was enough to mark a woman for a lifetime. “Then the men before me were fools.”
Whoa.
A pleasant swirl pitched low in her belly even as the minions in her head scrambled to evaluate his words. Did he mean the men before him as in guys she’d known in general? Or the men she’d dated before him? It had to be the former. The latter implied the two of them had an established connection. A relationship. And while they’d been practically joined at the hip since Friday night, there hadn’t been anything more than polite contact helping her into or out of the truck since Saturday.
Roman cut into her thoughts. “Is tending bar what you want to do?”
“Huh?”
“Working behind the bar. Is that what you want to do? What you enjoy?”
She was still scrambling to keep up, the little yellow dudes she always imagined pulling the levers in her head thoroughly confused. “Schlepping drinks? No way. I mean, maybe when I first started, it was cool. But after you’ve served one drunk, you’ve served ’em all.”
“Then why do you do it?”
She snapped her head back. “Is this a trick question?”
“No. I want to understand why you continue to work as a bartender.”
“Because I’m a high school dropout, it’s a job I can practically do in my sleep and I have to eat.”
“But you have your GED.”
The statement tripped her up almost as thoroughly as his earlier compliment. “How do you know that?”
He grinned, turned onto the highway and gunned the engine. “Is that a trick question?”
Right. She’d forgotten Mr. Mafia Dude and his penchant