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Now I was remembering why I hadn’t apologized for the name-calling.
The man was infuriating.
“I didn’t threaten to fondle. I threatened to punch you in your dick.”
“Same thing.” He shrugged.
It was nowhere near the same thing.
The smug grin he sported made my next question rhetorical.
“Are you enjoying this?”
Yet he still answered, “Not as much as I’d enjoy—”
“Asshole,” I hissed and turned on my heel to find a bathroom so I could shower off the eight-hour drive and the news that Badger was out there somewhere looking for my long-lost-still-alive-mother.
“You wanna change it up and play it that way, I’m game.”
For my sanity I kept my retort to myself.
It wasn’t until I was in the shower alone that I smiled. As irritating as Easton was, I couldn’t deny I liked the banter.
Another reason it was time to cut ties and retreat back to The Ranch.
Easton was the distraction I couldn’t afford. The man was lethal. He would be the diversion that killed my mission.
SEVENTEEN
Smith appeared in the kitchen, hair still wet from his shower, face set to contemplative.
“You good?” I asked as I flipped the grilled cheese I was making for Nebraska and finished by waving the spatula in the direction of his food. “Yours are on the plate.”
“I was coming in here to ask you that.”
By the time I looked up from the pan, Smith had already stuffed his face with grilled cheese. “Who hooked us up with real cheese?” he asked around a mouthful.
“Probably Ivy. Kira’s idea of cheese is that block of soft yellowish shit she melts.”
Smith nodded and took another bite.
I went back to the pan.
“Silence. That’s telling,” he taunted.
I would much rather talk about Kira’s fake cheese preference than try to put what I was feeling into words.
“I’m not pissed at Zane,” I told him. “If he kept Black a secret he had his reasons.”
“Agreed. But that’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
Fucking Smith.
He never let shit go.
“There’s nothing to say,” I evaded.
“That’s bullshit.”
