Page 27 of Last Mile

At her vague response, I prompted, “And what did he do?”

Staring into my eyes, she replied, “He took out the bad guys.”

“So you wanted to be a cop?” When she bobbed her head, I said, “I take it you aren’t one.”

“No. I do the books for a construction company.”

The answer she gave felt almost rehearsed, and I could tell she had no passion for the job the way she had for law enforcement.

“A secretary sounds like a good profession. Maybe not as noble as cop, but it’s still important.”

“Interesting to hear you say that.”

“Because I’m supposed to be an outlaw who hates cops, right?”

“I didn’t say that,” she protested.

“While I should be pissed at you for your small worldview of bikers, I’m going to let you off the hook.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “You are?”

“Yep. Going to bust my ass to prove to you how wrong you are.”

“Is that right?”

“It sure as hell is.”

After staring at me skeptically, Samantha smiled. “Okay. I’ll take your challenge and let you try to change my mind.”

“Should we shake on it?”

She shifted the pool cue to her left hand and then offered me her right. As we shook hands, I couldn’t help shuddering at the soft feel of her skin against mine. When we were done, Sam said, “I guess it’s my turn again?”

“This game is bullshit.”

Samantha snorted. “Yeah, well, it’s your bullshit, since you came up with it.”

I tossed my cue onto the table and crossed my arms over my chest. “Then as the creator of this game, I say it’s all bullshit, and we should answer each other’s questions without earning them.”

Samantha laughed. “I never pegged you for a quitter.”

“I’m not a quitter. Just curious about you.”

Tilting her head at me, Samantha asked, “Why?”

“Because I find you very interesting.”

“You find me interesting or you find my tits and ass interesting?”

My jaw dropped open at her audacity. Not wanting to let her get the upper hand, I replied, “If I had to answer truthfully, I would have to say it’s a toss-up between you and your assets.”

“An honest man. How refreshing,” she mused.

“Admit it. You’ve enjoyed getting to know me and my emotional shit.”

Samantha grinned. “Yes, I have. But there could be even more under the surface. Like how you’re so in touch with your feelings that you cry at sad movies.”

I wagged a finger at her. “Actually, it’s that sad-as-hell ASPCA commercial with the pitiful-looking dogs and cats that gets me crying.”