I can be a champion adjuster too, Johnny Boston. I can separate the weird, the ugly, and the
evil if I have to. But that doesn’t mean I’m OK.
That’s how I wanted to answer his question. But I’m getting the feeling he’s not handling things as
well as he could.
“Why are you here? Why do you care about Charlotte Kane?”
Johnny lifts his coffee and takes a sip. “She’s… she’s the mother of my niece.” Then he pauses.
“Jesus. I’ve never said that out loud before. Sounds kinda weird.”
“Which part? The sister-in-law or the niece?”
“Both,” he says, smiling as he takes another sip. “But she’s not my sister-in-law. Just… the mother
of my niece.” He gets up from the table and leans back against the counter, studying me.
I reflexively fold my arms across my chest in a protective gesture.
He’s… hot. OK. There. I said it. Johnny Boston is hot as fuck. There is no way to not notice him.
He’s got one of those hard jaws. Edged and dangerous. Blue eyes. And his hair, when the sun hits it
just right, is blond. But then in the shadows it’s dark. A trick of the light, maybe? Or maybe he’s just
complicated that way?
There’s just a hint of stubble on his face. No messy patches under his jaw or behind his neck. Very
neat, very specific lines have been drawn in stubble on his face. Like he took a class in it or some
beard professional grooms him that way.
And he’s shirtless, just like he was last night. Tanned chest. Like maybe he’s been out on this boat
for a little while before he found me.
He presses the palms of his hands on the counter as he leans back, emphasizing the muscles of his
upper arms, though I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose. It’s a reflex. Like the way I’m practically
hugging myself right now.
We lock eyes and neither of us looks away.
“I have to find her,” he finally says. “And I need to get back to my family. So if you’ve got any
clues, anything that can help me do that—” He takes his hands off the counter so he can use them to shrug. “I’ll take anything, Megan. Even if you don’t think it’s important.”
I nod. Bite my lip. And think. But I’m distracted by his purpose. “Did she take the girl?” I ask.
“Your niece?”
“No. My niece is fine.”
“Your brother wants to… reconcile? With her?”