Page 126 of Devil’s Disciples

Beaming with pride, I flashed a smile. “Thank you.”

He gave a slight nod. “I was taught to give credit where credit is due.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“So, if you’re not a chef, what do you do for a living?”

“I sell awesome shoes to women who want to wear something fashionable, yet affordable.”

He grinned. “Shoes, huh?”

“I’ve got a little boutique in Old Town.”

“Must be successful at it. Old Town is pricey when it comes to rent.”

It surprised me that he knew how overpriced the area was. I rolled my eyes let out a breath of frustration. “It is, but I love the location. I basically break even every month. If it was somewhere affordable, I’d make money. I doubt that it’d be as successful, though.”

His brows knitted together. “How do you get by?”

“I’ve got a little nest egg my parents left me,” I admitted. “I live off the interest.”

“Must be a hell of a nest egg to live off the interest,”

A twinge of regret poked at me for mentioning my inheritance. I wasn’t embarrassed about living off it, but it certainly wasn’t a source of pride, either. Furthermore, I rarely mentioned it to anyone, and telling Cash about it seemed rather premature.

“I live modestly,” I said. Hoping to change the subject, I arched a curious eyebrow. “What do you do?”

“I manage car washes.”

It wasn’t at all what I expected. “I bet that’s a pretty stress-free gig.”

“It is. Keep the chemicals filled, make sure the pumps aren’t leaking, and keep the mud traps cleaned on a regular basis. We use the best soaps and waxes there are, so the customers stay pretty happy.”

“Do you have partners?”

His eyes thinned a little. “Why would you ask that?”

“You said ‘we’.” I shrugged. “I just guessed that meant there were others involved.”

“There’s five of us. Well, six, really. If you include the asshole that owns the corporation.”

“That’s why I work for myself,” I said. “I don’t have to worry about having an asshole boss.”

“Bosses suck.”

I chuckled. “Bosses and cars.”

“Agreed.” He stood and reached for my plate. “I don’t know which one is worse.”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

His eyes darted around the kitchen. “You don’t have a maid, do you?”

“No.”

“Well, this shit ain’t gonna pick itself up,” he said.

I wondered if he was attempting to earn a blowjob, or if I was seeing Cash in his natural state.