“Butter?” she yells over the sound of the air popper.
“Yes! And salt!” I yell back. I’d actually prefer to have the popcorn with just salt, but I don’t mind eating it with butter.
“Do you want a drink?”
“Water is fine.” She comes back with a giant blue bowl in one hand and a glass in her other, a second glass held between her side and arm. I stand up to take it from her so it doesn’t fall.
“If you needed help, you could have asked,” I say as she sits back down and folds her legs up on the couch. She places the bowl between us and I see that she’s been quite liberal with the butter. Suck it up, Quinn.
“I usually put more stuff on my popcorn, but I didn’t know how you’d like it,” she says, grabbing a handful.
“What do you put on it?” I keep my eyes on the screen, but all my attention is on her.
“Chocolate chips, caramel sauce, hot sauce, chili powder, frosting, you name it. I should make you my ranch popcorn. It could change your life.” I reach for a handful myself and try not to grimace at how saturated the popcorn is.
“It sounds disgusting,” I say. I’m a food purist. I like things to be as simple as possible.
“Yeah, well, you’re wrong about that too. You’re wrong about a lot of things, Quinn Brand.” I shake my head and go for another handful of popcorn.
“And you really like to be right, Saige Beaumont.” I don’t know why I like using her first and last name, but it almost feels like a habit.
“I am right. There’s a difference.” Tossing a piece in the air, she catches it in her mouth and then grins at me with the popcorn between her teeth.
“We’ll see,” I say.
I know I’m spending too much time with her. The goal is to get in, get what I need and get out. But I’m drawing out the process with Saige. Maybe it’s because this time it feels different. She feels different and I can’t say why. I feel off-balance with her, which isn’t an entirely unpleasant thing. After so many days of doing the same thing, this is new. She is new. Refreshing.
We’ve watched both movies and it’s well past dinner time. I briefly consider asking if she wants to go out again, but I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. I take the empty popcorn bowl and glasses and put them in the sink. She gets up and follows me into the kitchen.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I say. If there’s one thing I’ve ever learned about women, it’s that doing a little goes a long way. Picking a dish, taking out the trash, simple little gifts.
She leans on one of the counters and wraps some of her hair around her finger.
“You’re something else, you know that?” She has no idea.
“So are you,” I say.
I wipe my hands on a dishtowel that’s covered in red poppies and sigh.
“I really should go,” I say and I ignore how much I hate saying it. I want to take the words back as soon as they’ve left my mouth.
“Yeah, sure. I actually do have homework to do, so I should probably get back to it.” There’s an odd pause between us and I break it by leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek.
“Call me,” I say before heading toward the door. She walks behind me and I really want to turn around, push her up against the cabinets and fuck the daylights out of her. But I don’t. She looks like she wants to say something, but she presses her lips together and smiles.
“See you later,” she says as she closes the door behind me. I let out a long breath and head for the stairs.
As soon as I’m back in my car, I call Cash.
“What is wrong with you? Your voice sounds different,” he says before I can even tell him why I’m calling.
“My voice sounds different? What the fuck are you talking about?” I consider getting in a cab, but the walk will be good for me. Burn off all the fire that Saige lit in me earlier. Every time I blink all I can see is her face and her breasts and her pierced nipples when I was on my knees and looking up at her. I know I want her, but anyone would want her. I’m a man and she’s a woman. It’s biological.
“Never mind. What’s up?” Hm. Cash never had a problem with calling me out on my shit, but he backs off on this.
“I just wanted to let you know that I saw her. We, ah, nearly got together again, but then Lo walked in on us. I guess she was worried when Saige didn’t tell her about me, so she just showed up.” Cash laughs.
“Aw, you got cock-blocked. Maybe you should have asked her to join.” Something tells me neither Saige nor Lo would be the kind of girls who would share when it came to the bedroom.
“I don’t think that would have gone over well.”
“Too bad. The friend is pretty hot, from what I remember.” I roll my eyes and try to get Cash back on track. Sometimes he thinks too much with his cock and not his brain.
“Well, keep me updated. Oh, and Track’s been gathering intel for the next mark.” The next mark. I can’t even think about that. I can’t see anything past what I’m doing right now.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. We might even need to move again anyway.” I have the feeling that after this job, we’ll need to bail.
“Good deal. Hey, I’ll see you on Tuesday?”
“See you on Tuesday.” I get to the parking garage and change out of my work clothes and back into my jeans and hoodie.
I look down at my phone and consider calling Saige. And then I want to punch myself in the head. What the hell is wrong with me? I saw her less than an hour ago and now I’m like a junkie who needs a fix.
Right now I need to detox. Get her out of my system this weekend so I can come back with a clear head.
I head home, but don’t stop at my apartment. I keep walking. My stomach rumbles, but I can get food later. The air is cool against my skin and it’s nice. It’s helping wash away my heated thoughts about Saige. I have to stop thinking about her red lips and creamy skin and her taste on my tongue. Not to mention the feeling of sliding into her and the sounds she made when I did.
Fuck. Me.
I definitely need to stop thinking about that.
My mind drifts away from Saige and I’m hit with a memory of my mother, standing in the kitchen sweeping the floor and singing. When I was younger, I used to think she was Cinderella because she always sang when she cleaned and she had blonde hair. I didn’t get any of my coloring from her, but I got a lot of her features.
When I think about her, I try to remember her like that. A broom in her hand and her clear voice cutting through the air, sun from the window streaming in behind her and making her hair glow.
But then a shadow swoops in and I see her on that same floor. Dead. Her blue eyes open and lifeless, her hair mingling with sticky red blood.
I shake my head back and forth a few times, but it does no good. My feet take me forward and I realize it’s late. I should go home. Feed Leo. Go to bed.
Sighing, I turn around and walk back the way I came.
Loneliness gnaws at me again. I have Cash and the rest. I have Lizzy. I always told myself that needing people makes you weak. I can’t let myself care because people are always taken away from me when I care. Lizzy is the one exception to that rule.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I just assume it’s Cash. Nope. Another text message from my stalker.
You didn’t think I was going to give up that easily, did you?
“Fuck,” I say under my breath. This asshole isn’t going to give up.