7. June #3
Or, maybe I’m being fucking paranoid and they really are busy with work and it has nothing to do with me.
I only wish I could get rid of this nagging feeling that something is going on they aren’t telling me about.
The suspicion continues to morph into irrational thoughts that eat away at me, and if something doesn’t change soon, I worry that the distance might cause irreparable damage between us.
“The shipments,” I say, bringing us back onto business talk. “I assume the routes are constantly changing, right? To avoid detection from the police or whatever.”
Simon downs some of his water and nods. “Yeah.”
“So then someone on the inside is tipping them off?”
“Has to be.” Simon points to my food. “You have two minutes to eat one of those or I’m coming over there and shoving it down your throat.”
I narrow my gaze at him. “Doesn’t that go against the whole protecting me thing?”
“I can’t protect you if you starve to death, love.”
“I’m not going to starve, you’re being dramatic.”
“You think I don’t notice, don’t you?”
“Notice what?” I swallow the lump that forms in my throat.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t do that.”
Simon reaches across the table and moves the basket of food closer to me. “Eat. The. Taco.”
“Tell me what you notice and I will.”
“I see everything. All the little and big things.” He draws in a breath and exhales. “And if you don’t eat that taco, you will witness me up close and personal.” Simon raises his brow. “Unless that’s what you want.”
“Fine, I’ll fucking eat it.” I shove half the thing in my mouth and with some of it hanging out, I ask him, “Are you happy?”
“Yep.” A smug look of satisfaction appears on his stupidly handsome face.
I chew the ginormous bite and swallow it down with a gulp of the Dr. Pepper.
I burp, not caring at all how unladylike it may be, and eat the rest of the taco.
I go to work on the other one, knowing damn well that he isn’t going to let me off that easy.
I manage to choke half of it down and shove the thing across to him. “That counts, right?”
He pinches his gaze at me, assessing whether he’s going to accept it or not. Luckily for me, he does. Simon drags the basket toward him and eats the rest of my taco, licking the juice from his fingers when he’s finished.
I catch myself staring and do anything I can to avoid looking at him any longer. “If the guys are gone tonight…” The realization finally dawns on me. “Does that mean you’re stuck with me?”
“Stuck isn’t really the word I’d choose.” Simon cleans his mouth off with a napkin and drinks the rest of his water. “But yes, until one of them gets home. Although, I do have plans for us.”
I ignore the flutter of my heart. “Plans?”
“Mmhm. But it’s a surprise.”
"I hate surprises." Okay, that's a lie, I just hate knowing about surprises. That weird limbo of anticipating what it could be drives me fucking insane.
“Too bad.”
“I hate you,” I tell him for what must be the tenth time today.
“Keep telling yourself that, love. Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.” Simon gathers our trash and carries it over to the nearest bin. He points to the can of soda. “You done with your pop?”
“My what?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself, are you done or not?”
I rise from my seat and grab the soda. “Did you just call this pop?” I walk over to him. “Simon fucking Beckett, did you just say pop?”
“Pop, soda, whatever the fuck you want to call it, are you done?”
I laugh and shake his shoulder. “Are you from Ohio or something?”
“June, I’m going to take back my vow and murder you right here if you don’t give it up.”
His persistence only makes me laugh harder.
“This is the best day of my life.” I toss the can into the trash. “There, I’m done with my pop. Are you satisfied?”
Simon latches onto my hand and spins me toward him. “You’ll know when I’m satisfied.”
I press my palms against his chest, the warmth of him coursing through me. Jesus Christ, I cannot be this close to this man. He’s sinful and alluring, and if I’m not careful I will get caught in his flame, burning us all to the ground.
“You have an eyelash.” Simon picks it off my cheek, his finger like cool electricity along my skin. “Make a wish.”
I purse my lips together, forming said wish in my mind, and blow gently, but enough to send the thing flying.
He swallows, and with one hand still holding me close to him, asks, “What did you wish for?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t come true.” I should move from his grasp, but instead, I stay firmly in place, a strange comfort coming over me with his nearness that I’m not ready to give up just yet.
“If you told me, maybe I could help make it come true.” Simon brings his hand toward my face, hovering it just along the edge of my skin. His green eyes dart from my eyes, to my lips, back to my eyes.
Green, an eye color to signify greed, malice, danger. Sure, they’re fucking radiant, but they’re capable of mesmerizing and distracting me from the fact that Simon is still the enemy.
Being this close to him isn’t only distracting, it’s wrong.
I wiggle out from under his hold. “That’s not how wishes work, Simon Beckett.”
It’s fun playing with fire, but soon enough, someone is going to get burnt.
"So tonight," Simon doesn't push the issue anymore and allows me to escape with my wish tucked deep inside me. "Do you have a baseball cap?"