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airport
tomorrow at six. Maybe you want to tag along?”
    His face lightens. “I'd
love to.”
    So would I.
    His hand goes for the door
when mine lands on his leather jacket's sleeve.
    Eyes cast down, exhale, then
look me in the eye.
    I come up with the widest
smile I can and hope it doesn't look like I'm going through a series
of horrible spasms.
    I lean forward, he leans
forward, and our faces meet over the gear stick. His lips brush mine
before I push myself a bit and then they're pressed together, and
then they're parting, and then we're exploring each other's mouths
with our tongues.
    And then we're pulling back
with gleeful grins and tingles all over.
    “ I'll
see you tomorrow,” he says with his crinkly eyes.
    “ Tomorrow
then,” I answer through the pounding inside my chest.
    Watch him get out of the
car, shut the door as slow as he can, open the gate, and head inside.
    Hit my forehead against the
steering wheel and think that the moment she sees him, Mom is going
to fucking die.
    What's that sting?
    Broke my glasses with the
hit.
    Crap.

7

    Everybody hates getting
preached at.
    Funny that, in recent years,
it hasn't been my mother who's done the preaching.
    But Daphne.
    “ What
were you thinking?!” Her arms are crossed over her chest, never
a good sign.
    “ Really?
I'm old enough not to have to listen to this.” I scoop up some
books from the box between us and go back to shelving them.
    Her eyes are on the tape
keeping the two halves of my glasses together.
    “ What
did he do to you?”
    Oh, believe me, you don't
want to know.
    “ Nothing,
Daph, he did nothing to me.”
    Push the books together so
they fit snugly on the shelf.
    Like when he pushed me
against the dining table... file those thoughts away, for fuck's
sake.
    “ What
happened to your glasses?”
    The man can be a predatory
sex god if he wants to and she's worried about my glasses!
    “ I
told you I tripped on a box in my living room.”
    “ Did
you...?” She narrows her eyes.
    “ Did
I what?” I furrow my brows.
    “ Did
you two...?” Her hands are doing some incomprehensible gesture.
    You
can preach, but you can't say that .
    “ We
did not have sex, intercourse, coitus, fucking,...”
    “ OKAY!”
    “ He's
nice, you know? And, if you really look at him, kinda cute. It was a
bit awkward at times, but the end of the evening was perfect.”
    “ Oh,
shit.”
    “ No,
really.”
    “ No,
not that. Look.” She nods towards the front door, where a man
with a badge pinned to his belt stands surveying the place.
    Fuck.
    “ Can
I help you?” I approach him with my best 'What could possibly
bring a fine gentleman like you to this establishment?' smile.
    “ Yes.
I'm looking for Giana Armstrong.”
    Double fuck.
    “ That
would be me.”
    An unwelcomed head-to-toe
look and now he's holding the winning raffle ticket for Giana's daily
slap across the face.
    The flip of a photo ID I
can't read because he shuts it again too quickly brings me back.
    “ Can
we talk in private?”
    “ Follow
me.” Come right in!
    Wave Daphne an 'it's okay,'
lead the way to the office, and feel a shiver go down my spine when
he decides to shut the door behind us.
    “ I'd
prefer to leave that open.”
    The smug bastard sits in the
same armchair Steven sat in last time he was here, shaking his head.
    “ I
prefer this conversation's kept private.”
    Sink into my chair and shut
up.
    “ The
man that attacked you last month has died.”
    My heart sinks to my
stomach.
    “ When?”
    “ He
passed in his sleep last night.”
    “ God...”
    “ What
I'm here for, Miss Armstrong, is to see if it were possible for you
to give at least a physical description of the man you said defended
you that night.”
    Dammit dammit dammit.
    “ I
can't recall, really. I told the officers everything that happened: I
ducked and all of a sudden this person has the guy against the wall.”
    He exhales. “Miss
Armstrong, I know what you told the police, however, other concerns
have