Page 19 of Javier

I walked on for hours, pondering the insult that wasn’t really an insult, facing the reality that he was a player and was proud of it while I was…

Me.

Just me.

Eventually, my inexplicable surge of anger began to ebb. I’d never been one to hold a grudge, and he had a right to his opinions. His presence continued to be problematic. I felt it keenly, a pervasive buzz that flared into electric zaps in those few occasions our eyes met. My nerves sparked, my heart fluttered, and my skin sizzled. I was pulled to him by forces I couldn’t understand. Why was this happening to me?

One explanation was that I’d been out of circulation for over three years. The Sisters of Charity tended to women, children, and the elderly. My isolation from the male world could also help explain why this example of masculine gorgeousness had such a confounding effect on me. And that stolen kiss.Oh, God.I brushed my fingers over my lips. When our mouths merged, I’d felt alive, as if he’d flicked a switch inside of me.

Idiot alert.My sister Cece’s standard warning came to my assistance.We don’t trust men. They don’t want us. They want our father’s money. Hunks in particular are the fickle sort. They are tooled to lie and seduce.

Cece was smartandright. I had many good reasons not to trust men. My father was the biggest one of them. When you grew up being verbally hammered by your sperm donor until you were but a mush of yourself, you understood that men were buttholes. Sure, there were a few, rare exceptions—like Dash and Nix—but on the whole, men weren’t safe.

I’d given up hunks a while back. They only loved themselves. They preened like peacocks, sang their own praises, and fed their egos, floating in the shallow currents of their looks and their meaningless lives.

Helloooo, Prissy Missy. You’re sounding even more prissy than usual.

Okay, so maybe the “wholesome” episode made me too judgmental, but the Astor world had brimmed with gym-shaped bodies on the prowl for heiresses. I’d avoided them like the plague. My sisters and I had decided early on that we weren’t prized animals to be sold to the highest bidder only to be displayed like trophy heads in luxury mansions.

To be fair, the operator who’d come to fetch me didn’t act like an heiress hunter. He didn’t seem like a society fellow, either. He had a soldier’s speech, a Texas drawl, and a self-deprecating sense of humor. He was cocky. A little arrogant. Funny at times.

I liked that about him.

On the other hand, Javier fell squarely into my dangerous hunk classification. He was an experienced charmer, an amazing kisser, and a flirt with a golden tongue capable of tempting nuns to sin. Considering his puppy eyes, his toe-curling smiles, and his sexy bod, he was also a rogue who knew how to use hisspectacular construction to lower a woman’s defenses.

But not my defenses.Nuh-uh. I knew better.

If anything, his appearance put me on notice. His good looks were nature’s way of warning me that I faced a dangerous creature. I was determined to squash whatever weird vibes came over me when he was around andnotlike him.

Even in those moments when I did.

No worries. I pounded the dirt with my sneakers. Any attraction between us was a one-way street, especially when his best compliment for me was “wholesome.”

Ahead of me, Sister Elsa tripped. The nuns were troopers, but we’d been walking for a long time. Keeping an eye on them, I slowed down and fell into step with Javier.

“The nuns are tired,” I said.

“You want me to carry Sister Elsa?”

“She won’t let you.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Last time I offered she told me she was blind, not lame.”

“That’s Sister Elsa for you.” I sighed. “How much longer?”

“Wow, thank you.” Although his eyes roamed the trail, one side of his mouth quirked up.

“For what?” I asked, curious.

“This is the first time I’ve heard your pretty voice in hours.”

Hunk alert. He was doing the manwhore thing, and I wasn’t playing.

“Save your charms for fish that will bite your lure,” I warned in a low voice. “Why waste my time babbling if I don’t have anything of value to say?”

“Spoken like a true introvert.” He widened his cocky smile. “I get the feeling you have a lot to say and all of it has value.”

I glanced at his profile. Was he BSing me or did he meanwhat he said?

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