Page 89 of A Sin So Pure

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm,” she hums, but it’s too high-pitched.

I stare at her, trying to stop myself from smiling because I think I know what’s going on—and I’m not letting her leave without telling me.

“Why do I not believe you?”

“Because you like to pry when people’s answers don’t satisfy you,” she blurts.

Her hand immediately covers her mouth. A muffledoopssounds from behind her fingers. I huff, not knowing whether to laugh or rage.

“I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Don’t say anything, just forget it,” she waves her hands around my head like she can magic away my memory. “There. Forgotten.”

Oh, she isdrunk.

It’s at that moment that a fae woman stumbles out of the bathroom door—a bathroom that is asingle stall—adjusting the string of pearls around her neck.

“Excuse me,” the woman says as she scurries past, casting Josie a sheepish glance.

I didn’t think Josie’s face could get any redder, but it does.

A devious grin spreads slowly across my lips.

“Did you have sex in my bar’s bathroom?”

“I would never,” she says. “I’m far too responsible to do something like that.”

“It’s okay if you did,” I tease, trying to hold back my laughter by biting my bottom lip. “Plenty of people do it.”

Josie groans, shuffling over to the wall and banging her forehead on it.

“This is embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not,” I say, quickly walking over and rubbing small circles on her back. “It’s perfectly normal. You know how many times Nora and I fucked in there?”

“Ew.” She casts me a disgusted glare from her periphery.

“Okay, maybe not the best example to have chosen.”

Josie groans. “I needed a distraction.”

My hand stings at her back, my magic taking in the sharp pinpricks of her stress. I pause in my ministrations.

Josieneverprojects her emotions.

“Joze—”

“It’s been a lot. Dealing with, you know,everythinglately.”

Her frustrated groan vibrates against my fingertips, and my gaze softens on her. Josie’s the kind of woman who keeps her worries to herself and, at the same time, takes on everyone else’s.

It’s a wonder she’s so composed all the time, honestly.

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” I ask.

“Yeah, I am.” She tilts her head to the side. No tears well in her eyes, but a sadness shines there alongside the drunk haze. “Sorry. This is weird.”

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