Page 79 of The First Spark

Wrong response, Asher Hammond.

“I’m sure you will.” I bite out the words, my jaw tight with aggravation.

Not that Raven will care. The woman has zero hangups about her feminine wiles. Just ask any man in Black Lotus and they’ll agree.

But she’s got her eye on the grand prize and no doubt, the feeling is mutual.

I’m not a threat by any stretch.

She probably sees me in the same way Ash does, as a pretty and uptight geeky woman with zero ink, no piercings, and a preference for jazz clubs over nightclubs.

Seems me and my wickedly talented mouth will have to find another venue in which to play.

This one is all booked up.

“Did I hear my name mentioned?” Raven’s pale arm wraps around Ash’s shoulder as she interjects herself into our chat.

How lovely. This afternoon keeps getting better and better.

“What were you two saying about me?” she asks, shooting Ash a coy smile.

“Talking about your ink and the party later.” Thankfully, Ash doesn’t divulge my nickname for the black-haired beauty. Maybe he’s saving it for when they’re alone so he can claim it as his own.

Whatever works.

“Are you coming, too?” Raven inquires, arching a sculpted brow at me.

“We’ll see,” I mumble. “It depends on how I feel later. The shop is busy, so I’ll likely be too tired.”

Code for no chance in hell.

“That’s a shame.” Her voice is soft, but there’s no missing the tone—dripping with sarcasm, layered beneath a breathy whisper. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Raven.”

“I heard.” After a beat, I huff out a sigh and extend my hand. “I’m Ori.”

“The bookstore owner.” A smile lights up her face as her gaze volleys between Ash and me. “You look like a bookstore owner.”

Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Raven catches the anger flashing across my face and rests a hand on my arm. “It’s not an insult. You’ve got this adorable librarian aesthetic about you.”

Shoot me. Now.

There’s nothing as humbling as a gorgeous vixen calling you adorable. Bonus points for doing it in front of the man who used me—not for sex, but for my signature.

I feel like a Pomeranian.

Wearing glasses.

About to turn feral.

Sure, call me adorable, Ms. Thirst Trap. We’ll see how that plays out for you when I rip those extensions out by the root.

And … yep. Now I’m feral.

It’s time to go.

“I have to get back to work, as do you. See you around, Ash.” A choked laugh emerges from my throat, but it’s the best I can manage.

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