Page 25 of Plum

“I don’t have social media.”

She glances up for a second, nose scrunched, and then she’s scrolling again. “Why do you have so many pictures of buildings?”

“I like buildings.”

She blinks at me.

“I like architecture.” I gesture to the view of the skyline that Altimeter is known for. She hasn’t really looked at it once.

“Why?” She’s back in my phone, head bent, stopping only to blindly stab one of my potatoes and slip it between her slightly parted lips. My mouth waters.

What did she ask? Why do I like buildings? I’m not really sure. No one’s ever asked me before. “I don’t know. Why do you like birds?”

She looks up. “That’s a stupid question.”

“Humor me.” Her eyes are locked on mine. Another wave of arousal floods my entire body, my skin prickles, my balls throb. It’s like a hit of pure ecstasy. I don’t know how much longer I can sit all the way over here, not touching her, talking about fucking birds.

She lifts her pinky finger. “They look pretty.” She lifts her ring finger. “They sound pretty.” She adds her middle finger. “They don’t cost nothin’ to watch.”

“Maybe that’s why I like architecture.”

She scoffs. “You don’t give a shit how much something costs.” She looks back down at my phone, and I want to grab her by the chin, force her to meet my eyes again, give me another hit.

Then her lips spear down, and she pushes back in her chair. “Who’s Renee?” She holds up my phone, open to old text messages.

She’s pissed. My chest tightens. My little Plum isn’t as unaffected as she acts. She’s jealous. This—whatever this is—she’s not immune.

“My ex-fiancée.”

She squints at the phone, and she must notice the date stamp. Her frown eases. “Ex? What happened?”

“She fucked my stepbrother.”

“Is that what this is? Revenge or something?” Plum drops the phone to the table and sighs. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think your stepbrother’s gonna give a shit if you wet your dick in the same stripper he did.”

I can’t stop the growl rising in my chest, so I clear my throat to cover the sound and take a long drink of water. My muscles tense. It makes no sense, but the idea of anyone else touching Plum, the memory of her with Eric, it flips a button and sends a fighting rage coursing through my veins.

I think she notices. She gnaws at her bottom lip, her eyes shifting.

“That’s not what this is,” I say.

“Then what is it?” Her jaw is tight. She’s daring me.

I hold up her phone and my credit card. “Code.”

She swallows. “1-2-2-1.”

I swipe my card, and then I put her phone back in her purse as I raise my hand to call the waiter over.

“Check. Quickly, please.”

Plum sits there in silence, shifting, finally gazing out the window. She doesn’t even notice the skyline. Her gaze flits back and forth, her nose stuck in the air. It takes me a minute to realize she’s checking out my reflection in the glass.

Her throat bobs. She’s nervous. She doesn’t know what set me off. Hell, I don’t, either. All I know is I’m done fucking around.

“You’re coming home with me.”

She stiffens and puts her cute little nose in the air. “You askin’ me or you tellin’ me?”

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