Page 29 of My Vigilante Valentine

“Not necessary,” he said quickly, then cleared his throat again like his voice had betrayed him.

“You sure? His could say, ‘Mr. Wilde Brew.’”

His eyes went sharp, and I met his gaze head-on, my heart doing that annoying flippy thing again.

How did he do that without saying a word?

“Also,” I started, my voice firmer than I felt, “while we’re on the subject of making things clear to you, I’m done pretending nothing happened the other night.”

His mouth quirked up, surprising me almost as much as the short, breathy laugh he let free. “Told you.”

“What?”

“That you weren’t one to be bossed around.”

I evaded the double-entendre this time. “I accept that. But the other night was big. So, from now on, talk to me like I didn’t hallucinate the entire thing, or find yourself a new coffee shop. Capiche?”

For a second, Jax just stood there, all stoic and stubborn, giving me nothing. And then, he put his hand over his mouth. Heswiped down, but his attempt to hide his smile was an absolute fail.

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Actually, I take it back. If you don’t let me join your crime-fighting team,thenyou’ll need to find a new coffee shop.”

Now,thatgot a bigger reaction.

His head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I don’t have a team.”

I grinned. “You do now.”

His expression didn’t change, but I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. “Why would you even want to do that?”

Now, it was my turn to rear back. What a weird question. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He angled his head, studying me with that quiet, unreadable intensity that had my stomach flipping over itself. “You own a coffee shop, Luna. You wear a different pair of colorful and sometimes bedazzled sneakers every day, and you ride Malibu Barbie’s skateboard around the neighborhood.”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish. Was he dissing my shoe collection? And not only was my pink and teal skateboard adorable, but it was also a perfectly eco-friendly way to get around town.

“My point is,” he went on, stealing my focus again, “you don’t seem like someone who wants to spend her nights in dark alleys, taking out Slate Harbor’s trash.”

“Slate Harbor’strash?” I echoed, squinting up at him. “Okay, Batman, relax.”

Jax smirked. “Figured you’d appreciate the dramatic phrasing. Back to the topic—I’m not saying you can’t handle any of this. I’m questioning why you’d want to.”

I scoffed. “Well, for starters, I have a very particular skill set?—”

“Talking?” he cut in, one brow lifting. “Flirting?”

Heat crept up my neck. “First of all, rude.”

He waited a second, and then he pulled his lips to the side. “Is there a second of all?”

Oh, there was definitely a second of all. Several, actually. I just couldn’t remember a single one because my brain was now a web browser with too many tabs open.

Internet Explorer, by the way, not Safari or Firefox.

I am fully unwell.

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “And I will get back to you on that.”

His eyes dragged over me, slow and assessing, as if seeing way more than he should.

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