Page 25 of Dark Horse

Rule number two is that you don’t fuck around while we’re doing this.

If you read my conversations, then you know I liked to joke with my clients.

You need to find your sense of humor.

“You misunderstood.” A deep voice greets me from the other side of the bar, and I startle before my eyes meet his. He looks prettier than usual tonight in a suit that’s perfectly tailored to highlight his broad shoulders. I’m lost for words, and he’s amused at the fact he’s caught me off guard. “I meant there are no other numbers in your phone besides mine while we do this.”

“That sounds like an overreach.” I manage to find my voice again. “And besides… What if he’ll let me call him Cowboy when I ride?” I give him a teasing grin, and I see the slightest hint of one on his lips, too, before he smothers it.

“He lets you ride, and it’ll be his last rodeo before I break both of his legs.” He leans on the bar. “How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like you need a drink.” I press my lips together and raise a brow.

He opens his mouth to respond, and I hold up my hand.

“Scotch neat. I know.” I go to reach for the bottle, only to find it missing. “Shit. I left it upstairs.”

I blush as I remember why it’s still in my apartment—that he’s seen the photos I took with it. I’m out of my depth on this new dynamic, and there’s a sly grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth as he sees me floundering. The kind that’s almost charming.

“Give me a Jack and Coke then.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

I give him a skeptical look but pull out the glass anyway.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, keeping my focus on my pour.

“Thought I’d be on hand while we establish the rules. In case we need to iron out any details.”

“Afraid I won’t agree to them?” I risk a glance as I add the Coke.

“I don’t think you have much choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” I slide him the drink.

“Fair enough, but yours are pretty limited at the moment.”

I have to disappear to take care of another customer who’s waving me down, and I get caught in the rush of people pouring in for happy hour. But I hear my phone ding again and look up to see that he’s finally rooted back in his usual seat.

THE DEVIL:

Rule number three: I want delivery of assets every night by last call.

Rule number four: Don’t call them assets.

Isn’t that what they are?

It’s what I’m making use of, not what I’m creating.

Rule number five: You don’t ever show them to anyone.

I told you. I set the rules. Actual rule number four: We don’t ever show them to anyone else.

Deal. But I mean it about the assets.

You haven’t given me a better term.

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