Page 16 of Shadowed Obsession

“Fair enough. Maybe I’ll leaveifyou ask nicely,” I challenge, stifling a laugh as I await her response.

She tucks the semi-automatic pistol into her waistband with a devious grin. “I’ll show you fucking nice. Get the fuck out of my house, Scar,” she spits, emphasizing her nickname for me and pointing at the deep scar on my top lip. “I bet you earned that from running your fucking mouth.”

Well damn.

The guffaw that escapes me startles her. I throw my head back as my body shakes with laughter.

“I did, actually. That wasn’t a question, but I figured I should tell you something about me since I know so much about you. I came prepared and brought an overnight bag, in case you’d like to get to know me some more,” I say, tilting my head toward the backpack resting by the front door.

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, pressing those full breasts together. I lick my lips and drag my eyes up quickly, hoping she didn’t notice.

“That’s cute and all, but you ain’t fucking staying here,” she states.

“The hell I’m not,” I argue, amusement in my tone, mocking her voice as she glares at me. I’m not staying here, but she doesn’t need to know that.

She’s cute when she’s angry.

“Alright, alright. You were supposed to find it tomorrow, but since I ruined the surprise, I’ll give it to you now,” I tell her, backing up carefully to retrieve the backpack.

My moves are timed and deliberate as I make a show of unzipping the bag slowly, and when I catch her hands rushing toward her waistband, I tut. “Hey, trigger fingers, I came bearing gifts. Keep it up and I’ll take this thing back.”

Her brows furrow as I hold out a gift box, her hands wrapping around it reluctantly as her focus remains on me. With a nod, I urge her to open it and see for herself.

Eventually, she removes the lid, sifting through the tissue wrap, revealing a wooden mortar and pestle. Her mouth parts, and I observe as her fingers trace along the engraving. Rivera,my mother’s maiden name. I clear my throat to push down the emotion, and her eyes meet mine, kinder than before.

An explanation is needed, so I muster one up quickly.

“We call it apilón. I know you love to cook with fresh ingredients and noticed you didn’t have one…” I trail off, glancing at my feet. “It’s already seasoned and everything.”

A twinge in my right arm grabs my attention, and I instinctively graze the area. My fingers dampen at the contact. My body stills at the realization, and she stares at me expectantly.

She fucking shot me.

I’ll deal with that once I get out of here. In an attempt to savor the moment, words tumble out of my mouth, and I hope they make sense.

“It belonged to myabuelita. She won’t be needing it anymore,” I say softly.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. I’ll be using this next time I barbecue.”

My lips shift into a relieved smile, knowing I couldn’t bear to hold on to it. Too many memories to hold on to, mingled with the notion that she’ll soon be making her own with it.

“I knew you’d use it. It’s in good hands now,” I say, slipping my backpack over my shoulders, careful to avoid my wounded arm as I turn to exit. A sigh escapes me, and I drag my balaclava over my mouth, shifting back into the invisible man I’m supposed to be.

“I’ll save you a plate next time,” she says softly, stopping me in my tracks.

“Looks like you’ve got southern charm after all,” I joke, and for the first time tonight, she fights a smile, and it’s a sight to see. “I overstayed my welcome, and I apologize.”

With an incredulous stare, she assesses me. “You realize you helped yourself, right?” she asks with a chuckle.

My hand cradles my wounded arm, and her eyes travel me, landing on my bicep.

“Right. Sorry about that,” is all I manage.

“You’re bleeding,” she says in a hushed tone.

“You clipped me, but no need to worry. Like you said, I earned it,” I admit, and her eyes widen in response.

She looks concerned. She better watch it, or I’ll think she likes me.

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