Page 21 of Enemies with Benefits
"Wow," I drew out with a snort, glancing at Moira, who rolled her eyes. "Subtle."
"I never said he was," she said with a shrug, pushing away from the bar. "Behave."
I rolled my eyes. “Look, she already gave up the game. I know you're a cop too. So if you want me to answer anything that I know damn well is to make your partner feel better, then you'll have to come back here with handcuffs, I'll bring the lube."
"I can't tell if you're hitting on me or fucking with me."
"It can be both."
"Ah, well...times like this I regret that God decided I should be straight because goddamn, you gay men pull no punches and I could be getting laid so damn much."
"Bi, for the record. And you could make numbers."
"What, you think I don't already?"
"You could make even more numbers if you're ever feeling curious."
"Jesus," Jace muttered as he rubbed his temple. "You're as horny now as you were in high school. Stop hitting on him, I'm never going to fucking hear the end of it, and also, gross."
"Jealous?" I asked lightly, knowing full well that he was going to do everything but take it lightly.
Sure enough, his nostrils flared. "Could you go even five minutes without being an asshole?"
"Probably not, or should I say, just as likely as you going five minutes without being an angry prick," I said, cocking my head. "Have you tried it before? Probably do great things for your blood pressure."
"Oh boy," Kayden said with a sigh, backing up. "That took less than five minutes."
"They've always been like this," Moira said from her place in the open doorway between the bar and the restaurant. "There's no point in trying to stop them."
"All you have to do is answer a simple question, but you have to turn it into some stupid game because you think it's funny to jerk people around," Jace said, ignoring the other two. Which worked out perfectly for them, considering Kayden was taking the opportunity to retreat with Moira. I was sure that conversation was going to be a lot more productive than the one Jace and I were going to have.
"First of all, yes, it is fun, especially when it's tweaking the nose of a self-important dickwad who thinks he can just march in and start demanding answers and...why? Because you're a cop? Well, my mom raised me with a perfectly healthy distrust and dislike of cops, so you can throw that out. That just leaves, what? Our amazing, shared history? Your stunning personality and overwhelming charm? Because neither of those things exists. So, really, what reason do I have to answer your question? Hell, why should I even bother giving you a friendly 'hello' when the last time I saw you was with a broken nose and my busted lip?"
"I did more than bust your lip."
"Yeah, the mild concussion was fun. How was your jaw?"
"Dislocated."
"Damn, I'd hoped for broken, ah well."
"Learn to hit harder, and maybe you would have."
"It's not my fault your jaw is made like the rest of your skull, thick, concrete, and solid all the way through."
"Or maybeyoucould have learned to hit a little harder."
"What? And risk breaking my hand on that thick skull? I don't think so. I needed it just in case you decided to start another stupid fight with me, you weren't guaranteed to win."
"Oh, and you were?"
"More than you."
Which was...a lie. There was no way to remember how many fights he and I had gotten into over the years, ever since that first day we met. It was, of course, easy to say that there were several, and probably more than most people would ever get into in their lifetime. That said, it had never been one-sided between us, much to the annoyance of both of us.
Neither of us had ever managed to beat the other in size, strength, skill, or ferocity. Where I might win a fight here and there, he would inevitably win the next couple. More than once, I had become convinced thatsomethingin the universe was hellbent on making sure there was complete balance between us that prevented either from coming out on top in the final tally. Even that last fight had more or less been a draw, with both of us bloodied and hurt but neither of us coming out on top.
So no, I didn't actually think I was more primed to win if we came to blows again. In fact, I was almost curious about which one of us might win if we decided to duke it out again. He had clearly not neglected himself over the years, and as a cop, one who was clearly in shape, he’d probably had his fair share of tussles. I couldn't make the same claim, but I hadn't been slacking either. Running a club wasn't quite the same as dealing with criminals, but people weren't known for being docile and understanding when they were drinking, and I had never been afraid to get involved when someone got violent.
