Page 76 of Things We Left Behind
“About yesterday,” I prompted.
What about yesterday? What the hell was I thinking bringing it up?Again.
“What about it?” There was a dare in his question.
“I met Holly,” I blurted out, going for the first topic that didn’t involve us touching each other. “She seemed very grateful for the job. Lina told us how you hired her. Maybe you’re not a complete asshole.”
“No one gives a compliment like you, Pixie.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, shut up. I’m trying to be nice.”
“The only nice thing you can say about me is that I hired someone to do a job?”
“Maybe I’d have more to say if you’d tell me why my mother is so grateful to you,” I reminded him.
“Leave it alone, Sloane,” he said wearily.
The awkward truce between us was cracking, crumbling. I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed.
Lucian turned his attention to the contents of the bookcase.
His gaze landed on the display case containing a bronzed softball. Those lips went flat again.
“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the acrylic case.
“It’s the ball from my last game. Maeve had it bronzed as a joke.” It had been my first real, fall-on-the-floor, couldn’t-catch-my-breath laugh after my injury. After finding out that my plans for a softball scholarship were officially over.
I didn’t know if the twinge in my wrist was real or just the echo of a memory. And I didn’t realize I was massaging it until Lucian looked down.
His eyes went storm cloud gray. He opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap.
“What?” I asked, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of my tone.
“I don’t have time for this. For you.”
“Like I said, no one asked you to play delivery boy.”
“AndIdidn’t ask you to get involved and end your softball career,” he said.
“Clearly, we’re even then,” I joked.
“As always, you’re infuriating, irresponsible, and immature.” His tone was flippant, as if I were barely worth the effort to insult.
“And you’re a mercurial pain in my ass,” I pointed out, feeling the sting.
“Always so charming. It’s such a mystery why you’re still single.”
The man wielded sarcasm with the dexterity of a master manipulator. I had the urge to pat myself down and search for physical wounds.
“You’re late for your next ritual sacrifice, Lucifer. You’d better be going.”
He smirked. “Thank you for reminding me why our relationship is what it is. Every once in a while, I manage to forget what you really are.”
“Is that so? And just what do you think I am?” I asked.
“Dangerous.”
I flashed him a saccharine-sweet smile. “Do you think you can find your way out, or do you want me to help you down the stairs face-first?”
