Page 69 of Start A War (Saint View Psychos)

“Not at all.”

I sank a little deeper in the water. “Where are we going?”

“My place.”

I blinked. “Uh…that’s a little presumptuous of you…”

“What do you mean?”

Great. It wasn’t presumptuous at all. Perhaps he just hadn’t wanted to take me out in public. I cringed at the unwanted, ugly thought. “I just meant that normally guys only take you back to their place if they want…sex.”

“Is that what you want me to want?”

Oh my God. I was suddenly really glad we weren’t looking at each other because I was contemplating drowning myself. How did I answer that? If I said no, that would be horribly insulting. And a lie. If I said yes, though…I couldn’t say yes. That was too forward.

Rebel would have said yes. I’d spent my whole week watching her flirt with guys at the bar. I envied the ease she had with everyone, while I fumbled over my words and hoped to be a ghost. I wanted people to see right through me, like I wasn’t even there.

Most men did.

Vincent didn’t.

“That’s a really forward question for a first date,” I whispered.

“Is it? I apologize then. I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t,” I rushed. “You just took me by surprise.”

“I make most people uncomfortable.”

I frowned at that. I’d never felt uncomfortable with him. Curious by the odd things he said perhaps, but never uncomfortable. In fact, I clearly felt too comfortable if I was willing to get in a bath with him still in the room. Vincent had been nothing but polite and kind. He was good with kids. And he’d gone above and beyond with Caleb. Sure, maybe he’d been a little over the top with the graphic death threats, but I’d needed someone to say those things. Caleb had already proved himself willing to hurt me. And he wasn’t the only one. I hadn’t forgotten my midnight visitor’s threats and demands.

I moved a few bubbles around strategically. “Not me.”

He didn’t say anything.

I wondered if he were smiling. “How was your week of unemployment?”

“Dull. Yours?”

“Busy. I kind of inherited a bar. So now I work there.”

“You inherited it? It was a family business?”

“My brother owned it. He was killed recently. Now it’s mine.”

Vincent stiffened. “What was his name?”

“Axel Fuller.”

“You have different surnames.”

“Different fathers.”

“How did he die?”

I sighed.

“I made you uncomfortable, didn’t I?”

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