Page 33 of Café Diablo

I turn away from him, snagging my water back and raising it to my lips. “There isn’t a plan. There doesn’t need to be one.”

“Wrong answer,” Conner jabs. “Because you’ve never improvised anything in your life. There isn’t a class, test, courtroom, or high-risk situation that you’ve walked into without a locked-and-loaded strategy with three exit plans, six back up scenarios, and a trap door for good measure.”

“She’s a person, not a dossier,” I grumble.

“You know what my back door plan would be?” Mason asks with a naughty smile on his face.

I point at Mason while staring at my brother. “Punching this guy,” I say. “That’smy plan.”

Connor turns to Mason. “You realize, comments like that arewhyyou’re the bottom of the barrel, right?” Mason frowns, about to say something that would inevitably prove Connor’s point, but his attention is back on me. “This is uncharted territory for you,” Connor says, refocusing. “That’swhy you don’t have a plan.”

I roll my eyes. “Thisisn’ta high-risk situation. It isn’t a situation at all. It isn’tanything. Thank you.”

“Except for the part where you were about to go Wolverine on your best friend because I suggested he might want to put a hand on—”

“What’s your end game here, Connor?” I ask, cutting him off and trying to move past this whole charade. “I came to your party. I took your delivery. What do you want from me?”

Connor leans against the bar with his fist under his chin and his arm resting on the bar top like he’s taking some cheesy high school portrait. He blinks his eye lashes at me like I’m a lost cause. “Man, youareinto her.”

I turn away, chugging the damn water, because if we’re going around in circles like this all night, I better sober up fast if I’m going to bail on this little shit show and drive.

“Admit it,” Connor prods, that stupid smile still on his face.

“I’m leaving now,” I push the empty glass toward Mason.

“No, seriously,” Conner snags my elbow. “Let’s just start with you admitting that Olivia got under your skin and you can’t stop thinking about her.”

I glare at him and he smiles even wider.

“It’s real easy,” he coaches. “I … like … her. Or—Olivia … is … hot.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Okay, let’s go with the yes or no, tactic,” he continues relentlessly. “Are you into her?”

I don’t answer.

“Are you spending all your waking hours thinking about her?”

Not budging.

“If Mason came near her, would you turn his skin inside out?”

“Hey!” Mason complains, and I just cross my arms.

“Do you think she’s sexy? Do you like her hair? Do you want to take her out on a date? Do you want to domorethan take her out?”

“He means sex,” Mason contributes.

“Does he?” I ask sarcastically, cutting Mason a frown.

“Do you like Olivia Reese?” Conner badgers, and I’m realizing this isn’t going to end. “Handcuff goddess? Sexy Flambé hostess?”

“Are you going to read me her entire resume like I don’t know who she is?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Well then, I can stand here all night.”

---