Page 18 of Café Diablo

“Exactly!” Connor nods in agreement. “He had a hot girl sitting next to him all night that made him nervous enough to drink half of my whiskey collection.”

“I don’t make Edwin nervous,” I say, shaking my head.

“And you call him Edwin, which he hates!” Connor adds, like that’s the cherry on top of his ice cream. “My point is, he came back in here after you left, looking like someone killed his puppy.”

I frown at Connor; that sounds awful. Was he really that pissed at me? “Uh…” I falter, wondering if I crossed a line I shouldn’t have. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh no,” Connor shakes his head. “That’s agoodthing.”

“What?” I rub my temple for a second, completely confused. “Why would acting like someone killed your dog be a good thing?”

“Olivia,” Connor squares off with me. “My brother loves two things in this world: whiskey and winning.”

“Okay?”

“He was super angry at the end of the night,” Connor explains. “And afterward, he spent the last three days twice as angry and uptight than normal—which means, whatever you did, it fucking worked. And it worked well! Ned doesn’t like to lose, but hedefinitelylost to you.”

One of my hands shoots to my neck where my fingers strangle the chain that dangles at my throat. It’s the same chain I wore the other night, with its delicate gold strings that Edwin couldn’t stop eyeing. I don’t even know what to think right now. Yes, going down on Edwin was a power play, but only in that harmless, we both kind of want each other but neither one of us will admit it kind of way. I wasn’t trying towinanything. All I was trying to do was get Edwin to let down his guard and loosen up enough to enjoy his birthday. It was just fun—handcuffs, and flirting, and a hot birthday gift, and then we both go back to our lives and sober up in the morning. Done.

“So—?” Connor’s eyes narrow as if he’s waiting for a detailed play-by-play of how I bested his brother.

Which he’s not getting.

Ever.

“My real question is,” Connor continues, “how do I get you to do it again?”

I turn bright red and immediately shoot my eyes to the ground. God, if Connor realized what he just asked—Oye!

“Um…wow! Uh—” I cover my face, completely embarrassed. “This isnothow I expected this conversation to go.”

Clearly, I don’t need to tell Connor what did happen—my damn face is already waving a bright red flag that screams,I had your brother’s cock in my mouth and you just asked for a reprise!

“This might sound messed up,” Connor clarifies. “But I haven’t seen my brother this happy in, well, the history of his time on the planet.”

I frown at him. “You just told me he’s acting like a royal dick.”

“Yeah,that’smy brother happy.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Connor!” I snip at him, frustrated. “You tell me I ‘bested him’ and ‘won’ some game that wasn’t a game—”

“My brother’s a lawyer. Everything is a game or an argument he can win.”

“Okay fine, but you just said he’s acting like a terror. How does that make him Mr. Sunshine?”

“I see your point,” Connor concedes. “But here’s the thing, my brother doesn’t knowhowto be happy. Happiness to him is a victory lap after winning a case and then showing back up to work the next morning before six AM to start on the next one. He’s angry right now because he doesn’t know how to process an emotion like happiness and he doesn’t want to admit what he’s really feeling.”

“That’s ridiculous! It sounds like your brother needs therapy, not another—” I bite my tongue before I say it out loud, making Connor’s eyes narrow. “Can you please move?” I motion to the hallway he’s still blocking. “I have to change.”

“No. What’s ridiculous,” Connor continues, not budging, “is that Ned’s been pissed off for three days straight. That doesn’t happen.”

“You’re exaggerating, Connor. I’m sure he’s been happy formanydays in his life, or angry-happy if that’s what you want to call it. I didn’t do anything special.” This time I duck below Connor’s elbow and manage to slip past him to head toward the bathroom. “I need to get ready for my shift, thank you!”

“Olivia—” Connor snags my wrist and I turn around to face him, tired of this conversation.

“Connor, come on,” I complain, my shoulders slouching. “I seriously have to get ready.”

“Okay, but here’s the thing—my brother’s a work-a-holic.”

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