Page 53 of There Are No Saints

“I doubt your manager will mind. Shall I ask him?”

“Look,” I hiss. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, giving me that grant. You can’t buy me off that easy.”

“I’m not buying you off,” Cole says, black eyes fixed on mine. “I already told you, I don’t care what story you tell.”

“Then why did you give it to me?”

“Because your work was the best.”

That hits me like a slap, even though it’s supposed to be a compliment. He sounds completely matter-of-fact. And god, I’d like to believe it. But I don’t trust him, not for one fucking second.

“Finish your shift,” Cole says, dismissing me imperiously. “Then we’ll talk.”

I finish out the brunch shift, feeling his eyes on me everywhere I turn. My skin burns and I fumble through tasks I could usually perform in my sleep.

“What’s with the camper?” Arthur asks me.

“Sorry—he’s waiting to talk to me. He owns my studio.”

“Oh, a rival boss, eh?” Arthur snickers, peeking around the corner to observe Cole closer.

“He’s not my boss.” I toss my head, irritated.

“He looks rich,” Arthur says. “You should ask him out.”

“No fucking way.”

“Heisrich though, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I admit.

“I knew it.” Arthur nods, wisely. “I can always tell.”

“He’s wearing a Patek Philippe. You’re not exactly Inspector Poirot.”

“You better lose the sass, or he’ll never date you.”

“I DON’T WANT HIM TO DATE ME!”

Arthur looks at me pityingly. “Women always say that.”

I wish I could slap Arthur and Cole at the same time, with both hands.

“Well, go ahead then,” Arthur says. “I’ll handle your closing duties.”

“Thanks,” I say, not actually grateful.

Taking off my apron, I plop down in the seat opposite Cole.

“What should we order?” he says.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Liar. You must be starving after working all night.”

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to ignore the sensual shape of his lips and those outrageous cheekbones. Trying to focus only on the cold brilliance of that stare, harder than diamond.

“I knew you were spying on me,” I say.

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