Page 59 of One Touch

“Tour’s over. We have to get across the city to meet with the lighting guy.”

“Already?” she asked, looking up at me with mischief in her big green eyes as she smoothed her palms across my chest. A look that told me she’d be more than happy skipping the appointment and finding some new ways to fill up the hours.

“’Fraid so. I had to call in a favor to even get a Saturday appointment. We can’t be late.”

Kate reached around and grabbed my ass. “If you say so ...”

She turned to walk away, and I caught her arm, spinning her and pressing her into me. “I do say so.”

A hum vibrated low in her throat. “So bossy.” She sauntered away, locking her eyes with mine and knowing exactly how her ass curved and swayed in those jeans.

What a fucking brat.

* * *

Peering out of the windshield,Kate asked, “What the hell is this place?”

I had opted to take the Land Rover rather than my beat-up work truck, and I turned the key off. The ride was decent considering typical urban traffic, and we’d ended up across the city, past the university and into the heart of the Chicago Arts District.

Storefronts gave way to rows and rows of lofts, studios, and retail spaces for artists and galleries. Not only were there art vendors lining the sidewalks and quirky shops jammed next to each other, the architecture itself was amazing. Down a few narrow streets and past what looked like empty buildings, I had come to a stop. Kate had yet to make a move to exit the car.

“That is an abandoned warehouse. Nice try, Ted Bundy.” Kate crossed her arms and stared at the looming gray building.

I shot her an annoyed look. “If I was going to kill you, I’d do it when the entirety of your hometown didn’t know we were together. What do I look like, an amateur?”

A laugh shot out her nose, and she pursed her lips, considering.

She narrowed her eyes at me and pointed a long, painted fingernail in my direction. “Fine, but no weird stuff, or I’ll tell Beakface about it. You don’t want to be on his shit list.”

I laughed as I got out of the car. “Trust me, I’m alreadyonhis shit list. And, Princess? Sooner or later you’ll be begging for the weird stuff.”

Heat flamed in her cheeks as the front entrance to the warehouse opened up. “Hey there!”

I smirked at Kate and then focused my attention on the man we were set to meet. Sylvester Stormbrewer, though I’d be shocked if that were his real name, offered his hand, and I snatched it up in a friendly handshake.

“Who do we have here?” He turned to face Kate, who was still stunned speechless.

“Sly, this is my friend, Kate Sullivan. Kate, Sly.”

“Hi.” Kate offered him her hand, but instead of shaking it, he made a dramatic show of bowing, touching his forehead to the back of her hand, and sweeping one long arm out to the side.

“Mademoiselle.”

Kate found him endlessly amusing. Everyone always did. Sly turned to me. “This couldn’t possibly be the homeowner you were telling me about.”

I steadied him with my glare. He was a shit stirrer if I’d ever met one.

Still holding her hand, he turned her in a half circle. “Why, I don’t see a stick shoved up her ass at all!”

A shotgun burst of laughter erupted from Kate. “I’mthe one with a stick up my ass?” She dropped her chin as though she and Sly often shared secrets. “Surely you know that’s not true. Just look at his face.” She popped her thumb in my direction. “The tight bunch of his shoulders. That man hasn’t let his hair down in a decade, at least.”

He turned to me. “I like her, Beck.”

I sighed, feeling a pinch at the tightness in my shoulders that Kate loved to point out. “Can we please just go inside?”

Amused with himself, he tucked Kate’s hand into the crook of his arm and led her to the doorway of his impressive studio.

I grumbled behind them and ignored the pang of affection for her blooming under my ribs.

---