Page 32 of Fierce

He didn’t even have to lean forward to talk to Karen, I realized. What was I doing with a man who topped me by a foot? And outweighed me by…what?

“Right,” Karen said dubiously. “You made her cry, and Hope hates to cry. And you’re too big for her.”

The exact same thought I’d just had. Oh, no. We weren’t going there.

“Karen—” I began to say, but Hemi was too fast for me.

“Or could be I’m exactly the right size for her,” he said.

“Yeah, right,” Karen said. “How tall are you? And how much do you weigh?”

“Karen,”I said. “No.”

“I’m an idiot savant,” she told Hemi. “I’m allowed.”

“You are not,” I said. “That’s ridiculous. Why did I think today would be easier if I brought my sister? I am two seconds away from opening that door and pushing you out.”

Hemi was actually laughing a little now. “Better for me that you did, though,” he said. “As it meant you’d actually come, and we’ve already established that I only care about myself. I’m about six foot three and two hundred twenty pounds, give or take a pound. Course, I normally weigh myself in kilos, but I reckon that’s about it.”

“You’re allowed to say in kilos,” Karen said. “And meters. I can convert. Except that you already told me, so it’d be cheating.”

“Because you’re an idiot savant.”

“She is not an idiot savant,” I said. “She’s just rude. Well, the idiot part, maybe.” I loved my sister more than anything. Except right now.

“How much does Hope weigh?” Hemi asked.

“And you’re rude, too,” I told him. “Because you’re ignoring me. And absolutely not,” I told Karen for good measure. “Ab-so-lute-ly not.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “We don’t have a scale. I know she’s five-two, though.”

“She already told me that,” Hemi said. “Seems she’s got a bit of a thing about height, eh. What do we think? Haven’t picked her up—sadly—but I’d say, mmm…” He wrapped his hand around my wrist, the fingers overlapping by inches. “A hundred pounds? Small frame.”

“Not your business,” I managed to say.

I could tell that he had his fingers on my pulse on purpose, that he was all but counting the beats of my telltale heart, and with every moment he held me, they were coming faster, giving away more.

“Which means you weigh more than twice as much as she does, and you’re more than a foot taller,” Karen said, completely oblivious to what was happening in my body, to the effect of Hemi’s steady gaze on me, that warming of his eyes. And that hand around my wrist. She sighed. “Hope’s going to hate that. Which is really too bad, because this is a great car. I can’t believe she’s even letting you take her to the, whatever. The park. Plus you made her cry, and like I said—”

“She hates to cry,” Hemi finished. He hadn’t let go of me, either, Or rather, he had. He’d unwrapped his fingers from around my wrist, but somehow, he was holding my hand, swallowing it up in his, running his thumb slowly over my forefinger and the sensitive web between it and my thumb, and I was heating up from that. From him touching my hand.

“But you see,” he told Karen, “I’m not going to be making her cry again. Or if I do…” That thumb was moving again. “Only if she wants it.”

Before I could react to that, could ask him why on earth I’d want to cry, he was saying, “And as for my…size...we’ll have to see if I can convince her that it might…work.”

I could see, out of the corner of my eye, that he was looking down at me. But I couldn’t look up at him. I sat, frozen, knowing I was blushing, and that I should pull my hand away. That I should stop this right now.

And then it got worse, because I caught myself shifting on the seat a little as his thumb continued to move, as those wayward thoughts continued to arrive, as the heat, the electricity spiraled down my body. All the way down my body. And I could tell he noticed.

“Anyway,” Karen said, completely oblivious, “all of that, and she’s still going out with you again. Maybe it’s the car. Or the tattoo. It’s really hot, though, so I guess I can see why. Why do you have such a huge tattoo? How far does it go?”

“Karen,” I managed to say. “No. It’s personal.”

“It is,” Hemi said. “Personal. And it goes all the way.”

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