Page 562 of Not Over You

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his muscles testified to what he did every day. Worked out. He owned his own gym and lived next door to it. The light highlighted his tan skin and dark, slicked-back hair. The black stubble on his face outlined his chiseled bone structure. His skin was so taut that it hugged every curve. His nose was straight but a bit narrow. His lips looked soft but were firm when he kissed. His eyes, though, always held defiance. It wasn’t apparent from the first look, though. I had to get past the darkness before I realized what I was up against.

The scent of his cologne and the lingering sweet smoke from the cigar floated in the breeze. I held myself even tighter. The blood-thirsty butterflies were trying to get past my barrier with razor-sharp feelers.

“What’s up, Minnie Mouse?” He kissed the top of her head.

“The sky, Lilo.”

“Good one, kiddo,” he said, fixing her hair.

“You have somethin’ for Min?” She smiled big up at him.

“Minnie!” I said.

He held up a hand to stop me from correcting her. “Don’t I always?”

Yeah, he brought her something every Sunday. Sometimes chocolate. It meant more than just something sweet for her to enjoy. The gift was meant for me, too. It was symbolic.

She twisted her upper body, doing an odd little dance. He grinned as he turned away from her to reach into the back seat. His hand came out holding a black and white bunny. Its little ears twitched.

Minnie narrowed her eyes at it before her mind seemed to register what it was. A second later, she screeched and went to grab for the little thing. Lilo pulled it back subtly, then bent down to get eye level with her.

“Easy,” he said, running a finger over its head. “It’s only a baby.”

“Baby,” she breathed out. She watched him for a second before she started copying him.

“Good job, Minnie Mouse,” he said. “Remember to be gentle.”

“Min’s?”

“Yours,” he said.

“We can’t—” take it because of Hoffa I went to say, but he cut me off.

“It’s hers. She can visit it anytime she wants. At the gym.”

My eyes narrowed and I stood taller, anger rushing out the biting butterflies. Even if he felt it, he didn’t acknowledge it. He was too busy paying attention to Minnie and her—his—bunny.

His eyes rose to meet mine when laughter barreled out of my mouth. He didn’t comment on that, either, because he knew what the source of it was. Absurdity. Like he lured Minnie over here with the prospect that this baby animal would be hers, he was luring me in with my sister. I wasn’t thinking highly of myself—that had nothing to do with it. But I knew him. He wanted an excuse to get me close to his hunting ground.

An excuse to trap me again.

We’d just have to make it work with the bunny and Hoffa.

“I’m sure we can find room for—”

“Milk-shake,” Minnie said.

“Milkshake,” I said.

“That cat’s psycho,” Lilo said.

He narrowed his eyes against mine, and I met the defiance in them. The irony of this conversation was not lost on me. In so many ways, he’d been Hoffa and I’d been Milkshake.

That was years ago, though, and ruthless consequences had turned me into a different creature. I’d grown into an entirely different animal. I had claws of my own, and I bit back.

But here he was, protecting the lesser of the two animals.

“Come on, Minnie,” I said with too much bite. “We don’t want to be late for dinner.” We called it dinner, but it was more like lunch that lasted until we were ready to eat again—dinner.

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