Offensive Behavior

“I’m in awe of what you can do with your body.”

“Ah-huh.”

“I’m turned on by the things you say.”

She made a noise of disbelief. “I mostly argue with you. I yelled at you.”

“You don’t get rationales in the summary version.”

“So you’re like most guys, you want to get with an exotic dancer. It’s a sexual conques

t thing.”

“Ah.” Now he broke eye contact. He turned his head away completely to look out the window.

“It’s okay.” She almost laughed, but that would be cruel. Goddam it. “I have a thing for you too.”

He turned his head around, his expression a little fierce, and hit her with her own question. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” He wanted. It’d been a dry spell. She was offering. It could be good. It was a one-time thing.

His mouth flattened. Not what he was expecting. “I’m the drunk who ogled you on stage for a month and never had the guts to step up and tip you, who made you feel like you’d been attacked twice in that alley, and then let you see him at his worst physically. I think I barfed on you. That cannot be attractive.” He stopped her responding with a raised hand. “I’m unemployed. I have an income, but I don’t have a job and I have no idea when I will have one again. I think it matters.”

“It was close, might have splattered my shoes.”

“Shit.” He palmed his face, his head dropping forward so she saw the curve of his neck and imagined what it might feel like to grip him there, hold on while she treated him to a lap dance.

“You didn’t tip anyone else either, except Vi.”

He straightened up and hit her with his laser lock eyes. “I am out of my depth with you.”

“I can see that and I like it. I like the idea you’re obsessed with me.”

He groaned. “That cannot be healthy.”

“Probably not.” She eased closer and his nostrils flared. “But then I’m a pole dancer who hasn’t committed and you’re a bum without prospects.”

He laughed and lifted one arm so it draped across the seat back, almost like he was making a space for her to fit into. “In your experience, what happens when two people have a thing?”

She moved into the space and his breath stalled. She ran a finger down the middle of his chest to his belt, over the crispy cotton of his shirt, but kept her eyes on his. “They fuck like rabbits.”

Reid made a choking sound. “I don’t even know your name.”

She held out her hand like Lizabeth had first done. “I’m Zarley.”

He took it and didn’t let go. “Hello Zarley, pleased to meet you. I’m your number one fan.”

“But you’re going to drop me home and then we’re never going to see each other again, because you’re a man of your word and all you wanted was a meal with me, right?”

He scrunched his eyes closed. “I’m an idiot.” Then he locked on again.

“You are an idiot. We have a thing. You should’ve at least tried to kiss me.”

“You wouldn’t let me buy you a meal alone. You might hurt me if I tried to kiss you.”

“You’d have to take that risk.”

“Why didn’t you tell them you rescued me?