Dirty Deeds (Get Dirty 3)

I can’t believe she lied about her name. Well, I can. I just can’t believe I couldn’t tell.

One thing I know without a doubt is that I can read people, but she somehow slipped right under my radar. In more ways than one. Without raising a single flag, she’s slipped past all of my defenses.

That both irritates and intrigues me, making me want to know more, even if only so that she couldn’t possibly hide anything else because I already know it all.

Know her inside and out. My cock jerks at that thought, but I talk it down, wanting to use the road time for a better purpose. I look over at Maggie, her feet in the seat, her knees pulled up to her chest. Yesterday, I thought that position was a sign of her shock, her curling into herself, but I’m starting to realize it’s just her.

It’s as if she’s trying to be small, non-intrusive, or even overlooked. It’s as good a place as any to start with the things I want to know.

“Why do you sit like that?”

Maggie startles a little before looking at me, confusion on her face. “Like what?”

I gesture at her feet, appreciating the way it folds her up and the curve it gives her pert little ass before refocusing on the road. “All curled up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit down with your feet on the floor.”

Maggie grins, shrugging dismissively. “I don’t know, just always have.” She pauses, her eyes flicking up and to the left as though she’s remembering something. “Even when I was a kid, my mom would tell me to ‘sit like a lady’ and try to get me to sit up straight and cross my legs. It never worked, mostly because at my house, all the chairs were so short compared to the tables. I had to sit on my knees or something just to be able to eat dinner for a long time. Later, in school, kids were sometimes cruel.”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel, even though I know what she’s talking about was years ago. “Kids can be motherfuckers.”

“Making myself invisible helped to keep their sights off me. Eventually, I guess it just became habit, along with being invisible. It lets me watch from the sidelines, learn things about people because they don’t perceive me as a threat even if they notice me.”

It’s a deeper answer than I expected, and that she shared makes me happier than it should. “Angel, nothing about you is invisible, and if you ever thought you were, you were fucking mistaken. I saw you the moment you walked into Petals and have been mesmerized by you every fucking day since.”

She blushes, seeming pleased, but laughs lightly. “I don’t think for a second that you were watching me sling beer when there are nearly-naked women swinging on poles right in front of your face.”

I laugh and glance over. “Day one—a pink backpack with a daisy hanging on it. You wore your hair down, curled, and had too much makeup. We shook hands, and I remember that you had hands that were baby smooth.”

“You notice and remember a lot,” Maggie says quietly. “What else?”

I smile, remembering. “You wobbled on your high heels, and the first night you were nervous, never looking at the stage once but doing a surprisingly decent job waiting tables. By the end of the first weekend, you learned to pull your hair up. It shows off your neck and makes me want to bite it, but I’m guessing it’s more to do with how hard you work. You lightened up on the makeup, playing up your big eyes and assuming a young bubblegum airhead persona that is complete bullshit. The customers didn’t know, but we all knew you were a smart girl. Innocent, sure, but smart as a fucking whip. And you learned how to strut in your heels perfectly, your ass swishing this way and that. Yeah, I’ve been watching you every damn day, Angel.”

“Oh.” Her voice is softly high-pitched, surprise written clearly on her face as her eyebrows raise high on her forehead. “I had no idea. I mean, I noticed you too, hard not to with your whole . . . you going on,” she says as she moves her hands about, encompassing my whole body, “But I knew the rules and figured if you were going to break them, it wouldn’t be for someone like me.”

I reach across the console, grabbing a handful of her thigh and squeeze gently. “If I’m gonna break the rules, it’s only gonna be for someone like you.”

She bites her lip, like she’s not sure what to do with that answer, the glimpse of white making me want her teeth on me, marking my chest and neck. “So, what’s your story?” she finally asks, trying to get her balance back. “You usually go around playing hero? I know you don’t have any tights on underneath those jeans, and there’s no S on your chest.”