Her eyes went wide. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Seriously, Evie. Say that again.”
She swallowed. “Are you flirting with me?”
Now I was watching her throat. “I don’t flirt. Ever. There’s no point.”
She put down her drink, flustered, and licked her lip. I couldn’t stop staring. Finally she looked me in the eye. “You really are a bad boy, aren’t you? Like, the real thing.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I said, my voice thick. “Does it mean I get in your pants?”
Her pupils were dark as she looked at me. “I think you’re actually coming on to me,” she said. “Your version of it, anyway.”
Was I? I didn’t know. All I knew was that if we fucked, it would be hot and hard and we’d both get off in minutes. “You want me to?” I asked her.
“I thought you didn’t want in my pants,” she replied. She lifted her chin a little. “I’m not your kind of woman, remember?”
Right. She was a good girl. I needed to behave. “And I’m not your kind of guy.”
“Not even remotely,” she said.
I’d heard what she said back at the gym about wanting to get married, wanting a schedule. No, I was definitely not her kind of guy. “You take my advice yet?” I asked her.
“I thought I just did,” she replied, confused. “Coming to the boxing gym for my anger management problem.”
“No, the other advice. To find someone to fuck.”
The first time I’d suggested it, she’d been outraged. Now she looked out the window pensively and bit her lip. And something inside me woke up and roared to life. She can’t possibly have done it already. It’s only been a few days. No fucking way. She would have—
“No,” she said.
The beast calmed down.
Evie looked at me. “Have you?”
I shrugged, as if this whole conversation didn’t affect me. Jesus, I was losing my mind. “No.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Really? I mean—I’m surprised.”
I’d said I was considering it in the diner, but the fact was it hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d just been trying to shock her. “Why are you surprised?”
Now, finally, she looked slightly embarrassed. “Because I heard rumors about you.”
“Yeah? They’re probably wrong.”
She worried her lip again. She was polite, and she didn’t like to gossip. “I heard you come from family money,” she admitted finally.
“Okay,” I said grudgingly. “True.”
“And you don’t have a job and you party all the time.”
“Also true.”
“And you get a lot of women.”
“Define ‘a lot.’”
She shook her head. “Okay, I admit I didn’t actually hear that last one. It was an educated guess.”