Wicked Torture (Stark World 3)

I almost argue, but he's right. Besides, it's been a great day so far, despite--or maybe partly because of--the revelations about what happened during the years we were apart.

I navigate over surface streets so that he doesn't have to get back on MoPac, the North-South freeway that runs on the west side of town. Instead, we take South Lamar, and I point out some of my favorite places to shop and eat. Funky retail shops, consignment stores, bakeries, and, of course, Tex-Mex eateries.

When we reach my South Austin house just off Brodie Lane, he walks me to the door.

"Thanks," I say, once I've unlocked the place and am standing on the threshold. "I honestly wasn't sure when I saw you on my porch, but this was fun."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. It was a toss-up between Peter Pan or Hippie Hollow," he says, referring to the clothing-optional park on the shores of Lake Travis.

"And you chose the golf," I say, raising my brows. Then I flash him a flirty grin, before dipping my gaze down toward his crotch. I'm playing with fire, I know, but I can't help myself. "Too bad for me."

"Well, it's November," he says, his voice deadpan. "I figured the chill wouldn't show off my assets."

I snort with laughter as he winks, then turns his back and walks to his car.

I go inside, smiling happily.

All in all, it was a really good day.

13

"I flirted with him," I tell Ares the next morning, as we sit on the back porch, sharing the Sunday paper. "I shouldn't have done that."

He glances at me over the comics page, which he habitually reads first before diving into the actual news. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I repeat, my voicing rising with incredulity. Because, hello. Most obvious thing in the universe. "Because we're not together. Because it's a bad idea. Because therein lies the path to madness."

He studies me for a minute, then folds the paper and puts it on the small wooden table that sits between us. "You're serious."

"Don't I sound serious?" But he just shakes his head, and I sigh. "We talked. We both acknowledged that things have changed. We're different people now. And the whole idea of spending some time together yesterday was to just get to know each other again."

"Right. Still not seeing the problem."

I take a sip of my coffee, then sigh loudly. "Never mind." Clearly, I'll have to deal with my angsty, post-date remorse by myself. I glance at my watch. Only eight. Which means it's six in LA. Which means Celia will kill me if I call her for some BFF handholding.

"I'm going to get a fresh cup and a donut," I say. Donuts are Ares' Sunday morning vice, and being at my house isn't sufficient to change his routine. He actually got up this morning, jogged to the donut store a few blocks down on Brodie, then jogged back with a dozen warm, assorted donuts. I would call him out on the irony, but I'm afraid he'd banish me from Donutlandia.

I return with a fresh coffee and the entire box. I figure it's my duty to help him eat them, thus saving him from one of his vices.

"I thought you used to be so in love with this guy that the world stopped turning," Ares says, plucking a chocolate-covered donut from the box.

I grab a glazed. "I was."

"Then why are you fighting it now?"

"I--"

I pause, the donut not quite to my mouth. Because he'll hurt me. Because he'll leave. Because we don't even really know each other anymore.

Because I'm scared.

A million familiar reasons rattle around in my head, and each one is real and true. But for some reason, after yesterday, none of them are quite as scary as they used to be.

But that's a problem, too. Because I need to be smart. I know what happens when you let your guard down, after all.

"Because we're working together," I finally say, then shove half the donut into my mouth so that he can't interrogate me anymore.

"Uh-huh." He manages to convey worlds of disbelief in just his tone. So much, that I regret stuffing my mouth.