Infinityglass (Hourglass 3)

“Okay. Let’s get it done, then.”

The Garden District went by in a slow and beautiful blur. I was usually thinking too hard about the job I was about to do to appreciate the view.

I followed Dune into a classy lobby. Black-and-white-checked floor. Fancy lighting. A shiny-faced girl sitting at a desk in the office smiled at him, all wide-eyed and hopeful.

“Hi, Dune!” Cheery, too. Probably one of those genuinely sweet girls who had lots of friends.

“Hey.” He waved and smiled back.

Jealousy roared to life, and I stepped into her line of vision.

The smile faded when she saw me. She was cute enough that I wanted to do something outrageous, like smack him on the ass or put my hand in his back pants pocket, just to make sure she was clear about where things stood.

“Her name is Jodi.” He leaned over to whisper in my ear as we stepped into the elevator. “She’s here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. And she’s not you, so there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

If Jodi had access to the camera view of the elevator, she got a good eyeful for the next thirty seconds.

Dune looked a little dazed when we exited. “Jealous Hallie is … I don’t even have words.”

“You’re welcome.”

He grinned and slid the key card into the slot, then took my hand and stepped into the apartment. Poe was on the couch.

“Long time no see,” I said.

Poe was more than a little surprised, meaning Dune hadn’t given him a heads-up, which meant Dune’s loyalty was to me. I liked it.

“Hallie.” He stared at our joined hands.

“That’s what they call me.” I didn’t let go of Dune. I knew where my affections fell, and I wanted to make sure Dune knew, too. Even though jealous kissing was maybe my new favorite thing ever, and I wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end of it.

Poe got right to it. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to need a lot more than an apology.”

“We have a lot to talk about,” Poe agreed.

I turned to Dune. “Do you mind?”

He gave my hand a squeeze and disappeared down the hall.

Same as he was the first time I saw him, Poe was stuck somewhere between sexy and scary.

“You look like crap.” I joined him on the couch.

“You look hot.” British boys. Full-blown charm the second they opened their mouths. Poe and I usually had a way of understanding each other without saying a lot, but this situation was going to require multiple explanations.

“I was worried about you.”

“I was worried about me, too.” He lifted up his shirt.

The scar ran diagonally, obviously a slash rather than a precise cut. It was pink and raised.

“I’m assuming you didn’t try to give yourself a liver transplant.”

He grinned and dropped his shirt. “I assume you’d probably like to know how all this happened.”

“You think?” I didn’t hide the sarcasm.