Dark Child (Wild Men 5)
“I’m not—You know what?” He pushes hair out of his eyes. “Forget it.”
“I just wanted to ask your name.”
“My name?” He gives a harsh laugh, turning back toward me, and God, I should be walking away, but I’m still staring at him—at his chiseled jaw and full mouth, at the blond strand of his hair falling on his forehead, and at how his scruff catches the light. “Ah, what the hell. I’m Merc.”
Wait… “Merick?”
“Merc, goddammit. Merc Watson.”
“Okay, Merc Watson. Sorry I asked.” Yeah, this was a big mistake. My turn to make my escape. “Have a nice day.”
But I’ve barely taken a step away, when his hand clamps around my wrist.
“Wait, don’t…” He lets out a long breath. “I’m glad you asked, okay? Can we start over?”
I give him a narrow-eyed look. “Sure.”
“How about a coffee?”
My eyes must be bugging out of my head, like in the cartoons. He’s asking me out? I mean, for a coffee?
Focus, Cos.
“Suuure?” I take a bracing breath. “I mean, sure!”
“Okay, good.” A light flush rises to his face, making his clear blue eyes brighter. He’s gazing down at me from his considerable height, and seems to be thinking, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.
I’m thinking too, and it hits me that maybe this wasn’t a very good idea. “Um, listen…”
“How about now?” he says. “There’s this small diner around the corner.”
“Sure, okay.” God, I sound like a broken record.
He tugs on the strap of his messenger bag, settling it again on his broad shoulder, and flashes me a quick, crooked smile that turns my insides to mush. “Let’s go.”
Merc Watson is funny.
“And then I knocked on the window, and she screamed like, I dunno, like a banshee on crack or something.” He grins, and I blink stars from my eyes.
“You didn’t.”
“Sure did. Then she chased me around the house with a broom. She caught me and made me wear a bow in my hair the whole day.”
“Your sister.”
“Yeah.”
“Gige.”
“Gigi. Short for Augusta.”
“Of course. Because the other one is called…”
“Octavia.”
“Octavia, right. And you’re Merc. From Mercenary?”
“From Mercury.”