Until Nico (Until 4)

“What about you? Do you work tomorrow?”

“Nah. I have some time off,” I reply, watching her closely.

She nods her head and looks around. “I never asked you—what kind of work do you do?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” I answer smoothly.

“Wow,” she says, her eyes getting big. “Like Dog?”

“You mean the TV show Dog the Bounty Hunter?” I ask, laughing.

“Yeah! I used to love that show!” She smiles and her cheeks turn pink. She lowers her head so her hair falls in front of her face.

“It’s nothing like that, but yeah, that’s what I do.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine and her face losing some of the color.

“It can be if you’re not smart,” I confirm with a nod.

“Are you smart?” Her words are quietly spoken.

“Always.” I watch in fascination as her eyes go from worried to respect.

“How often do you work?” she asks while taking another bite of the cookie.

“It depends. Sometimes once a month, and others, three times a week.” I shrug.

“That’s cool. I mean, it’s cool if you like doing it.”

“I do. I used to work construction with my brothers, but then I got into this by helping my cousin. I found I had a knack for it and haven’t been able to stop. And you, do you like what you do?”

“Yes. It’s not exciting, but I like it, and it pays the bills, so that’s a plus.”

I nod in understanding. “What about here? Do you like working at the school?” I ask curiously.

“This is what I love doing.” Her face lights up, her voice becoming animated. “I love books. Have since I was a little girl. I used to go to the toy store with my mom and walk out with a book. I guess I’m still like that to this day. I can’t go to the store without buying one.”

“It’s a good feeling, doing something you love,” I tell her, knowing how important it is to do things that make you happy.

“Yeah, it is,” she says and licks her fingers, and it’s in this moment that I know how unaware of herself she really is. She did that not knowing the effect she’s having on me. I doubt she even understands the way she affects men in general. It could be an act, but I seriously doubt it. She doesn’t seem like she’s trying to be seductive; she’s just being herself.

“Where are you from? You have an accent I can’t place,” I say, trying to clear the image in my head of her licking something else.

“I have an accent?” she asks, pointing to herself and laughing. Then she shakes her head and replies, “No, you have an accent. I sound normal.”

“You may sound normal to yourself, but to me—and I’m sure to a lot of other people around here—you have an accent.”

“I never thought of that.” Her head tilts to the side, her smile getting bigger. “I feel kinda cool. I always wanted an accent, though I wished it was a European one, but hey, I’ll settle for this.” She giggles, and my head goes back and I laugh harder than I have in a long time. When I lift my head and our eyes meet, hers are soft and her smile is gentle. “You have a really great laugh,” she says almost to herself.

Words are caught in my throat. I don’t know what it is she’s doing to me, but I feel completely off-kilter. I’m not used to the feelings I’m having. That’s why I tried to walk away from her the first time I saw her, but then she grabbed my arm and I looked down at her, and something in me shifted. I knew if I walked away I would regret it for the rest of my life.

“So I should probably go,” she tells me, looking away quickly.

My chest tightens in response. I don’t want her to leave, but I don’t want to scare her off either. “Can I get your number?”

“Um, I…” She studies me, her eyes searching my face. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

“Here. Just program it into my phone.” I pull my phone out of my back pocket and hand it to her.

“Oh…okay.” She presses the button on my phone, and in her concentration, her bottom lip gets a workout from her teeth.

My fingers automatically curve under her chin, pulling her lip down with my thumb so she releases it. Her head lifts and her lips part. Our eyes lock, and I fight the urge to lean forward and press my mouth to hers.

“Don’t do that, baby,” I say quietly before cupping my hand around hers, pulling her concentration back to my phone in her hand.

“Sorry,” she whispers, the pink tip of her tongue coming out to lick her lip, making me groan.

When she is done plugging in her number, I take the phone from her and press the call button. Her phone starts ringing and she pulls it from her bag. I slip it from her hand to look at the picture on the screen, and this time, it’s a picture of the ocean at sunset.

“Good girl,” I tell her, and I smile when her eyes narrow.

“I didn’t change it because of you. I just got tired of looking at that picture,” she says defensively, pulling the phone from my hand. I smile bigger, and I know it’s cocky, but I can’t bring myself to care. She slaps my chest with the back of her hand again, but I catch it before she can pull it away. “I’m serious!” she cries, making me laugh.

I tug her hand and she steps towards me. “I know you are.”

She’s standing so close that her apple-cinnamon smell floods my system. This close, I can see a small scattering of freckles along the ridge of her nose, and I also notice that her eyes have small golden flecks near the center but are almost black around the edges.

“You have a lot of tattoos.” Her softly spoken words pull my attention from her face to where she’s touching me.

“I do.”

I watch as her finger traces a few of the tattoos on my hand that’s holding hers. Her skin is completely unmarked. She’s so pure I d

on’t even want to touch her; something about her is too sweet for someone like me.

“I use to want a tattoo,” she says, sounding far away. Her face is still bent down, watching as her fingers wander over my skin. I’m so hard I’m surprised my dick doesn’t bust through my jeans to get to her.

“You don’t anymore?” I ask her.

Her head comes up, and she swallows, shrugs, and shakes her head.

Those alarm bells are going off again, but I don’t understand why. “So you never told me where you’re from,” I say, wanting to know as much as I can about her from just talking to her. I can have her background checked, and I will, but I still want her to open up to me.

“I’m from Seattle,” she answers quietly.

“What brought you here?”

“I was just ready for a change.” She shrugs and steps back. Someone who isn’t used to reading people may not have noticed the wobble of her chin or the way her little fist clenched at her side, but I did. “I really need to go. Thanks for the ice cream.” She pulls her bag closer to her body, almost as if she’s trying to protect herself.

I don’t move; I know she’s running, but I just don’t know what from. I definitely don’t want her to run from me.

“Any time, sweet Sophie,” I tell her gently. “Send me a text when you get home.”

She nods and opens her door. When it’s shut, she rolls down the window. “Bye, Nico.”

I lift my chin and watch her take off. I’m still standing there watching when she pulls out of the parking lot.

“She doesn’t date.” Fuck. My head drops, and I know exactly who’s speaking. “I tried, and a few other guys have tried, so don’t waste your time.”

“Did you ever think maybe she just doesn’t want to date you?” I turn around to face the guy from the office.

“Did you not hear me? I said she didn’t want to date me or anyone else that’s asked her.”

“Yeah? All that means to me is she’s got taste,” I tell him with a shrug.

“Whatever,” he says, walking off.

I shake my head in revulsion. I have known guys like him my whole life; they think if a woman doesn’t want them, then there must be something wrong with her, when in reality, it’s them.