Page 172 of Himbo Hitman
I puff out my chest. “One that comes with a qualification.” I’m going to hold them to that part.
“I … fuck. Congratulations.”
I accept his congratulatory kiss, wishing we weren’t standing on a street in broad daylight so that he couldreallycongratulate me.
“Careful,” I tell him. “I’m going to know more about running a bar than you soon.”
“It wouldn’t be hard, if we’re honest.”
“Hey! Maybe we could go into business together one day.”
“Or maybe we focus on getting your medical bills paid down before we start getting ahead of ourselves.”
Elle had offered to pay them off for me, but if she did, when does it end? I’ve always been bailed out my whole life; now, it’s time for me to fix things myself.
With alittle bitof help from St. Clare.
After all, I took a bullet for him. As far as I’m concerned, this injury was equal parts both our fault and would have happened whether I mistakenly shot off his ear or not.
Which he’s been gracious enough not to bring up for at least a week now.
All in all, I’d say watch out, there’s a new power couple in town.
“We’ll franchise,” I tell him. “Saint Nikov’s. Peilly’s. Niclare’s. We’ll workshop it.”
“Perry …”
“I suppose Colin can be involved too.”
“You suppose?”
“Well, he does know the most about the boring stuff.”
“Mkay.”
“And I can make us a signature drink.”
“Of course. In this far distant future where you’re a skilled mixologist and we have the financial freedom to do anything we want.”
Despite his words, I can see it. Not only the future, but he’s giving me that look. The one that tells me even if I don’t believe in myself, he thinks I can do anything.
And I can.
So long as we do it together.
CHAPTER 54
ST. CLARE
SIX MONTHS LATER
.
“I don’t know about this,” I say, determined to sound confident and not at all like I’m bracing from going ass-over.
“What’s to know?” Perry asks, as relaxed putting on roller skates as he is about anything else he attempts. He tugs the laces of his skate as tight as they’ll pull then does them up in a triple knot. We’re both wearing padding and gloves and helmets, while kids half our size whizz past completely unprotected.
For the love of Judge Judy—yes, it’s rubbed off on me—that kid is skatingbackward. If he can do that, surely I can manage to stay upright.
