Page 64 of Himbo Hitman
“Don’t get excited. It was that or a Seattle tourist shirt, and that was the only one with an animal on it.”
“Friends fur-ever …” I drag the word out and give Lars my puppy dog eyes. “You’re a big softie under all that Johnny Bravo swagger, aren’t you?”
“I don’t swagger.”
“But you are a softie.”
He still doesn’t acknowledge me.
“So what’s St. Clare’s deal?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like … why would someone want to kill him anyway? Is Saint Clare’s a front for something?”
“It’s a nightclub.”
“Yeah, but you know most nightclubs are a front for drugs … or, umm …”
“Umm?”
“Well,nefariousdeeds.”
“Nefarious deeds, huh? You watch too many movies.”
“It wouldn’t be so common in movies if it wasn’t true.”
Lars pulls out some crackers and cheese slices and throws them both at me. “If you’re eating, you’re not talking.”
“Not true. I’m talented enough to do both. At the same time.”
“No one wants to see that.”
“I’m just saying that if you think this will shut me up, it won’t.”
He hums and starts unpacking the bags. “I’ll remember fudge next time.”
“I’m up for the challenge.”
I don’t notice the sound of the shower has stopped before St. Clare joins us, clutching a towel around his waist, wet hair slicked back and dripping onto his neck.
“Did you find clothes?” he asks Lars, and it’s lucky no one expects me to talk because shirtless is a good look for him.
He’s not as big as I’d originally imagined, and I adjust that image to mesh with the real deal. Soft lines and round pecs and broad shoulders at odds with his trim waist. The towel is slung seductively low, and neither of them pays it any attention as Lars hands over some clothes and St. Clare turns to get changed in another room. As he walks away, I clock a drip of water slipping down the groove of his spine, and I follow its path all the way to the swell of his ass, barely covered by the fluffy material.
A loaf of bread hits my face, and Lars’s laugh follows it.
“What was that for?”
“Looked like you needed to come back to Earth.”
St. Clare is gone—pity—so I turn my attention to Lars instead. “How do youknowyou’re straight?”
He moves into the kitchen and starts putting everything away. Maybe I should help him, but this is an important discussion, and concentrating on more than one thing at a time isn’t my strong suit.
“I have a best friend who’s gay, have never been all that concerned about labels, but when it comes to attraction, all I’ve ever been interested in is women.”
“Right. That’s … conclusive. But tell me: what if it’s only ever women, and then, occasionally, you’ll see a guy who gives big Dom vibes, and that sort of does it for you?”
