"What?"
"I think you don'twantto give them up."
She was right. I didn't.But this wasn't exactly news. "I know. I told you as much."
"And honestly, I think youlikelooking at them."
It was an accusation – and true, which made me feel like a giant shit-heel. But already, I'd promised myself that I wouldn't be looking again – not unless someone welched on the deal.
And inthatcase, she'd have bigger problems than me refusing to hand over the files.
When I didn't deny it, she said, "What are you doing with them, anyway?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, do you pull them out and laugh?"
I didn't get it. "Why would I laugh?"
"Why does anyone laugh?" she said. "Because they're funny."
My jaw clenched.They weren't funny to me."That'swhat you think?"
"Well, that must be it," she said. "Or you'd put them on a memory stick or something and letmehold onto them."
Some might agree with her logic.But me? I wasn't a trusting guy.I knew all too well that memory sticks could disappear the same as anything else, especially with a little help.
I said, "And you think they're safe on a stick?"
"Safer than with you," she said. "Because at least then I'd know that no one would be looking at them."
"I promise," I said, "I'm not gonna look." I meant it, too. I was done with that. Yeah, Iwantedanother look.Who wouldn't?But looking without her say-so made me feel like a total dick.
And, speaking of dicks, it didn't help that the brain down below liked the images nearly as much as I did. She was sweet and sexy, like the mythical girl next door, except ifshewere my neighbor, I'd be looking to move even closer.
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.What the hell?
I was supposed to be acting like a big brother, not some pervert at the window. Still, the thought ofanyonegetting their hands on those images, well, I didn't like it.
With a hard scoff, she said, "I mean, I know I'm not exactly Imogen."
Imogen?I wasn't following. "What?"
"I'm just saying, I've seenherpictures, like the ones she took at Flynn's place."
"So?"
"So I'm just saying I know you wouldn't need photos ofmeto get your kicks."
I turned to look. "You're kidding, right?"
"No." Her cheeks were red, and her mouth was tight. "But I’m just saying, I get it."
"Get what?"
"Youknow. There's that saying, why go out for burgers when you've got steak at home." She frowned. "Anyway, you get the gist."
I did.And I didn't like it. I told her, "I like burgers."
