Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)(27)

I frowned. Every time, it was like one step forward, two steps back. “Are you ever going to lose that chip you’re carrying around? It must be getting heavy after all of these years.”

Con’s grin faded, and I mentally kicked myself for being the cause.

Instead of getting pissed, he just asked me, “You ever not going to be a rich girl, Vanessa?”

It was an odd question. “I suppose it’s possible that I could lose everything. But the likelihood of that is probably not very high.”

“And am I ever going to be anyone but the foster kid Joy and Andre Leahy adopted?”

“I don’t follow.”

“We can’t change who we’ve been and how it impacted who we became. So the short answer: that chip on my shoulder is probably there to stay, princess.”

“So you’re saying because I grew up rich and you didn’t, at least initially, you’re always going to resent that part of my life and the person I became because of it?”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll see.”

“It’d be kind of disappointing if you did.”

“That’s life.”

“On that note, I think I’ll take that drink now.”

Con laughed, and we both relaxed again. He crossed back to where he’d been sitting when I’d first come up and produced two bottles of Abita from a bucket of ice. He popped off the tops and offered me one.

I grabbed it and lifted it in his direction. “Cheers.”

“Likewise.”

I took a sip and absorbed the cool, malty flavor before breaking the silence that had settled.

“I know we said we were moving on, but I’m still shocked you wanted to see me again after yesterday,” I said.

“Not as surprised as I was when you texted me.”

I covered my face with my hand, peeking out between my spread fingers. “I’m clearly insane.”

“Insane enough to agree to a favor?”

Dropping my hand, I raised an eyebrow. This should be good.

“I need you to go shopping with me.”

I almost choked on my beer. “Shopping? With you?”

My belly flipped at his crooked grin. “Trust me, it’s not something I want to do alone. I have four boys competing in a big boxing tournament in a couple weeks, and in order to make them feel professional, and to take this all more seriously, I want them dressed up on the way to the tourney. Like the pro athletes do. Wearing a suit on game day. You know what I mean?”

I pictured the boy from the dinner and the others I’d seen training in the gym. These kids were important to him. Now it was my heart that fluttered. He might have more baggage than a cargo hold, and that chip on his shoulder might never go away, but Con Leahy was a good man, with a good heart. “I think it’s a great idea.” I stared up at him. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Cool. I’ll let you know when and where,” he said, taking a swig from his beer.

“Is that all? Because this seems pretty elaborate just to ask me a favor.”

Con laughed and scrubbed a hand through his shaggy hair. “Figured it was a place you’d probably never been before.”

“You’d be right about that.”

I lifted my beer for another drink, but Con plucked it from my hand. “Wait.”

My empty hand hung in mid-air. “Uh. What?”

Con set both of our bottles down, and asked, “Do you trust me?”

I thought about our last encounter. “Should I?”

“Probably not.”

He reached out, brushing my hair over my shoulder.

“What are you—?”

“I want to kiss you while we’re both sober.”

My mouth dropped open, and Con wasted no time lowering his head and capturing my lips.

His lips were firm but smooth, and they worked over my own, daring me to open to him. His tongue teased, and I couldn’t help but let him inside. He tasted of the same beer I’d been drinking, but when mixed with Con, it took on a completely new kaleidoscope of flavors. I never really thought I’d have another chance to feel his mouth on me, and now that I did, I knew it was the worst idea I’d ever had.

I pulled back, stepping away from him. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

I turned and headed for the door. I reached it, my shaky hands tugging at the handle. It didn’t budge. Dammit. Locked.

From a few feet away, Con asked, “You want to know if I’m always going to be carrying that goddamn chip on my shoulder? Doesn’t help that you’re always running away from me like you can’t believe you got caught with your pants down with the lawn boy.”

“It’s not you—”

“You’ve said that. It’s not me. Well, I’m the only other person up here, so if it’s not me, then who the hell is it you’re running from?”

“Me! Don’t you get it? It’s not always about you! This is all too much.”

“So that’s it?” Con’s harsh breaths became louder as he inched closer. “Then why did you even agree to give me a shot?”

I rested my palms and my forehead against the cool metal of the door. My next words were so quiet that if Con hadn’t positioned himself beside me, there was no way he would’ve caught them.