Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(31)

“Gotcha.”

“I mean, I know he loves me. But when my mom ran out on us . . . I guess he feels like he needs to keep eyes on me so I don’t go and do the same.”

“You’re a grown woman.”

I roll my eyes. “Try telling that to my father.”

“We lost our family some time ago,” he adds, shifting closer. His eyebrows are drawn, as if it causes him pain simply to talk about it. “For the longest time, Charlie wouldn’t talk or eat. I wasn’t much help then. Our parents and sister were in an accident, and instead of being grateful to have survived, I resented being left behind. It took a few months for me to process everything, and while I was processing, Charlie became the kid everyone bullied. Now, he needs a boost of confidence. That’s not fucking coming if he keeps getting beat up every time he heads off to school.” He sighs and clenches his jaw, playing with a fry for a second before tossing it back into the basket. “Anyway. I’ve got plans for him. Big plans.”

“Like what?”

“Send him to a solid, good private school. Giving him the best chances I can to make something of himself.”

I nod in agreement, this revelation inspiring me and my thoughts about him. It hurt me, to lose my mother. But as far as I know, she still breathes. But to lose your whole family?

“So you raised him on your own? Didn’t you have relatives who could help?”

“None who were in any better shape to help. My cousin Maria stayed with us during the school year. Her parents were drug addicts, and she cared for them more than they cared for her. The only stability she had was my parents, and I wasn’t about to take that away from her when we lost them.”

“So you supported her too?” I can’t wrap my head around it. “How old were you?”

“I’d just turned eighteen.”

“James.”

He shakes his head and sticks his hand up. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I did what I had to do. I did what I wanted to do.”

“And Maria?”

He smiles slowly. “She graduated with honors. Fell in love with radiology and became a tech. Married her first patient. Can you believe that?”

“I’m so happy for her, for them!”

His laugh is easy and hypnotic. “So am I. If you’re ever around them for a minute, you’ll know that they’re exactly where they need to be. They can’t keep their hands off each other.”

“If only the rest of us could be so lucky.” My eyes meet his, and I become increasingly twitchy and look away.

So that’s why he’s a daredevil. That’s why he does what he does. He was all alone. And that’s why maybe . . . in some subconscious part of him . . . his troublesome relationship with death keeps him coming back to taunt it over and over again. Or maybe it’s not all that complicated. Maybe he just likes the adrenaline rush.

As I think these things, I realize James is stealing fries from my basket.

I glare at him and pull my basket a little closer. “Hey. Don’t put your fingers in my basket unless you want to lose them, okay?”

He lifts his hands, palm up, as if he’s innocent. Yeah, right.

“What?” he demands as he lowers his hand suspiciously close to my basket again. “You’re a pinchpenny with your fries?” He steals one from my basket again, popping it into his mouth and munching, savoring it.

When he grabs yet another one, he sticks half into his mouth and leans forward. As if expecting that I—me—will lean over and bite the other end straight out of his mouth.

“Ew. I’m not. Here. Have them all.”

I push my basket toward him, flustered when he smirks and grabs the end of the fry, pushing the rest into his wickedly sexy, smirking mouth.

James tsks and pushes back my basket. “I’ve got some, thanks. Just want to eat a few of yours. Taste better, for some reason. Yep.” He nods when I can only gape with an open jaw. “What? Did they give you special ones?”

Noting the twinkle in his eye, I shove at his hard shoulder and shoot him a glare. “Of course they do. I’m special everywhere. And if you paid attention, I’m trying to make you special too,” I joke.

“Your money is the same as everyone else’s here, Elizabeth,” he says with exaggerated somberness; then he lifts his lidded drink, sipping from the straw.

I smile, suddenly not being able to remember an evening like this one. Where I didn’t have to worry about anything and simply enjoyed. “Thank you for the burgers. I was thinking that maybe it’s too stressful for you to be trying on all our suits with Michael and the Banks team milling around. So maybe we can continue with you trying on our suits at my place tomorrow—gives us more privacy until you’re ready?”

“You mean you don’t want me to be out in public yet,” he says, setting down his drink and looking around. “At least, your public. Got it.”

“What? No . . .”

His glance falls momentarily to my lips. “It’s okay. I do what the boss tells me. And believe me. I’d dig the alone time.”

Trying to distract him and get rid of the awful knots in my stomach, I reach out to toss a fry to his chest. “I need a good night’s rest. Take me home, kind sir.” I raise my hand exaggeratedly.

He stares at the back of my hand. “Now what?” He lifts those thick-lashed eyes of his to mine.