"Maybe she got laid last night." She bats her lashes at me, and hits me with a smile that's as brutal as a sucker punch.
I want to say more, keep this banter going, ask her what she's doing tonight and for the rest of the weekend and the week after, but I bite my idiotic tongue and pull back.
That's what I'm good at: staying cool, no matter what. This girl is already loosening everything I worked so hard to tie tight, and I can't afford it, much as it kills me to admit that.
In the parole office, I make sure that once I tell her what to do and who to talk to, I don't look directly at her again.
It's not exactly an easy task.
I can't remember the last time a girl made me sit up and pay attention the way this girl does. Even though I'm trying to keep my eyes on some boring as hell article in Sports Illustrated that I don't give a rat's ass about, I can't help but notice that her skirt is riding up, giving me an eyeful of smooth, tan thigh.
Some slick-haired jackass across from her is undressing her with his meth-bleary eyes, and I give him the fuck-off snarl that always sends guys with no backbone scampering like little bitches.
She crosses and uncrosses her legs, and my eyes follow the line of her thigh down to her ankle and along the curve of her arch, watching as her red high heel slides on and off the back of her foot, driving me insane for reasons I can't put my finger on.
"Evan Lennox."
Jan calls her name and crooks one finger, the nail painted some crazy bright orange. Jan is good people, and I relax knowing that Evan will get an okay assignment. Maybe she'll get stocking at the food pantry or sorting at Goodwill. Jan won't give a newbie the shit details like road pickup or mortuary cleanup.
At least I hope she won't.
I'm starting to sweat it about Evan by the time Kevon calls my name.
"Man, what're you doing back here?" His voice is too loud and jolly for parole. He should be one of Santa's elves or an aerobics instructor.
I shake his hand and refuse to wince when he almost takes my arm out of socket. I'm glad to see him, but I wish he'd stop screaming in my ear so I could eavesdrop on Jan and Evan.
"Drunk and disorderly, eh? Doesn't sound like you, Winch. You sure it was you, now?" His smile is so wide I can see his gold teeth, way in the back, but his dark eyes go serious. "Look, kid, I like you. I really do. But just because Schwenzer has a soft heart when your name comes on the docket doesn't mean you're safe. This is three, man. Strike three. I can't believe you didn't get time. Lucky, that's what you are. But you can only ride that so far."
He pauses his speech and puts his hands flat on the desk. "Hey. Hey! You listening to me?"
All I can hear is low murmurings, but Evan sounds upset. It's not my business.
It's really not my business.
I know Jan is fair, and it's probably just a case of a rich girl stamping her little designer heel over the fact that she has to rub shoulders with people at a homeless shelter or something.
Only, I can't really believe Evan would be like that.
Not that I know her.
Not that I should even be thinking about it, because she's not mine to think about that way.
I've got bigger, more important things on my plate.
I make sure I don't even glance her way, but Kevon is pretty hard to trick. He looks around me, not even bothering to be discreet, and raises his eyebrows.
"Alright. I'll let you off the hook for being distracted. I can't blame you for wanting to look at her instead of me. Winchester Youngblood, heart-breaker."
I shoot him an irritated face that I'm hoping communicates my desire for him to shut the hell up before she overhears, but my look only gets him going. "Oh, look at you, my man! Temper, temper. Alright, I'm not made out of stone. Give me a second."
I think Kevon must have serious family connections to have landed this stint, because this guy is the biggest pain in the ass parole officer ever, and I can't imagine how he got this a legit government job when he's always acting like he’s auditioning for some cheesy comedy sitcom.
Why can't he just stamp my papers, take my check, and let me go on my way? He has no business meddling in this girl's life, but there he goes, off to Jan's desk to shake hands and probably tell Jan how nice her crazy hair looks or some crap so he can wheedle out the information he wants.
Funny how when he's around me, he talks like there's a megaphone attached to his mouth, but now that he's over there with Evan, I can't hear a damn thing.
A few minutes later he walks back like he owns this sad little office, his smile smug as a fool's. I try not to look over, but I hear Evan thank Jan and say goodbye, then those sexy heels click on the floor, and I have to punch and jab at my urge to jump up and follow her out, beg for her number, take her on a date…at least take one more look before she's out of my life for good.
Like he can read my mind, Kevon asks, "You wanna run and get that lady's number? I'll wait."
"I don't need to get involved with a girl like her, Kevon. Can we get this party started? I have places to be."
I slide the papers over so he can sign and notarize everything, pissed that he got me to lose my temper and snap at him.
I never do that. I take a lot of pride in the fact
