Page 9 of Savored Sins
Now it’s my turn to narrow my eyes. “I swear to god, Zeke, if you ask me to sleep with you?—”
Zeke throws his head back and cackles. He puts a hand on his chest in a feigned display of shock. “God, how could you evensaysuch a thing? I wouldnever.”
“Look, I don’t have all day. You gonna tell me what you want or what?”
“Fine.” Zeke straightens up in his seat, looks me dead in the eye. “Last night—when I was at the door? I was sensing hella ghosts in your house, and I want you to let me film something there.”
“I’m sorry—what?”
“Your house, Autumn,” Zeke says, more in earnest now. “It’s got ghosts in it. I didn’t have time to get a feel for what the deal is, but I’m telling you, there isdramathere. The SyFy Channel’s got this competition for a new ghost hunting series they want to produce, and I need to film an entry for it—and whatever your ghosts have going on will make foramazingTV.”
I stare at him. I believe in ghosts—and there’s definitely something in my house—but this isnotwhat I was expecting.
“Okay…” I say. “Let me see if I understood this right. If I let you film some kind of television segment in my house, you’ll walk in my show.”
“Bravo,” Zeke says, clapping sarcastically. He grins at me. “And honestly, I’d say yes if I were you. Not only do you get your model, but you also get a free little ghost hunt out of the deal. Win-win.”
I study him for a minute. The way he’s sitting there with his arm slung over the back of the booth, holding eye contact the same way he did last night in my doorway, is incredibly hot. Twenty-three or not,heis hot.
And I need him in my show. I need the crowd he’s going to draw. And maybe this trade will be good. Maybe I’ll be able to use the main guest room again.
So I draw a sharp breath in through my nose and huff it out, letting him know thatIam the one doinghima favor. “Fine. Deal.”
Zeke nods, shoots me a smirk, and replaces his headphones without another word.
“Hey,” I say. I rap my knuckles on the table in front of him—because who the hell just ends a conversation like that?—and hold out my palm. “Where’s my key?”
Zeke pulls the headphones down again, making a big show of it like I’ve caused him some kind of great inconvenience. “Huh?”
“Key.”
“Oh, yeah.” He digs into the pocket of his jeans, keeping his eyes trained on me with that same stupid smirk on his face. He gives the keyring a little flip before placing it in my outstretched palm, taking care not to brush my skin as he does. “There you go, hot stuff.”
I snort. “Hot stuff? With that gaggle of girls by the window, I’d have thought you could do better thanthat.”
“Hmm.” Zeke flexes his jaw. Something in him has gone electric, and he tilts his head back to look me full in the face. His long fingers stroke the vinyl of the seat back as he grins. “You know what, Autumn? Challenge accepted.”
“Okay, whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes at him. “Swing by the shop on Wednesday and I’ll get the pieces altered.”
Zeke snaps the headphones back over his head, gives me a facetious little wave, and goes back to whatever he’s doing on his laptop. As I turn on my heel and make my way to the counter tofinallyget my coffee, I resist the urge to glance back at him, see if he’s watching me.
I don’t know what the hell kind of challenge he was talking about. I mean—scratch that. Idoknow. I’d be an idiot not to know. But once again, those icy blue eyes of his have done something to me. Knocked me off my game. And honestly, as much as I hate to admit it, I kind ofwantto find out what else he’s got up his sleeve.
…or in his pants.
I’m kind of curious about that, too.
six
ZEKE
Zeke: Yo. What’s for dinner?
Will: You don’t live here anymore!
Zeke: So????
Phoebe: I want dinner.
