Page 22 of Fool Me Twice
“Language,” Hart said automatically, and Cane growled, pushing himself away from the wall and stepping into Hart’s space.
“Bigger things to worry about than my filthy mouth,” he whispered, smirking at the visible shudder that Hart tried his best to contain at his tone and proximity.
Hart moved back, putting distance between them and looking around self-consciously. As if anyone gave a shit about two random men talking in the middle of the street.
“Again, what can I do for you, Cane?” Hart asked, clearly agitated but controlling it. He couldn’t hide the red flush working its way up from his collar though.
Cane weighed his options. On one hand, he could keep pushing Hart’s buttons and see where it got him. The desire to lose himself in their push and pull was almost impossible to ignore. On the other hand, there was something seriously fucked up happening in his place of business and he wanted it sorted as soon as possible.
He could push Hart’s buttons along the way, he figured. Two birds with one stone—business and pleasure and whatever other stupid proverb Hart liked spouting on the daily.
“The curse you said wasn’t there,” Cane said.
Hart eyed him suspiciously. “What about it?”
“You were wrong.”
Hart bristled, chest puffing and jaw clenching. “I’m never wrong.”
“Well you are this time,” Cane said, closing the gap again and putting them nose to nose. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“You’re not cursed, Cane,” Hart said.
“Yeah, maybe I’m not. But someone, or several people around me are, and it’s fucking with my livelihood. So you’re gonna come back with me and fix it.”
“I will do no such thing,” Hart said, taking another step back as if Cane was about to kidnap him in the middle of the street in broad daylight.
“It’s literally your job, sweetheart.”
“And I came and did it. No curse was found.”
“On me!” Cane growled, finally drawing attention from the people around them. They whipped their heads around, side-stepping the two of them as they caught Cane’s eye.
“Keep your voice down,” Hart said, smiling at the people, trying to reassure them he was okay.
“Look.” Cane took a deep breath and shook himself out of the rage he was stuck in. “Can we put whatever the fuck is between us on pause for a second?”
“There is nothing between us,” Hart snapped, eyes flaring.
“Fine,” Cane said, pushing down the urge to grab him and prove him wrong. “If that’s how this is gonna go, have it your way, but I’m gonna need you to hear me out for ten fucking minutes.”
Hart stared at him, his breath coming out in short puffs as he tried to find a way to get himself out of the situation. Cane knew he’d do the right thing in the end.
He could see the moment Hart deflated. The second he accepted Cane’s conditions. His shoulders dropped and his eyes softened just a fraction. Enough for Cane to know he had an in.
“There’s a café just on the other side of this building. It wasn’t too crowded,” Cane said, indicating. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”
“I already had one,” Hart said, icy until the end.
“Since when is one enough for you?” Cane headed back toward the café he’d passed earlier. “Come on.”
He didn’t have to turn back to check whether Hart was there—he could hear his shoes clicking against the pavement behind him, could almost taste the tension in the air between them as Hart tried his best to keep enough distance from Cane while they walked.
He liked that he still had that effect on him. Stroked his ego quite a bit.
He led them to the nondescript café that looked like every other one in this place, picking out an empty table in the corner farthest away from both the street and the entrance to the building. Several tables around it were empty, and he felt they’d have enough privacy there to talk.
“Have a seat.” Cane gestured to the chair and Hart sank into it, crossing his long legs and folding his hands into his lap. Perfect. Unflappable. For everyone else.