Charity For Nothing: The Virtues Book III by A.J. Downey Page B

snoop through my shit.”
    “I hardly think looking at some photographs in plain view constitutes snooping,” I snapped.
    He pushed off the doorframe with a snort, “Whatever. I was coming to see if you wanted something to eat.”
    “The power gone out?” I asked.
    Nothing raised his eyebrows, “What do you think?”
    “I think you’re behaving like a real cocksucker, that’s what I think,” I muttered dispassionately.
    He bowed his head, and let it bounce a couple of times before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling to ease the tension between his shoulders. I knew it for what it was, I did the same thing.
    “Fair point, well made,” he conceded.
    “What I can’t exactly figure out is why?”
    He gave a Gallic shrug, “Maybe that’s just the kind of guy I am.”
    It was my turn to raise my eyebrows, “Really? The same guy that carried me from my Jeep to his bed so I’d feel more comfortable?” I asked.
    He smiled, and it changed his whole face into something different, something beautiful, like an angel that’d fell to earth… or a devil. Wasn’t Lucifer an angel once?
    “Fair enough. Hungry?” he asked.
    “Is there coffee involved?”
    “Power’s out, but I’ve got some energy drinks in the fridge, still cold I think.”
    I made a face, “Those are so crap for you.”
    “And coffee isn’t?”
    I gave him a look that said clearly, ‘don’t be stupid’ and he laughed this time. I hugged myself and went towards him, he reached out and I just automatically shied back. I still felt gross and I think he knew it. His face fell and he nodded, I hoped an apology was coming but no dice.
    He just gave me the next best thing instead, “I’m clean, for real. Guess I just felt the need to teach you a lesson.”
    “What, to never, ever trust a guy again? Lesson learned.”
    A stormy look crossed his face, a scowl, but I don’t think it was aimed at me. He stepped aside and gestured, saying “After you.”
    I stepped past him and padded barefoot down the hall to the kitchen. I must have been asleep longer than I’d thought because the motorcycle seemed to be mostly back together, fewer pieces littering the newspaper, which also seemed to have been picked up and refreshed, new lying on the ground.
    “What was wrong with it?” I asked.
    “Critical leak, needed to replace some gaskets, it’s almost done.”
    “How long was I out?”
    “Long enough. Can I ask you?” I turned to look at him and waited patiently for the question. ”Why’d you crash in your car? You could have just asked me…” I cut him off.
    “What, like I asked if you were clean?” He had the decency to look at least halfway chagrinned.
    “Right,” he said instead and held out a plate of food to me, a sandwich, but not like the ones I’d brought with me. Something he’d likely crafted.
    “An apology come with this?” I asked softly and my gaze flicked up to his. His gray eyes were shuttered tight, his walls high and impenetrable.
    “Nope.”
    “Fucking great,” I muttered taking the plate.
    “You need to be more careful,” he intoned gravely.
    “Thanks, Mom.”
    “I’m not your mother, Charity. I’m not your daddy either,” he said when I opened my mouth to be flippant. I shut it resolutely.
    “You’re an asshole,” I said finally and he nodded, but there was no smile attached to the movement.
    “I won’t disagree with you there,” he said and it was the last bit of talking that we did. He went back to working on his bike and I hoisted myself up to sit on one of the kitchen counters and eat my sandwich. A bite or two in, he rose and wiped off his hands with a rag. He turned opening up the fridge beside me, and wordlessly handed me an energy drink. I eyed him warily and took it, cracking it open. It was cool, but not cold, which I could live with.
    I finished the sandwich and sat and watched him work for a while before working up the nerve to ask him, “When does it look like I can leave?”
    He