Wicked Bite (Realm Enforcers #5)(57)

Color bloomed across her face. "You're a crass bastard."

"Yeah. I am." He gave her a slight shake. "I'm also not fuckin' around. What the hell is wrong with you?"



       
         
       
        

"You believe in truth and not having secrets. So much truth." She rolled her eyes. "You're a damn liar, you are. Seriously."

The words should have sent him into orbit, but there was a hint of hurt behind the sarcasm. What could he have possibly done to hurt her? He breathed out slowly and tried to calm himself until he could figure out the truth. "All right, Nessa. What have I lied about?"

Her eyes sparked. "You're rich," she hissed. "Not a little, but a whole bloody shitload of a lot. You're loaded, Bear McDunphy."

He frowned. "So?"

"So?" Her voice rose. "You live in a shack. Your jeans are older than anybody on this plane."

He shook his head. What was wrong with his jeans? "Again, so?"

She sat back. "You're hiding your money. Pretending you're poor."

He scratched his chin. Had she lost her mind? "I'm not pretending or hiding." Man, life was confusing. No. Forget that. Women were confusing. "I like my cabin and there's nothing wrong with my jeans. Not once did I tell you I was poor." He grimaced. "This plane is mine. I don't like it, and I really don't like flying, but I have a plane. It's better than flying with other people. With humans."

She blinked several times.

He relaxed his hold on her, but he wasn't ready to let her up yet. The hurt had been real, and it wasn't just about money. "Why are you bothered if I have money, Nessa?"

A guilty flush wound over her face.

He watched, fascinated. Then he clicked facts into order. "Wait a minute." She worked for the Coven Nine. The Enforcers had been recalled, and now Apollo was back on the streets. Humor bubbled up through him, and he snorted. "You think I'm distributing Apollo?"

She shifted uneasily on his lap.

It slapped him then. "Oh my God. You thought I might be the manufacturer?" His breath heated, even as his mind spun. Part of him wanted to laugh his ass off, and the other wanted to beat hers. "So you're investigating me?"

Her shoulders went down. "Aye."

Wow. That kinda hurt. "Ness? Did you really think I was behind Apollo?" He smoothed curls away from her face.

"No," she mumbled. "Not until I saw how much money you have."

"By hacking into my accounts?" he guessed. That should piss him off, but truth be told, he didn't much care. "Why not just ask?"

She tilted her head. "If you were behind Apollo, would you just have admitted it?"

Okay. Good point. "No." But she should've said something the second she'd found the accounts. Of course, if she was half as thrown by their mating experience as he was, he could understand her wanting to regroup a little. "Witches always have multiple agendas," he muttered. So she'd come to town to heal him, investigate him, and mate him to gain the ability to throw fire. Yep. It figured. "I'm not creating or running Apollo, baby." 

"All right." Her gaze fell again.

He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. "What else, Nessa?"

She sighed. "Smitty called. Wanted to know if you were meeting him this Thursday."

Dumbass Smitty. "Damn it. Smitty has a big mouth." Bear shifted uncomfortably in the seat.

Her gaze rose. "You admit it. You've been shifting back to human once a week for the last few months. When everyone thought you were in bear form the whole time."

Heat climbed up the back of his neck and spread to his chin.

She watched, her gaze interested. "Bear? What exactly have you been doing once a week?"

He cleared his throat. His ears burned. "Does it matter? Maybe I just had some human stuff to do."

Her shoulders hunched. "Fine. Okay."

No, it wasn't okay. He'd demanded honesty. "Remember the shirt you borrowed? The Pontsey Porcupines shirt?"

She leaned back to study him. "Aye. Why?"

He looked away and back. "Fine. All right. I coach a baseball team-the Porcupines. Games are on Thursdays, and I couldn't think of a way to just disappear. Too many of these kids have had folks leave them already." His chest filled. He felt like an idiot. "They're a mismatched group of lost human teenagers, and I've got them playing baseball." Defensiveness rose in him, and he sat straighter.

"Baseball?" Her eyes softened to the color of spring bluebells.