“That’s awful!”
Spider makes a noise of agreement. “It’s quite a mess, all around.”
I examine his face. “Sounds like there’s more to it than amnesia.”
Looking serious, he glances in my direction. “When Declan thought Diego had been killed…let’s just say he didn’t take it sitting down.”
“Oh, boy. That sounds murdery.”
“Aye. Retaliation in kind when a boss is killed is normal business. But with Diego alive, certain actions Declan took have been proven unnecessary. And with Diego not being able to recall who kidnapped him and locked him up, the whole thing’s one giant clusterfuck.”
I get that there’s going to be blowback on Declan for whatever murdery stuff he did to avenge Diego, and I don’t think it’s fair.
“But Declan has an excuse. He really thought Diego was dead. There was a body and everything!”
Spider chuckles darkly. “Tell that to the rest of the families.”
“Wow. I’m glad you can be so nonchalant about it. I think I’d be having a heart attack.”
He shrugs. “It’s the life. Never a dull moment. Dodging death keeps a man young.” He pauses. “What’s that screwy face for?”
“What you just said is probably the most macho thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not sure it was a compliment. Oh, look, a bookstore! Can we go in there?”
I point at an adorable little shop we’re passing by. The fa?ade is painted bright blue. Potted red geraniums line the big bay window in front. A few bicycles are parked outside beside a row of small café tables. People sip coffees and chat in the morning sun.
“Your wish is my command,” says Spider, smiling. He makes a right turn, taking us around the block.
“In that case, I wish for season tickets to the 49ers.”
Spider makes a retching noise. “Ugh. American football.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“You Yanks wear too many bloody safety pads. Wankers. And the helmets!” He scoffs. “To cover your dainty eejit brains.”
“Ah. I see where this is going. You’re about to extoll the manly virtues of rugby, right?”
He glances at me, grinning, before pulling into a parking spot at the back of the store. “Extoll?”
I say mildly, “Oh, shut up.”
As soon as Spider turns off the SUV’s engine, I open the door and hop out, collecting my laptop. When I turn around, he’s standing right in front of me.
Scowling.
Taken aback, I say, “What?”
He says crossly, “You’re supposed to let me open the door and help you out, lass.”
“Why? Do I look like I normally have trouble exiting vehicles?”
“No, because I’m a man, and you’re a woman.”
When I only stand there staring at him with my face scrunched up, he adds, “Also, I’m working. It’s my job.”
“You should’ve started with that.”
“Why?”
“Because then I wouldn’t suspect that you have old-fashioned, inflexible ideas about gender roles.”
He chuckles. “I do have old-fashioned, inflexible ideas about gender roles. But trust me when I say that they’re all to your benefit. Now, will you let me open the door to the bloody bookshop for you, or will your wee feminist ego insist we arm wrestle over it?”
I lift my nose in the air and sniff. “I wouldn’t arm wrestle you.”
I was trying to be snooty and dismissive, but he seizes the opportunity of my refusal to make a point.
“Of course you wouldn’t. You’d lose. Would you like to know why?”
Knowing where he’s going with this, I exhale a heavy breath and roll my eyes. “Because you’re stronger than me.”
“Aye. And that’s because…？”
“Because you’re a man, and I’m a woman.”
“Correct.”
“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”
“You’re not the first woman to tell me that.”
“Shocker.”
He grins. Then he closes the passenger door and guides me into the shop with his hand on the small of my back.
Conversation at the café tables stops dead as we pass. One women stares at Spider with her mouth hanging open so wide, I have to suppress a giggle.
Inside, we look around at the charming space. There’s a little coffee counter on one side of the store at the front, along with a few more small tables. The register is on the other side. Behind both, rows and rows of crammed bookshelves stretch all the way to the back of the building.