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He bit down again. “That’s a different sort of meal, Raven. Then again, maybe no guy ever made you aware.”

He cursed when he realized what he just said.

I didn’t defend Louis.

It wasn’t my place, and part of me was sort of embarrassed to have to lie and say he did when he didn’t. We’d had a fewstolen moments months before he died—he swore it would get better once the threats stopped, that we’d have real time alone, meaningful time.

More celery crunching jerked me from my contemplation.

I pointed the remote at the plate. “I’d rather survive off my own spit, thank you.”

"You don’t like vegetables?”

"Is that a romantic deal breaker? Damn it, and I was so close to seducing you, but alas I don’t like celery. I had a very traumatic incident involving peanut butter. We don’t talk about it.”

“Were you allergic to peanut butter?” He took another bite.

“I think it was more the dick that the peanut butter was covering.”

Ace started choking wildly on his celery stick.

I got up and slapped him on the back. “I was kidding, but it was worth it.”

“Who puts”—He coughed again—“peanut butter on their dick anyway?”

I slapped his back a second time. “Maybe someone who doesn’t want the sucking to stop?”

"That would be a lot of throat action.”

“Might sprain a tongue.” I added.

He rolled his eyes. “Something’s wrong with you.”

“I know.” I set the remote down. “I’m going to shower,” I mumbled, mostly to escape the weight in my chest.

Ace stood immediately, all hard lines and unreadable expression, wow, right back to square one where tin man forgot he had a heart.

“I’ll go first.” His tone left no room for debate. “I need to check the perimeter anyway.”

“You do that,” I muttered. “Take the celery with you, maybe it'll cleanse your soul.”

“Souls are for people who sleep.” He was already walking away. “Don’t open any doors.”

I held up my hands. “No promises if it’s pizza.”

"Even if it’s pizza.” He turned and pointed at me. “Trust no one.”

"I changed my mind.Youshould shower, you smell.”

Amazing.

But I’d never tell him that.

He always seemed to smell good no matter what he did, but he was the type of guy that was extremely unaware of how he affected the people around him. Or maybe he was aware, but he just didn’t care. People always stared in order to gain his attention or they whispered about him, but he never seemed to care enough to respond.

Maybe he really was like a eunuch.

He could use his equipment but felt no pleasure from it, meaning he was pretty much the safest person to have around me since he’d never take advantage of me. Maybe that was my dad’s plan all along.