Page 60 of Darling Psycho

“I’m going out,” she answered vaguely.

“To see Joshua Muller.” He stated.

“Have you been spying on me?”

Lounging against the counter, his sexy feet crossed at the ankle. She shouldn’t have been surprised by his simple answer, “yes.”

“Yes, just like that, you admit it? You’re insane.”

Why wasn’t she angry?

Why was it a little hot?

Shit, she’d lost her mind, hadn’t she?

And then something occurred to her.

“Are you the reason Judge has stuck to my ass like a pimp on payday ever since he got here?”

She didn’t need the answer. It was as obvious as the nose on her face. So why hadn’t she figured it out already?

She thought maybe it was Zara and Rider’s doing, wanting her safe at college. She’d thought it was a sweet, albeit unnecessary gesture, but now... now she was touched for other, more personal reasons.

Plus, Judge was now one of her closest friends. She couldn’t regret that.

“Yes,” he answered, calm as ever.

She cursed in Spanish. “You’re insane, Lawless. Who does that?”

Someone who cares.

He cared about her. And she was only just realizing how much.

Again, she repeated, “You’re insane,” but said it in Spanish.

She’d missed their Spanish conversations. She missed hearing her mama and papa’s voices saying sweet endearments or cursing each other out. They were a fiery couple who loved just as passionately. Their intense bickering would always end with a passionate kiss, embarrassing a younger Angela.

Now, though, she’d give anything to hear those memorable fights again.

“I’ve never denied it,” he answered in the same dialect, spoken perfectly.

Her stomach dipped.

The longing to hear him say more in another language was strong, but she was pretending to be mad at him for spying, so she went with that flow instead.

“You’re a manipulator.”

His raised eyebrow saidduh. “Have you met me?”

“Have you heard of a little thing called privacy, huh? How would you feel if I went around spying on you and siccing people to follow you? Bet you’d manly whine.”

A sharp, dark eyebrow arched on Lawless’ forehead like he thought she was the one speaking a foreign language now, and she had to bite back a grin. When Lawless got going speaking German, French, Italian especially, there were no dry panties in a mile radius.

One of the many things she’d admired about him was he learned languages like any other person would read a cereal packet.

Nothing was more attractive than a man who knew shit.

And Lawless knew a lot of shit.