Page 6 of Revere

“I’m a criminal psychology major.” I bite my bottom lip, snagging his attention. “So it’s not creepy that I’m interested in murder, just for the record.”

“Once again, not judging.” Jacob smirks. “Seems you do that plenty on your own.”

My eyes narrow. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“I know.”

His response catches me off guard because there’s no hint he’s mocking me. His expression is flat.

How could he know nothing is wrong with me? Everyone else seems to think that there is.

I’m too harsh. Too judgmental.

I have too many sharp edges when the world would prefer me to be soft.

My mother tried to engrain that into me, but the harder she pushed, the more I resisted. I’d rather everyone hate me for holding my ground than bend to their will for even a second. Letting them see me weak is what they want.

Jacob clears his throat, and I realize I’m staring at his lips. How full they are. How the scruff on his jaw perfectly frames them. How everything about him is hard—from his muscles to his stare—but his lips seem soft.

And I need to stop thinking about them.

“What about how long a chicken can survive without its head?” Jacob asks.

“That’s disgusting.” My face puckers. “Besides, you don’t need to recite facts to me.”

“Would you prefer we talk about something else? Your favorite color, maybe?”

“You don’t have to entertain me.”

“Maybe I’m curious.” His smile tilts, drawing out the squareness of his strong jaw. The brush of stubble casts shadows, angling it farther.

“I doubt that.” I roll my eyes. “And even if you were, what if you’re just asking me these things because you have ulterior motives?”

“Like having a less boring flight to LA?”

“Like you being a serial killer trying to learn the details of my life so you can hunt me down and kill me later.”

He laughs. It’s deep and throaty and makes my ribs tight.

“Do you run into serial killers on planes often?”

My eyebrows furrow. “No. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t one. Anyone can be a serial killer, you know. Even someone like you.Especiallysomeone like you, in fact.”

“Someone like me?”

I snap my mouth shut because I probably should not have said that.

“Please…” He leans back, a picture of relaxation. “Enlighten me, Patience. What about me screamsserial killer?”

I glare at him and his ridiculous ego. Jacob wears his confidence like a second skin. It would be hot as hell if he weren’t so incredibly full of himself.

“You’re clearly successful. These seats cost a decent amount, so I’m guessing you have money.” I skim my gaze over him. “But you’re understated about it. No labels. No watch to indicate your wealth. So you don’t want people to know the extent of your success, assuming you want them to know anything about you at all. Everything from your plain black carry-on bag to your modest suit is unassuming. Oh, and you’re charming.”

“Am I?” He grins.

“Yes.” I roll my eyes. “And you know it. You wield it like a weapon.”

“Here you are back to assuming I’m dangerous.”