He laughs. “‘Deal’ implies you have some leverage to utilize. If you don’t have that, I’d call this more of a ‘request.’ And even that’s being generous.”
“It’s a deal,” I insist. “I’m calling it that since I’m the one talking.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not how leverage works.”
“How would you know? Since when are you the one on this side of the bargaining table?”
That gets a small twitch out of the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t answer my rhetorical question. He looks at me for a second, then straightens up off my counter, rises to his full height, and puts his hands in his coat pockets.
It’s kind of terrifying. All joy and light get sucked out of the room. There’s only the bare bulb over my head and the emerald shimmer of his eyes. Everything else is dark and scary.
Suddenly, I’m
