Page 55 of Pink Ink

Just like the last time I saw him disheveled, I can’t help but resonate with him.

He lost his art, and right now, I’m losing mine.

I clear my throat, stepping out of reach of the stranger.

The two men are like night and day standing next to each other. Maddox, with his dark brows drawn together, five o’clock shadow, heavy bags under his eyes, radiating murderous energy. The other man with bright-blue eyes, an easy smile, and the kind of casual Shaw wishes he could convince people he had.

“You have to let me get you another one.”

I stare at the man standing beside Shaw. He looks like he could be my age. It’s hard to tell with the stubble he’s sporting. “Another what?”

He motions toward the coffee splattered across the floor. “It’s my bad. Really, I owe you another one. It’d be rude not to.” His eyes twinkle to match his dazzling smile.

If Kimi were here, it’d be a hook, line, and sinker.

“Uh, that’s okay.” I shoot an awkward glance over to Maddox, who’s glaring daggers at the space between me and the guy. My gaze shifts to the hand Pretty Boy has moved to my elbow. It’s soft enough that I barely notice his grip, but there’s no mistaking its insinuation.

“What about dinner, then? I know a really nice steakhouse overlooking the river. Consider it my way of apologizing.” He gives me a bashful grin. “The name’s Spencer by the way.”

Dinner?

For one stupefying second, my deranged little brain wishes it were Maddox asking me out instead.

The last time someone offered to take me on a date within thirty seconds of meeting me would have been at a house party freshman year. He was smashed and slurring his words. Since then, the only male who has shown a modicum of interest in me is Lawrence, and that’s clearly going fucking great.

“She’s busy.”

Our attention snaps to Maddox. From the bottom of my heart,what the fuck?

“She has an assignment coming up.”

Spencer stares at Shaw in confusion, and my brows hike up my forehead. Who does Professor Audacity think he is? I was going to say no, but now that Shaw said that, I’ve changed my mind. I’m now very interested in going to dinner with a complete stranger. Why not? I do far worse things.

“Actually, I’ve got time. I’m almost finished with my next film.” A complete lie. There is zero coherent thought swimming through my head right now. I need all the time I can get to frantically pull a fake murder together.

Either way, Shaw’s assignment isn’t due for a few more weeks. So what the fuck is he trying to imply here? That I need extra help or something?

Here I was thinking we were making headway after our interaction in the library.

I mean, I did visit a crime scene last night without Maddox, and I’m on the fence as to whether it was the Shadow. The artistry was there, but so was a bag of Cheetos and a packet of KitKats—my two favorite snacks—which is odd on so many levels. Both were placed near the body, modernizing the scene in a way that didn’t match his usual style.

The autopsy report Lawrence sent me provided that the victim had consumed an abnormal amount of almonds prior to his death. I’m certain it was the killer’s doing, I just can’t figure out why. My biased brain keeps pointing out my allergies, but that couldn’t have anything to do with it since the subject didn’t die from anaphylactic shock.

Still, I took photos and looked around in case I end up getting inspired by this kill that may or may not be his. My heart was pounding the whole time because I thought Maddox was going to waltz through the front door to tear me a new one for visiting another crime scene.

“She’s your… student?” Spencer asks slowly.

Shaw says, “Yes,” at the same time I say, “Not really.” It seems the only language we know how to speak to each other is combat.

Spencer narrows his eyes at my professor. “Definenot really.”

“It means she’s unavailable,” Maddox answers for me, wearing a mask of indifference.

I chastise the butterflies that are going for a joyride around my stomach. I’m meant to be livid over his whole controlling act, not ready to twirl my finger in my hair and giggle.

I whip a scathing glare his way, innocently answering, “It means that he’s substituting in for myactualprofessor—who should be back at work any day now.”

There are a million other things I’d rather do than go on a date with Casanova over here, but I’ll go if it means sticking it to Maddox.