“No…he doesn’t.” Thinking of Robbie made her chest burn, so she tried not to remember how he’d looked at her with such love and awe when she’d flipped those homemade flapjacks for him.

The waitress returned with her pot of coffee, and after she’d poured and left, Vin said, “I’m really hoping you’ll answer my question.”

For no good reason, she thought even more of Robbie. He was an innocent that she’d ended up dragging into a harsh life thanks first to the bad husband she’d picked and then the way she’d chosen to clean up the financial mess she’d found herself in. Vin was not dissimilar. The last thing he needed was getting sucked into the black hole she was trying to get out of—and he’d already proven he had a come-to-the-rescue complex. At least where she was concerned.

“It was just nonsense,” she murmured. “What you said was nonsense.”

“So if it doesn’t matter, there’s no reason not to tell me.”

She stared out the window at the river again…and called forth all her strength. “You said, ‘Rock, paper, scissors.’” As his eyes shot to her face, she forced herself to meet his stare and lie. “I have no idea what it means. To be honest, it was more what you looked like than what you said that made me nervous.”

Vin’s eyes bored into hers. “Marie-Terese…I have a track record with those kind of things.”

“Track record how?”

He resumed eating, as if he needed to do something to cut the tension. “In the past, when I’ve gone into that state and said stuff…it comes true. So if you’re keeping whatever it was from me for privacy’s sake, I understand that. But I strongly urge you to take whatever it was very seriously.”

Her cold hands squeezed her hot mug. “Like you’re some kind of fortune-teller?”

“You’re in a dangerous line of work. You need to be careful.”

“I am always careful.”

“Good.”

There was another long period of quiet, during which she stared at her coffee and he focused on his food.

It was pretty easy to guess that the “careful” thing was not just about creeps chasing after her. It was about other aspects of the job.

“I know what you’re wondering,” she said quietly. “How can I do it in the first place, and why don’t I stop altogether.”

When he eventually spoke, his voice was low and respectful, like he wasn’t judging. “I don’t know you, but you don’t seem like…well, some of those other women at the club. So I’m guessing something must be pretty damn wrong for you to be in that line of work.”