“It’s not important,” Connor interrupts. “All that matters is he made it out.”
My brows rise at Connor’s quick interruption. Dusty gives me an awkward smile and shrugs one shoulder in apology. “Go ahead and ask.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You want to know why I was in, right?”
Damn, I do. I really do. Am I sitting across from a murderer or a rapist? Who is this man that Connor shared a cell with? I mean, Connor was in prison for manslaughter which is basically a murder sentence. Did Dusty kill someone too? But even though this man is sitting in my house, I still feel rude asking.
“I wasn’t going to ask,” I respond before taking a large sip from my mug.
Dusty chuckles, a look that oddly, despite his tattoos and shaggy hair, is quite handsome and endearing. “She’s every bit a lady, just like you said, Connor.”
My brows rise again for the hundredth time this morning. Connor told his friend about me and called me a lady?
Connor doesn’t turn to acknowledge his statement, but from where I sit I can see his mouth quirk up a smile. “That she is,” he agrees.
“Well, seeing as I’m sitting in your kitchen, drinking your coffee, I feel like you should know. And, seeing as how Connor is a good buddy of mine, and I hope to hang out with him more since I just moved here, and to do that, I might want to be invited back to your house, with your permission, of course, I feel I should tell you.”
His proclamation surprises me. Is it ridiculous to think him volunteering the details of his conviction is gentlemanly? “Dusty,” I say, as I lean over the table and pat his hand where it sits. His head rears slightly as if he’s surprised by the gesture. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I trust Connor. I know he would have never brought you in my house had he not trusted you wholeheartedly. And since you’re his friend, I hope I can call you mine, too.”
I stand and push in my chair. Connor has turned, his eyes fixed on me, an expression of awe on his face. I return a soft smile, letting him know I meant every word. I do trust him—wholeheartedly.
“I know I must look awful,” I huff. “Do I have time to wash my face and dress before breakfast is ready?”
“Ten minutes,” Connor responds, watching me with mirth filled eyes.
“Be right back.”
As I exit the kitchen, I can’t help smiling to myself when I hear Dusty say, “One hundred percent lady.”
It took me fifteen minutes to get back to the kitchen. I decided on a quick shower instead. Then I had to rewrap my toe. The cut doesn’t look so bad today, thankfully, and I find when wearing flip flops it’s manageable. Connor has set plates on the table and is dishing eggs out when the screen door creaks open. I close my eyes. Damn.
“Demi! Where are you at you two cent hooker?” Lexi rounds the doorway and stops in her tracks. She looks like she managed a shower this morning before showing up unannounced.
“Good morning, Alexis,” I mumble.
“Hey, Lexi.” Connor juts his chin in acknowledgment. “Want some breakfast?”
Lexi gives me a bright smile as she bats her eyes obnoxiously. “Why, I’d love some, Connor. How kind of you to offer.”
I shake my head as she scurries toward the coffee pot and pulls a mug from the cabinet above while Connor sits another plate out and dishes some eggs on it. When she finishes, she takes a seat on the other side of Dusty and smiles. “Hi.”
Dusty smirks as if he’s amused by her, but it’s not hard to see he likes looking at her. My sister is a beautiful woman. “Hi, yourself. I’m Dusty.”
“Lexi,” she answers sticking her hand out, and they shake.
“Friend of Connor’s, I presume?”
“Yes. The wild little sister, I presume,” Dusty responds. Lexi looks to Connor and twists her mouth in a smirk.
“So you’ve been talking about me, Connor? I’m flattered.”
“I’m sure he meant it as more of a warning to his friend,” I chirp, grinning at Lexi, so she knows I’m kidding.