Page 19 of Robbin’ the Rich

It somehow fit her perfectly. Her sharp edges were softened by things she loved. I was learning little tidbits about her that I instantly liked.

“You can tell a lot about a person from their apartment,” I said as Robin casually kicked off her boots.

“Should I be scared?”

“You should definitely be concerned.”

She disappeared briefly into the kitchen while I took in the rest of the space more carefully. Even while dimly lit, I could tell the kitchen was practical. It wasn’t empty exactly, but very clearly the kitchen of someone who viewed cooking as optional.

The fridge glowed open while Robin grabbed bottled water. All I saw inside was some takeout containers, a few energy drinks, some eggs, and juice. There were however three different coffee creamers for reasons I desperately wanted explained.

“You want water? Beer? I think I have leftover margarita mix from derby night.”

“Water’s good.”

She handed me a bottle and leaned against the counter while watching me with that same assessing look she always wore at Trixie’s, like she was trying to solve me.

Meanwhile I was becoming increasingly fascinated by her apartment, and by extension, her. Back in the living room, I noticed the entertainment setup more fully. There was a huge TV with multiple gaming systems, and an alarming number of controllers.

“You game?” I asked.

Robin snorted. “No, I just collect expensive electronics for decoration.”

“I don’t know. Rich people buy weird sculptures.”

“Rich People? I think you’ve got the wrong place.”

“I try not to judge.”

She laughed softly and motioned toward another room. “Office is in there.”

Curiosity got the better of me. I glanced inside and nearly stopped in the doorway. Okay. That was not a normal office setup. Massive dual monitors glowed across an elaborate desktop arrangement that looked part gaming rig, part NASA command center. Mechanical keyboards. LED lighting. Expensive hardware. A custom PC setup that probably cost more than my car.

My eyebrows lifted slowly.

“Robbin’ Banks,” I said carefully. “Are you secretly a supervillain?”

“Depends who’s asking.” Her voice was suspiciously calm.

“You have the computer setup of someone who’s either really into gaming or actively being monitored by the FBI.”

“Why not both? Robin Sherwood, accountant by trade, Robbin’ Banks, derby supervillain by night.”

“There is no way you're an accountant.”

“Well, believe it or not, that’s what I get paid to do.”

God, she was hot. The more I learned about her, the more interesting she became. She was equal parts roller derby girl, gorgeous, mean in a fun way, and a secret computer nerd. My heart was in actual danger. Robin leaned against the office doorway watching me take everything in, amusement flickering across her face.

“You done judging my apartment, Father?”

“Not even close.”

That earned me another smile. Then she stepped closer, fingertips brushing lightly against my wrist. And just like that, every other thought evaporated.

“Oh, I hope you didn’t forget why I brought you here.”

My pulse kicked hard as she led me down the short hallway toward her bedroom. The second she pushed the door open, my heart started beating so hard I was pretty sure she could hear it.