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Well. Maybe didn't like it was an understatement.

"Spoken for," he repeated, but the way he murmured the words made them sound considerably less harmless than they had thirty seconds earlier. "By whom?"

"If Sissily knew that, I'm fairly certain she'd have started with that." I studied him. "You look personally offended, Blackman."

"I am."

The immediate answer nearly made me smile. "I'm sorry. Have I somehow violated an obscure pigeon protocol by allowing a mysterious stranger to claim my death on the supernatural internet?"

"No." River came toward me, and I became increasingly aware that there was no reason at all for him to stop as close as he did. There were empty chairs behind him. Several feet of perfectly usable floor. An entire laundromat in which to have this conversation, yet River chose the six inches directly in front of me.

"I'm offended," he continued, his voice dropping into that quiet register that had become considerably more problematic for my girly parts since the motel, "because anyone arrogant enough to announce to half the supernatural world that you're spoken for has clearly never tried dealing with you."

I tilted my head back to meet his eyes. "That almost sounded complimentary, Blackman. Stop, you'll make me blush." The way he was looking at me almost made me sweat. "No? Shame. I was going to write it down."

The corner of his mouth curled with humor, but his gaze didn't. It traveled slowly over my face and settled on my mouth. My pulse stumbled, because just like that I was back in the motel. His mouth on mine. The instant when surprise disappeared and I kissed him with enough enthusiasm to eliminate any future claim that it had been a mistake.

Apparently, my body had kept considerably better records of the incident than my common sense had. River knew it, too. The bastard.

"You're staring," I mumbled.

"So are you." His eyes came back to mine, darker now, and the faint satisfaction in them made heat creep up my neck. "You're the one bothered by it. You could step away."

There was no challenge in the words. That would have been easier, because I'm a stubborn mule and I'd have jumped at the opportunity to prove I could. River simply waited, but I stayed exactly where I was.

Fuck.

"You see the problem," he said.

My mouth had gone dry. "The problem is that you're enjoying this."

"Very much so."

The admission came with such effortless confidence that heat rushed straight into my cheeks. Then he stepped away, just like that, and the ordinary warmth of the laundromat rolled back into the space where he'd been standing. River's mouth curved into that infuriating smirk of his, and for one glorious second I wanted to wipe it off his face.

Then my chest tightened, because dear goddess, I'd missed it. The arrogance behind it, the wicked little spark in his eyes when he knew he was getting under my skin and enjoyed every second of it. For the first time in four days I wasn't looking at a male wearing River's face while some essential part of him stayed locked somewhere I couldn't reach.

He was still exhausted. The shadows under his eyes hadn't gone anywhere, and there was a carefulness in the way he held himself that hadn't been there before Tuesday.

But so was River.

My throat tightened before I could stop it, and that pissed me off almost as much as the smirk.

"Don't think whatever the hell that was gets you out of the other conversation."

The smirk vanished, and I wished I could pull the words back the second I saw his face close.

"There isn't another conversation." He turned toward the dryers.

And I was back to square one. Not anger, not even refusal, just that quiet retreat I'd been watching for four days. The one where River could be standing close enough to touch and still manage to be a hundred miles away.

"Bullshit."

His shoulders squared, but he kept his attention on the clothes turning lazily behind the glass as though they had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in Cleveland. I waited. He didn't turn around.

Screw that. I crossed the few feet between us. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" he asked the dryer, sounding exhausted.