“I agree.” He nods but doesn’t offer more.

“Why that quote, though? I mean, what drove you to put that specific quote in permanent ink on your body?”

His gaze moves down to his plate, and his lips flatten, as if he’s thinking. “Because sometimes serving justice to the evil is paying the good for good. Sometimes evil touches the good, and sometimes you have to become a little evil yourself to right it.”

My eyes narrow slightly as I absorb his meaning. I open my mouth to question him again when the screen door creaks open and slams.

“Demi! Where are you ya dirty whor . . .” Lexi freezes in the doorway to my kitchen, her mouth open.

Rolling my eyes, I stand. “What are you doing here?”

Righting herself and smoothing her hair down, she clears her throat. “I was just stopping by to say hi. I didn’t mean to interrupt this . . .” she motions with her hand, “whatever.”

Dinner?” I offer. “You didn’t mean to interrupt dinner?”

Ignoring me, she slides by me and takes a seat at the other end of the table. “Well, hello, Connor.” She bats her eyes at him. “How are you?”

Connor straightens in his seat a little, my sister’s lustful gaze making him feel uncomfortable. “I’m good.”

“Good,” Lexi answers.

“Do you want a plate?” I huff.

“No, no,” she sighs. “I was only stopping by for a moment. I wanted to borrow your red dress.”

“You still have the black one you borrowed last month,” I point out.

“No offense, Demi, but it’s not like you’re wearing them anywhere.”

I glare at her, but she does have a point. “Go and get it,” I groan.

She winks at Connor before rushing upstairs to scour my closet. “I’m sorry, Connor. I know she can be a bit . . . intense.”

“No worries. I kind of enjoy the back and forth between you two.”

“I’m sure we’re very entertaining.”

Lexi flies back into the kitchen and grabs my hand. “Walk me out Demi. Bye, Connor. It was good seeing you again!”

“Bye,” Connor yells as we push through the screen door.

“What?” I snatch my hand from hers.

When she turns on me, her eyes are narrowed. “What was going on in there?”

“We’re having dinner, Lexi.”

“And he’s shirtless . . .”

“He got sauce on his shirt.” I shake my head dismissively. “Is this why you dragged me out here?”

“Things looked . . . cozy,” she notes giving me a wicked smile.

“It’s just a friendly dinner.”

“Riggghhttt . . .”

“Okay.” I mumble and kiss her chastely on the cheek. I know Connor is waiting to finish dinner, and I have no inclination to stand out here all night and argue with her. “Have fun tonight.”

“You too big sister,” she laughs as I stomp back up the stairs.

After we finish eating, we set about clearing the table and the counters. Connor begins washing the dishes as I wipe down the sauce that splattered on stove.

“I made a huge mess, didn’t I?” he snorts as I toss the sponge on the back of the sink. I can’t stop myself from letting my eyes graze over his exposed chest and abs. I want so badly to get closer and inspect each tattoo, trace them with my fingers. But if Connor notices my intrigue with his body and body art, he doesn’t let on, which I’m grateful for.

“Things just got a little out of hand,” I laugh. Yanking a dishtowel out of the drawer next to me, I join him at the sink and begin drying what he’s washed. The jukebox is clicking as the record changes and after a few moments, Hey, Baby by Bruce Channel begins to play.

Connor raises his head as he listens for a moment. “Dirty Dancing?”

I can’t help laughing. “Yeah, it’s in Dirty Dancing. I love that movie.”

“Patrick Swayze was boss,” Connor notes.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” I sigh. “All I ever wanted was to be Baby.”

We continue doing the dishes, and before I know it we’re swaying side to side as we stand next to each other. It’s a moment before either of us realizes we’re doing it. When we do, we both bust out laughing, but Connor surprises me. He grabs my hand with his soapy one and pulls me to him. Warm water drips down my arm, from where our hands are joined, tickling my skin, but I don’t pull away. My back arches as instinct tells me to move closer to him, but Connor holds me steady, preventing it. There’s space between our bodies as we move, but we’re both smiling. I can’t remember the last time I danced. Feels like it’s been a million years. As we move, my gaze follows the thick vein that runs up his arm and the one that runs from his neck to the back part of his jaw. Connor sings the words and twirls me a few times before he lets me go.

Still smiling, he turns back to the dishes. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

I like this playful side of him. He looks so dangerous and rough on the outside, but he’s quite funny and easy going. “That was fun. You’re a good dancer,” I note, as I take the dish he’s just washed and dry it. “I can’t remember the last time I even danced.”

“Well, there weren’t many dance offs where I’ve been for the last eight years,” he jokes. “Maybe we need to get out one night, hmm?”

“Maybe. Lexi knows all of the cool places to go. Maybe I’ll make her our escort.”

He smirks. “Let me know. I’ll see if I can pencil you in,” he jests.

Connor joined me for dinner two more times the same week. The first night we grilled burgers, and I taught him how to use his cell phone. On the second night, he helped me rearrange my living room furniture. But other nights he took off on his Harley. I never asked him where he went, but I was curious. If I had asked, I’m sure he would have told me, but I know it was none of my business.

We decide to go into town on Sunday to visit his grandmother, Grams, at her nursing home. Meryl Elouise Stevens is eighty-three-years-old and the life of the party even in her motorized wheelchair. The nursing home has called me a few times over the last few years to discuss her ‘flamboyant behavior.’ Meryl apparently had a gentlemen friend visiting her in her room late at night. They were caught a few times, but the last straw was when the guy had a heart attack.

On top of her.

She woke the whole floor up yelling for help because she couldn’t get out from under him.

Luckily he survived, but his family moved him to another facility, concerned for his well-being in Grams presence. I decided not to share this tidbit of information with Connor, figuring it might be a little much for him to digest.

Blake worshiped her, and as I watch Connor practically run up to her as she pushes herself up out of her wheelchair, I can see Connor holds her in the same esteem. Watching this giant of a man bend down and hug his practically hobbit-sized grandmother like she’s made of porcelain makes my heart squeeze.

“My darling boy,” she coos as he embraces her gently, her frail, wrinkled arms wrapped around his neck as best she can. “I’m so happy you’re home, boy,” she croaks with emotion, as she pats his back before they pull away from one another.

“It’s so good to see you, Grams,” he beams. The genuine smile on his face is amazing, and Gram’s eyes go teary. He holds her steady as she slowly sits in her chair again, but she doesn’t let go of his hand, which forces Connor to stand a little hunched over, but he doesn’t complain.

“Demi, love. Where’s my hug?” It sounded like a question, but it wasn’t. In Grams language that translates as: Get your ass over here and hug me.

“Hi, Grams. You’re looking beautiful today.” I lean down and close my eyes as she wraps her one free arm around me, loving the warmth in her hug. Her other hand still grips Connor’s tightly. My grandparents passed before I was born and my mother, while overbearing and meddling, was never very affectionate. But Meryl’s love more than made up for it.