It had never once occurred to her to think of a woman the way one thinks of a man—not consciously, not with the serious part of her mind—until she saw that look in Flaca’s eyes as she handed over the skillfully wrapped package of raw meat. That linger. That message of hunger, a declaration of wanting, all in a look. She hadn’t known that women were capable of it. She expected it from men, saw it in them every time she walked down a city street, but—from a woman? It caught her off-balance.
