Page 69 of Shattered Hearts
I want to fuck that smile right off her face.
She gives her head a little shake. “Not into guys with serial killer vibes who play with explosives either.”
I lace my fingers on the back of my neck. Fuck. If it’s not Rory or Darren, that leaves Cian, and that’s the worst news of all. Cian looks like a damn sculpture at the Met. I might as well be Quasimodo compared tohim.
“I have to say I’m disappointed.” I exhale. “Cian’s the obvious choice, but I didn’t think you’d pick him.”
Riley’s smile grows even more. She’s rubbing this in.
“It’s not Cian.”
“What?”
Riley leans closer. “I never said it was one of your friends. Besides, I’m not into pretty boys.”
Relief buzzes against my skin. At least the clown my sweet little wife used to like isn’t one of my best friends.
I still want to find out who it is and remove him from this planet.
Our waiter reappears with a deck of playing cards, and Riley takes the opportunity to distract us both, which is for the best. She teaches me a card game she learned from some of the children housing with their mothers at the shelter where she works.
Even though she kicks my ass, I actually laugh and enjoy myself.
It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed something that didn’t involve torture or eating a sweet confection.
I’m having so much fun that the hours fly by, and the next time I sneak a glance at Riley, her face is glowing. Beyond the windows, the city’s reawakening, washing us and the streets outside in a soft haze.
I can’t believe we’ve been here all night, talking and laughing like two regular people without a care in the world.
The more time I spend with Riley, the more time I want to spend with her. And that’s a dangerous thought.
I set the cards down. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” Riley’s tucking the cards back into the box when another smile spreads across her face. “Never knew you could laugh.”
“I never knew you were so competitive.” I slide out of the booth, and she follows. “But I should’ve guessed.”
“Why do you say that?”
I smirk, pulling a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. “You never like to give anyone else the last word.”
“Wow. Now I know what you really think of me.”
We’re standing too close together, and my defenses are low.
Somehow, within the last twenty-four hours, I’ve started thinking of Riley as mine. I need to get my head on straight before something bad happens. Again.
I step away from her. “I’ll go get the check.”
She nods. “I’ll wait by the door.”
While I’m at the counter adding a tip and signing the receipt, the door jingles open behind me. I hear Riley talking to the only other patrons this diner has seen since one this morning, and when I turn around, I spot them.
An older couple.
Every thought in my head fades to white.
Elaine and Fitzwilliam Vandercluft.