“I can’t help that he jumped to conclusions.”Or that I felt violent urges when I saw him with you.
“Big bad Dayton just can’t help himself, hmm?”
“You don’t seem too torn up that he ran off.”
“I like to keep the mystery alive. Can’t invite them in too early.”
You’re not gonna invite him in ever, if I have anything to say about it.
I finish off the margaritas with a splash of sparkling water on top and a lime wedge on the edge of the glass. I’ve been shamelessly watching her from the security cameras for the last four weeks. This is the first date she’s brought home. The artist painting the mural has kept his grubby fingers off of her, too, from what I can see.
She grabs the drink from my outstretched hand and takes a sip.
“Hmm, he knows his tequila, doesn’t he?”
“You sure you don’t want me to chase him down?”
“So you can run him over? No thanks.”
I level my gaze at her, wondering if she knows just exactly how obsessed with her I am. Her pale green eyes study me. The studio feels like it shrinks when she looks at me like that.
“I would never.”Do that unless he touched you.
“So, why are you here? I thought I’d finally gotten rid of you.”
“Not that lucky, Cupcake. I’m just checking in on my high-risk investment.”
She raises a brow. “And you’re sleeping here again, I presume?”
“With a warm invitation like that, how could I refuse?”
She rolls her eyes, sipping from the margarita again. “Mmm,this is really good.” She takes another drink, nearly finishing it off.
“You want another?”
To my surprise, she nods. “If you’re gonna be here, you might as well make yourself useful. I had a shitty—” She stops herself, considering her words carefully before continuing, “I had a shit day.”
“Hmm.” I start making another round of the margaritas, doubling them in size. “Well, I worked a long week, got on a packed plane with no legroom, and flew here, only to find my house invaded with a guy who looks like he’s never heard of shampoo.”
“How dare you make fun of my date?! He has great taste in alcohol, remember? That has to count for something.”
I nod, trying to hold back a smirk.
“And not all of us want to date flawless New York City runway models.”
“You sure bring that up a lot.”
She scoffs. “I do not. I’m just jealous of her hair.”
Her hair is the off-brand version of yours.
The fact that she can’t see that is beyond me.
I pour her another drink, this one bigger than the last.
She moves over to the bed and sits down on the edge. “And her style and maybe how her life is so put together.”
“You get all that from online stalking?”
