Page 48

He rolls his eyes. “Focus.”

“Okay, okay! I see what you’re saying.” And I do. He makes sense. But . . . “And if anybody is out there looking for me and they happen to find me, I guess it’s for the best I’ll have two trained killers by my side.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Upstairs, the shower turns on. “Listen to me.” With my hands on my hips, I stare down at him just as hard as I can and call up every bit of frustration and confusion and everything else I’ve been wrestling with ever since this whole adventure began. “I’m a pretty anxious person. Especially in crowds. It’s hard for me to even leave the house sometimes, much less go out and be around people I don’t know. Now, if I—with all my anxiety—can even consider going out to dinner tonight, I think you can too. Let’s go,” I conclude, pointing toward the stairs. “Go change, wear what you’re wearing now—I don’t care. But we are going out for dinner tonight, and I am going to eat lasagna, dammit. And maybe some garlic bread.”

“Isn’t this nice?” I’m not just saying that either. It is nice. The restaurant isn’t fancy, but it’s clean and cozy, with a roaring fire at one end of the dining room and an open kitchen on the other side. The comforting sounds of pots and pans clanging around on the stovetops make me feel right at home, more relaxed than I’ve been in a long time. It’s so weird that I feel like this in an unfamiliar place with a bunch of unknown people.

“Nobody would ever give it a Michelin star,” Adrian muses, swirling red wine in his glass. “But it’s nice.”

“I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” Theo sits there like somebody forgot to take the hanger out of his shirt, all stiff and frozen, but he sounds almost friendly, and I will take that as a win.

“It’s nice to see you guys getting along,” I offer before snagging a second thick piece of garlic bread. “It’s refreshing.”

“You’ve already said that,” Adrian informs me with a sour look. “At least three times on the ride here.”

“And twice since our drinks arrived,” Theo adds.

“Sue me for trying to be encouraging.” Chewing on garlic bread is easier than trying to get through to the two of them. Tastier too. “I hope my breath doesn’t stink too bad after this.”

“Maybe you need to lay off.” Yet when Adrian reaches for the basket, he’s greeted by the sight of my butter knife hovering near his hand.

“Try it. I might not be a master at hand-to-hand, but you don’t get between me and my garlic bread unscathed.” A few stabby motions drive my point home.

He raises his hands, settling back just in time for our entrées to arrive. The slab of lasagna on my plate is around the size of a loaf of bread and may be the best thing I’ve seen in forever.

For a while, with the three of us busy eating, someone passing by could easily mistake us for a happy threesome. “Not that kind of threesome,” I mutter around a mouthful of cheese.

“W-what?” Theo sputters.

My face heats up until I’m sure it’s as red as my tomato sauce. “Never mind. I’m . . . thinking of ideas for my next book.” This is a tried-and-true excuse for most of what randomly falls out of my mouth.

We’re still debating on whether to order dessert—which is something I don’t need to be talked into, since I saw the dessert tray and know they have tiramisu—when nature calls. “Be right back. Just going to the ladies’ room.” Adrian looks around the space until he locates the short hallway where the restroom sign sits, then nods like it’s up to him whether I get to pee. He’s a real Prince Charming.

For the sake of his blood pressure, I make it quick, ready to ask if they’re getting dessert when I get back to the table. Stepping out, I immediately locate our table, where the two of them are engaged in what looks like an argument. Terrific. And here I was, hoping tonight would help them turn a corner. Why I care, I don’t know. I just hate to see them bickering and snarking at each other all the time.

“Hello there.”

There go my powers of observation, just as strong as ever. I was so busy staring across the room at my table that I didn’t notice a tall, broad-shouldered man in a cowboy hat who now practically stands on top of me. “You’re a little overwhelming,” I announce before wishing I could bite my tongue off and get it over with already.

He chuckles warmly. “I promise, ma’am, I won’t bite. Unless that’s what you’re into.”

How original. “Excuse me, I need to get back to my table.”

And what does he do? Is he a gentleman who steps back and lets me walk past him? Of course not. Instead, one arm shoots out so he can place his palm on the wall and block my way. “You don’t have to be rude. I came over here from the bar, hoping I could get to know you.”

“Congratulations.” Because let’s face it, I have been through too much lately to tiptoe around some cowboy’s feelings. “I’m not here alone, and I need to get back to my table. I’m trying to be polite.”

“You’re doing a piss-poor job of it, between you and me.” When he leans in, the whiskey on his breath leaves me choking back a gag. “Come on, now. Let me buy you a drink. Maybe you’ll loosen up a little.”

“I don’t need to loosen up, but thank you.” How I’m even speaking to this creep, I have no idea, since my heart is trying to explode out of my chest and I can barely breathe. My eyes dart around wildly until I catch sight of Adrian clocking the situation. Something vicious and deadly crosses his face as he rises from his chair.

“You’ve done it, buddy. Kiss your butt goodbye,” I tell my would-be Romeo, giving him a gentle nudge before trying to slide past him.

Which is when he makes a big mistake.

He grabs my right bicep, his grip tight, fingers digging into my muscle.