Page 51

“All day. All night.” He grinned. “Multiple times at night.”

Sexual tension fizzled between us. It was funny how, after months of a revolving door of men, I hadn’t been interested in anyone but Lake since meeting him. Did he know I’d given all that up? It felt like something he should know.

I opened my mouth to tell him, but he was already standing, an apologetic expression on his face. “Beer goes straight through me.”

My phone rang when he was halfway to the restroom. I stared at the screen, already knowing what I’d hear.

Breathing. Slow and steady. In and out.

The only phone call where they’d hung up had been the first. Since then, they’d stayed on the line. I always had to be the one to end it. “Listen,” I said, keeping my voice low, “heavy-breathing phone calls are so last century.”

Nothing.

Maybe I could provoke them into saying something. Anything would be better than nothing. I wanted to hear what he sounded like. I assumed it was a man. It didn’t seem like something a woman would do for kicks. I suspected it was someone I’d taken home. Plenty of opportunity to grab my number while I was in the shower.

“I’m sorry if you think I wronged you in some way,” I said. “But I never promised anything beyond a good fuck. And I delivered that, right?”

The breathing didn’t change.

I’d already ruled out Geoffrey Ryhill since prison calls included a prerecorded message before connecting you. I wasn’t completely naïve. I knew prisoners used illicit mobile phones, but I’d already blocked four numbers, and this person kept finding new ones. I doubted that was within Geoffrey’s scope.

“If you’ve got something to say, why not just say it?”

Nothing.

“Do you really think I’m going to sit here all night listening to you breathe when I’ve got better things to do?”

I gave them five more seconds on the off chance of that provoking a response before hanging up and blocking the number. Then I worked on composing myself before Lake returned, so he wouldn’t ask what was wrong.

Turned out he was more interested in the two men who’d arrived while he was gone, his jaw tightening when he saw them. “How long has he been here?”

“He?”

“Carl.”

“That’s Carl?” I didn’t need to ask which one. One was clearly half the other’s age. He was attractive, as long as you liked your men slightly rough and ready, with overgrown stubble and crumpled clothes. And apparently, Lake did. His companion was clean-shaven and dressed more smartly, chin resting on his hand as he stared across the table at Carl.

“Yeah,” Lake said, jaw tight.

“Is this where he leaves and you chase after him?”

That earned a faint smile. “No. I learned my lesson the hard way. He’s too fast.”

“You should get a big net like they have in the cartoons.”

“Or drop a piano on his head.”

Lake might have joined in with the joke, but his inability to look away from the two men said something different. Something twisted in my gut that felt a little too close to jealousy. No one wanted their date thinking about someone else. And Carl was recent. Really recent.

“What do you think is going on there?” Lake asked. “Is it genuine, or has Carl found another easy mark? If he’s planning to do to him what he did to me, I should warn him, right?”

The bitterness in his voice loosened the knot in my chest. It didn’t sound like there were any residual feelings of tenderness left behind.

Lake’s gaze swung back my way. “Can you do your thing?”

“My thing?”

He blushed. “You know.”