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“So. I hear you hung out at the hospital with my boy.”
“He’s not your boy. And that’s none of your business.”
He chuckled. “Damon must have played you. He’s always done that. Has a long trail of scorned women in his wake.”
Three. Six. Nine.Three more twirls of the ring.
“You’re better off. He was never going to amount to anything then, and now, blind as a bat, it’s even worse. Must have gotten what he needed from you and figured it was time to move on. That’s how he works.”
I smoothed out my shirt and glanced around, the space suddenly feelingverysmall.
“You’re from New York, right? Mom was a—”
“Lizzie!” the barista called as she set our drinks on the counter.
I stepped around the loser, my mind whirling at the mention of my mom. He researched me?Shit. My shaking hands nearly dropped my drink as I fixed it into a tray to carry them all.
Scott stepped in from the side, his body brushing against mine. A whiff of his thick, spicy cologne tickled the back of my throat. “You’d be treated like a queen with me. None of this no-calling shit.”
As if. He came off as more of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am type. “Get off me, thug.”
I heard a sharp intake of air as I fixed the last cup of coffee in my tray.
“Careful, little girl.” Scott’s breath floated across my cheek and ignited a slithery chill along my skin.
The prick took another step in to me.
“If you don’t back off in three seconds you’re going to be singing aCso high the glass will shatter.” I looked up, right into dead eyes. “You get me, asshole?”
He narrowed his eyes, but stepped back, a half smile curving the left side of his mouth. “I see it now.”
I stared at him, refusing to back down, all the while hoping my heart stayed in my chest instead of flying out of my mouth.
“Why he likes you,” he said, backing up. “See you ’round.”
Thatsounded like a threat.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Damon
“Fivedaysofphysicalterrorists! I’m so over them.”
“You say that every time. But at least you’re going again. The whole two-day depression thing—so not cool,” Drey said.
“Yeah, well, I’m entitled.” I gripped the door handle as the car swayed. Drey must be taking the corner at thirty miles an hour. “Jeez man, slow down!”
“I almost called Jeff to come kick your ass again. We so need to hire him at The Rage. We’re down a bouncer.”
“He might give Hunter a run for his money.”
“Doubt that. Not with ‘The Hammer’ he’s got going on there.” A car horn blared and Drey yelled, “It’s called a gas pedal, slowpoke!”
“I can’t believe he was a UFC fighter and got that nickname. It’s so lame.”
“But true. He’ll flatten anyone if he can get a solid right hook in. Oh, and I talked to Jeff while you were doing your cooldown today. He says you’re picking things up nicely.”
“Yeah. He’s a good guy.” The extra night classes at his in-home gym were going well, too.
