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Payton has had a crush on Maddoc ever since she joined the Reapers. It’s never going to happen, and one of these days she’s going to figure that shit out—although the way her hand is resting on his arm tells me that today is not that day.
Maddoc’s expression has a hard edge to it that looks a bit like jealousy too, but it’s not directed toward Riley. It’s directed at me.
“Going somewhere?” he asks, giving away his interest since he normally wouldn’t bother interrupting a meeting with two of our crew just to poke at me about my plans.
“Yup,” I tell him, draping an arm around Riley’s shoulders as we continue on our way through the living room. “Catch you guys later.”
I can feel Payton’s and Maddoc’s gazes burning holes into our backs, and I bite back a smirk as they finally resume speaking again in low voices.
I’m pretty well convinced that Riley isn’t a West Point spy or a honey pot sent to infiltrate us, but Maddoc isn’t quite there yet. And given Payton’s clear dislike of our new houseguest, I wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to convince Madd to kick Riley out.
I trust my brother not to be swayed by whatever shit Payton might say, though. He’s perfectly aware of how much Payton would like to take the place vacated by his ex, Sienna. We all are. Just like we all—at least, everyone but Payton—also know that Maddoc will never make that kind of mistake again.
Payton, though? She’s her own special issue. Valuable because she’s skilled at what she does and a hundred percent dedicated to the gang, but her obsession with Maddoc is gonna be a problem one of these days.
But notmyproblem.
Not today.
Riley doesn’t say a word as I usher her into one of the vehicles in the garage—the Lincoln, since that’s the first set of keys I grabbed—and head toward downtown. She watches the route closely as I drive, probably trying to figure out where we’re going and how to brace herself for whatever she’ll find there.
Watching her brain work overtime on the issue is entertaining as fuck, but her stress is rising under her poised exterior and that’s not really my style, so I finally decide enough already with the whole silent-and-watchful routine.
“Relax,” I tell her, reaching over to squeeze her thigh and letting my hand stay there after she glances over at me. “This isn’t a test. I’m just taking you to breakfast.”
She looks surprised, then narrows her eyes like she doesn’t believe me. “Breakfast?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s almost noon.”
I grin and pull into the parking lot of my favorite diner, a little hole in the wall that has food to fucking die for. “Yeah, well, first meal of the day is always breakfast. Doesn’t matter what time it hits.”
“You haven’t eaten yet?” she asks, her skeptical expression making me laugh. Always wary. Always looking for the catch.
Sometimes—not often, but sometimes—there just isn’t one.
“Yeah, I have. Butyouhaven’t,” I remind her, hopping out of the car and resting a hand at the small of her back as we head inside.
She looks around at the cracked red leather seats in the booths and the linoleum floors so scuffed you can barely tell what color the checkered squares started out as, a skeptical expression crossing her face.
“Trust me,” I say, leading her back to my favorite booth. The one with a view of all the exits. “I’ll order you something good.”
“You don’t know what I like,” she points out, arching an eyebrow as a bit of a spark comes back to her eyes.
It’s a good look on her.
“Don’t I?” I ask with a wink, then rattle off half a dozen items when the waitress comes up before she can hand us our menus. No way is Riley the type of girl who’s going to settle for half a grapefruit or some bullshit like that.
“Coffee with all of that, doll?” the waitress asks in a bored pack-a-day voice as she scribbles the order down on her pad.
“Yeah. Two, please. And some cream for one of them.”
“You got it.” The waitress nods, tucks her pen behind her ear, and heads back behind the counter.
Riley watches her go, then huffs out a breath. “That’s a fuck-ton of food.”
I grin. “You’re welcome.”
“Okay, but what are we really doing here, Dante?”
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
