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Kellen nods and checks something off on his clipboard.
“So, you two are tight friends?” I don’t mistake the curiosity in his voice.
“Yeah, you could say that.” I keep to myself the fact we share a child. As much as I don’t want her to go on a date with Mr. McSmiley, I won’t tell him things without her permission.
“Could you give me some insight? Where does she like to eat? I’m not too familiar with the area yet, but want to make a good impression.”
This would be a lot easier if hewasa douche and I could kick his ass.
Fuck.
Fine. This better earn me sainthood.
“She loves Mexican food. Don’t come between her and her favorite cheese and chorizo dip.” I smile, remembering the last time we took Theo to dinner, and they ran out. She was disappointed and tried to hide it, so I drove to the nearest restaurant the next day and picked up a container for her.
“Can’t go wrong with Mexican.” He squints against the bright sun.
“Nope. Try out Tito’s. It’s near the Java Drip in town. Blazing neon green sign, you can’t miss it.”
“Thanks man, appreciate it.”
“Oh, and she also loves those little drinks with the swords stabbed through the fruit. Sangria, I think? Makes her giggle every time and she’ll put them in her purse and deny swiping them.”
He tilts his head in confusion.
“She saves them for parties or to give to her nephews when they’re in town. She thinks it’s hilarious to rile them up and watch them sword fight. Also snags the extra napkins. Can’t have too many in your car for emergencies.” Why am I telling him all this? Fuck if I know, but I want her to have a good time, even if it kills me on the inside. She deserves it.
“She loves the bookstore in town as well. Spends way too much of her paycheck on romance novels, but she’s a hopeless romantic at heart. They sell these little chocolate desserts up by the register and she gets one every time. I suggest the kind with sprinkles. She says it reminds her of the birthday cakes her dad used to make her as a kid.”
Done with giving him insight into the woman I love, I abruptly end the conversation. “Have fun. She’s one of the good ones.”
I give him a two-finger salute and head back to my truck when I hear him subtly say, “Must suck to be in the friend zone with a woman like that.” I freeze, ticking my jaw, but refuse to turn around.
The low chuckle follows me back to the truck, and it takes all my restraint to keep my fists clenched to my sides and not to the side of his head.
My gut says he’s bad news and not at all good for Scarlett. I stand by what I said to Preston. I don’t trust him.
