Page 22 of Best Served Cold

Beep.

“Shit!” Wrenching the wheel of my truck, I checked my mirrors and swerved into the passing lane as a sedan blew through a stop sign and turned in front of me, nearly sideswiping me in the process.

Tires squealed as horns blared. The bed of my truck fishtailed as I fought my instincts to overcorrect and instead steered with the skid, barely managing to keep from crossing over into oncoming traffic as I regained control.

The car that had nearly hit me kept driving, leaning on their horn and speeding away like they hadn’t just almost killed us both.

Heart racing, I flipped my signal and turned into the first parking lot I saw.

“Jesus.” I shoved the gear into park and leaned back in my seat. “Holy shit.” Lifting one shaking hand, I raked it though my hair and gripped the strands tight, pulling hard enough the slice of pain made me gasp.

The pain cut through my building panic and the torrent of what-if scenarios that raced through my head stopped.

I was alive. I was okay.

A bright neon sign caught my attention. Annabelle’s.

I’d never been to this part of the city, and the restaurant whose lot I’d unknowingly pulled into looked expensive as hell, but it’d have a bar where I could get a drink and calm the fuck down.

Do you really need a drink right now?

Ignoring the annoying voice in my head, I put the truck in gear and parked in a nearby spot.

The restaurant was fancy, and I was horribly underdressed, but the hostess gave me a bright smile as I approached her podium.

“Hi, welcome to Annabelle’s. How many in your party?”

“Um, just me.”

Her smile didn’t dim at all. “Would you like to sit at the bar, or maybe a table?”

“The bar, please.”

“Right this way.”

I followed her to the far end of the restaurant where a long bar was tucked against the back wall.

Most of the stools on the right side of it were empty while the ones on the left were occupied by groups of patrons enjoying their drinks and plates of food.

My heart lurched as the lone figure sitting on the right caught my attention. I nearly tripped as I came to a stop and took in the familiar head bent over something. A notebook, maybe?

“River?” I asked before I could stop myself. The hostess glanced between us.

He lifted his head and spun around on his stool. His confused look melted into a wide grin. “Noah.”

It was weird to hear him say my name after so many weeks of him calling me Rath, but I didn’t hate it.

“Want to sit?” He waved at the seat next to him. His face fell. “Oh, never mind. You’re probably meeting someone. Sorry.” He started to turn around on his stool.

“I’m not,” I said quickly, glancing at the hostess.

She smiled and motioned to the seat.

River beamed as I slid onto it. “So this is random. You come here a lot?”

“No. First time. I didn’t even know it existed until that asshole almost ran me off the road.”

He tilted his head quizzically.

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