Page 47 of The Single Dad

While I flip through the available albums, a voice behind me makes me freeze.

“Riley?”

I half-glance over my shoulder. It’s Adam, an ex of mine from about a year ago. We only dated for a few months, and I haven’t seen him since I broke things off.

“Hey,” he says, suddenly jubilant—even though I didn’t respond, the fact that I turned around at all was confirmation enough for him. “It is you. Damn, you look good!”

“Adam,” I respond, trying to sound as neutral as possible without being rude.

“Happy to see me?” He leans against the jukebox, forcing himself into my line of sight. He looks almost exactly the same as he did a year ago—patchy stubble, shaggy haircut.

I give him a slight hum in response that’s neither a “yes” nor a “no.” Truthfully, there are only a few people in this world who I would be less happy to run into. But it might come across as a little impolite if I told him that.

When we dated, he was an absolute jerk. At every possible turn, he took me for granted. I don’t want to give him the time of day, but I’m almost certain that, if I brush him off, he’s going to make a scene.

“What have you been up to?” he says. Somehow, he manages to make even this simple sentence sound suggestive.

Nervously, I glance in the direction of our table, then back at the jukebox. “Not much,” I say shortly. With any luck, if I keep my replies short, Adam will take the hint and leave me alone.

“Oh, come on,” he says, leaning forward—too close for comfort. Instinctively, I take an uncomfortable step back. “There must have been something going on. It’s been ages!” He eyes me up and down. “You look even better than before. Have you lost weight?”

I’m silent, trying to figure out how to respond. Before I can think of something—some perfect sentence that will defuse this entire situation, banish Adam from my vicinity without some ugly reaction—I feel a weight drape across my shoulders.

I look up, and there’s Cole. His arm is across my shoulders, his touch gentle, but protectively firm.

“Hey, babe,” he says casually. “Who’s this?” As light as his voice is, there’s an implicit threat buried in the words, and his eyes are blazing as he stares Adam down.

Adam’s cocky grin fades instantly. “Who are you?”

“I believe I asked first.”

I swallow, startled, but gesture to Adam nonetheless, trying to play along. “Um, Cole, this is Adam—an ex of mine. Adam, this is Cole.”

Adam’s eyes flick up and down again—this time, not out of lust, but in analysis. I try to imagine things from his perspective.

The guy who just came up and put an arm around me is tall, well-built, and model handsome. He has a commanding voice, and even on an outing to a casual restaurant, he’s perfectly groomed, his clothes tailored and clearly expensive.

Not only do I appear to have a boyfriend—my boyfriend is confident, rich, and in the peak of physical condition.

Adam backs off a bit. He leans away, clears his throat, and mutters, “Hey.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Cole says, in a tone that suggests the opposite.

“Crazy, running into you all the way out here,” I say, forcing a false laugh. “Small world, I guess.”

Tight-lipped, his jaw clenched, Adam nods. “Yeah. Well, I’d better get going.” He makes a tiny movement, a strange jerk of the head, that might have been a failed attempt to look Cole in the eye.

Then he slinks off, back toward the front room of the restaurant.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, I heave a sigh. Cole retracts his arm from my shoulders.

“Thank you,” I say, relieved. “So much.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies. “It was pretty obvious you wanted the conversation to end.”

“Yeah, I definitely did.”

“I figured I’d help you out.” He gestures back toward the table. “Come on. I’ll get the check, and then we should probably head out.”

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