Page 169 of The Last Good Man

He is either aware I’m at the bar. Or he knowsexactlywhere he’s going.

The hostess makes a beeline for him, and the second she realizes it’s him, she gives him a soft nod and gestures toward the table where the other men and women sit.

Oh.He’s a regular at this place, and everybody seems to knowhim.

Lucky me.

But something doesn’t feel right.

Walking in, going straight to the table, and not even glancing at the bar is beyond suspicious.

Every fiber of my being tells me he is here for me.

I don’t believe in coincidences, yet nothing in his behavior suggests that.

He walks andtalks normallyand seems to be the boss off the people at the table. All older than him, they show him reverence.

The women fawn over him, and one of them makes room for him next to her––I notice with dismay.

“Do you want me to take your water to the table?” Emile asks, and I shift a blank gaze to him.

I completely forgot about Emile.

Oh, Emile.

That Emile.

Shit.

Emile wasn’t supposed to be here with me. Or maybe the other way around.

Still… This is not me having sex with Emile.

Mm–hmm.

And arguably, the brunette sticking her chest out in front of Jax London does not want to have sex with him either.

Sure.

“Yes, please,” I say sweetly, giving him something to do. “I need to use the bathroom again. I have a small bladder,” I joke, but he doesn’t get my joke.

Instead, he picks up my water and walks to the table, where Joanna gives him a harsh look, which he seems oblivious to.

Things are more complicated than I thought. And spending some time in the restroom won’t simplify them, but at least I get a moment alone.

I dash to the back of the bar, almost toppling a server who is exiting the kitchen with a huge tray of food off his feet.

I apologize profusely and bolt to the restroom.

The door closes over the rest of the world, and my shoulders meet the wooden frame as I run a hand over my hair.

“What the fuck?” I say quietly, sweating again.

I’m always wet, damp, or covered in sweat when he’s around.

I blot my brow with tissue paper before pushing off the door and checking my face in the mirror.

I look all right, considering.

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