Page 11 of Bad Blood

But today isn’t normal.

It’s anything but.

Liam knows he’s testing my patience and doesn’t seem to care. I glare at him from across the table, wanting to pretend their conversation is endearing, but I need her to get lost so I can get him to talk. I fold my menu and offer it to Crissy across the table. “We’ll take the norm. Can you add a side of hash browns?”

Crissy takes the extended menu with a tight-lipped smile, irritated with me for butting in. “Mixing things up?”

“I like to keep things interesting.” I cross my arms over the table and lean closer to her. Our eyes meet, and she swallows, accepting the look I give her as her official dismissal.

“Extra crispy?”

The side of my mouth quirks up in a derisive smile. “You know me so well.”

“I’ll be back before you can miss me.” She turns her attention to Liam and winks.

I doubt it.

Liam’s face could crack from how hard he’s smiling as she walks away. “Why do you chase them off like that?”

“Who?” My sad attempt at keeping my frustration under wraps is about to boil over. If he doesn’t talk soon, I’m gonna lose my shit.

“Waitresses, bartenders, clerks at the grocery store—women, Dax, women.” He enunciates the last word before dropping his gaze to his book. He pulls the phone free from between the pages and shakes his head, brushing off our conversation. “You being a model has perks you don’t use to your advantage. It’s a shame.”

I kick him under the table at his underhanded comment. His annoyance with the way I use women as a means to escape has been a topic of conversation on more than one occasion. I don’t care if he doesn’t approve of my need to lose myself inside someone. My pointless sex with easy women is none of his business.

“Ouch! What the hell?” Liam massages his shin, and the family behind him continues to pretend they’re not eavesdropping.

I pin him with a look of annoyance, but he acts like he doesn’t see. Or maybe he doesn’t care.

He leans over the table and whispers, “You could get anything you want from women, and you act oblivious to their existence.”

“Shut. Up.”

His head jerks back like I’ve smacked him, and he holds up both hands. “I’m just saying, the least you could do is get me anything I want.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking this”—I pull in a deep breath and fail to keep the irritation from my voice—“but what do you want?”

He waggles his brows, jutting his chin toward the soda fountain where Crissy stands, filling drinks. “Her number.”

I lean back, draping my arm over the booth. “Then ask for it.” I appreciate his ploy at distraction, but I’m not easily swayed. “Wanna know what I want?” I steeple my fingers and settle my elbows back on the tabletop.

Liam groans and returns to scrolling on his phone, ignoring my question.

“Didn’t you make plans to help her study?” I wipe a hand down my face.

“Yeah,” he says, all of his attention on his phone, “but it doesn’t mean I’ll get her number.”

“Why not?” I lean across the table, plucking the phone from his hands, and take a quick peek at the screen.

It’s open to the news, a live cam from the hospital near the south end of Central Park. There are news vans scattered around and a crowd of reporters waiting with their mics out. I slide it back to him as Crissy brings an OJ and black coffee. She sets them on the table, smiles at Liam without a word, and disappears to drop off a bill at another table.

“Bock, bock, bock, bock. Chicken.” I glance at Liam and laugh as his eyes grow three times their normal size.

“Shut up. She’s gonna hear you.”

“That’s sorta the point.” I grab my coffee and sprinkle in half a packet of sugar and two creams.

“Why do you embarrass me like that?” Liam grabs the phone and leans forward as he stuffs it in his back pocket.

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