Page 50 of Hart Breaker

That’s when I see Riley’s back as she stands alone by the fountain.

Adrenaline takes over and I’m running to her.

Steps away, and she turns, facing me. The calm demeanor that was initially donning her stunning features morphs into anger.

Not sure what the fuck I’m thinking when I crouch down, charge at her, grab her up, and throw her over my shoulder, but I quickly realize it may not have been the best way to approach her.

Her hands are in my hair when she yells, “Ew, you’re all nasty.”

This makes me fucking laugh as I run toward the car.

“Put me down, you asshat!”

“Can’t let you do it, Brooksie,” I say as I run her like a football to the waiting car.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” she yells as I tuck her into the back, slide in behind her, and try to remain calm when I tell the woman in the driver’s seat, “Get us out of here, please.”

As she shifts into gear, Riley attempts to open the door.

“Oh no, you don’t.” I snake an arm around her middle and hold her back. “I’m risking my career to save you from a life of misery. You will give me a few fucking minutes of your time.”

“You’re out of your damn mind.”

“Yeah, well, that shit happens when not one but two people you respect lie to you for two fucking years. So, the way I see it, you owe me a few damn minutes.”

“I will give you ten, and then you and I are done having this discussion.” She glances toward the driver, who is looking in the rearview mirror at Riley and obviously waiting for consent, which Riley gives with an eye roll and a slight nod.

“I’ll take you two somewhere to chat, and then I’ll take you back to wherever you need me to take you.”

Riley nods to her. “Thank you.”

My phone spouts off, and I grab it off the seat where I’d left it when I tore ass out of the car.

Unknown: I have Riley’s phone. Let her know I have Mom and the girls convinced she needs more time and sent them to the hotel bar. I’ll be waiting here for her.

Me: Thank you. But you need to be with your group. There are freaks out there.

Unknown: You don’t say …

Me: Give me shit another time. I’ll message when I return her. But If I can’t convince her not to marry the shitbag, it’s on you, Lo.

She doesn’t reply.

I drop my phone on the seat and clear my throat to draw Riley’s attention from the streets to me.

“No disrespect to the chick driving, but we’re not having any discussion that could show up online.”

“She’s cool. Plus, cab drivers have to take some kind of Hippocratic oath, like therapists and doctors.”

“Cab drivers?” Riley looks at me like I’m insane. “This isn’t a cab.”

“Not all cabs are yellow. There are Ubers and Lyfts everywhere now. She was dropping off at UNLV when I spotted the sticker on the back window.”

“Where’s the meter then? The visor paperwork, the?—”

“Yeah,” the woman cuts her off, “so I was dropping off my daughter, and, well, you seemed desperate.”

“Shit.” I scrub a hand over my face.

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