Page 58 of Forty

They must be co-workers. She’s about two thousand fathoms out of that guy’s league.

And she’s Forty’s perfect match.

They banged. The way she’s leaning in to talk to him. How he squared his shoulders? They definitely banged. Crap. Now I’m not hungry anymore.

I guess she’s the ideal woman. Organized, loyal, with good common sense.

I hate her.

But that’s unfair—and besides, maybe she’s his realtor or something—so I make myself go forward, hand stuck out, friendly grin plastered on my face.

“Hi!”

The man with her startles.

She blinks at me. She has big blue eyes and killer lashes. She kind of cocks her head and shoots Forty an expectant look.

“Amelia, this is Neveah.”

She blinks a few more times, and then she grasps my hand. She has a firm grip. “Nice to meet you. I haven’t met any of Forty’s friends yet.”

Oh, good. So maybe they’ve only banged once. “We’re not friends.”

“You’re not?” Blink. Blink.

“Definitely more like enemies at this point.” I stretch my lips until it feels like I’m at the dentist. “I’m Nevaeh.” I grab the guy’s hand, and he jumps and mumblesMike.

“Mike! I’ve met a Mike before.” I laugh, and he laughs, high-pitched and nervous, like a hostage. His gaze is careening from Forty’s cut to his biceps to my hair to Amelia. She’s got eyes for no one but me, though.

“I’ve never met a Nevaeh,” she purrs. “Such a unique name.”

“It’s heaven backwards.”

Blink.

“Heaven spelled backwards.” Mike helps me out. “N-E-V-A-E-H. Heaven.” Mike is inordinately pleased with himself. He relaxes a little and sips from his cup.

“I’m sorry I haven’t returned your call yet.” Amelia’s done with me and my name, and she’s aiming those freakishly blue, blinky eyes up at Forty. “The system went down. Again.” She cuts a look at Mike. He sips so hard on the straw he hits bottom.

“Refill!” He holds up his cup and lopes off to the lunch counter.

“No worries.” Forty shifts slightly on his feet. Oh, he’s sweating this. Good.

“I had a really great time the other night. That steak was the best.” Amelia’s not looking at me at all, but I’m picking up what she’s laying down. She’s staking her claim.

Forty grunts.

“It’s so strange. Seeing you in your vest.” She trills a giggle and strokes a finger down his cut. Oh, gross.

Forty’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t know what to say. The situation has short-circuited his brain.

“On the phone. You mentioned doing something this weekend? Maybe you could finally take me for a ride on your motorcycle.”

Come on, Forty. Tell her you can’t. You’re with me. Take her aside. Let her down easy. Or grab my hand. Rest your arm across my shoulder. Come on.

There’s a painfully long pause, the kind I usually leap into with reckless abandon, but I’m biting my bottom lip so hard my nose itches from the pain.

“I, uh. That’s not gonna work out.”

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