Page 78 of Splintered Hearts

“Basically.”

“I guess that makes me basically a surgeon.”

“Okay, enough,” I hiss.

“Hey, is that the book you were reading the other day?” Ben picks it up with a smile.

“Ah, no, different book. Jamie just finished it.”

Ben’s face pinches before looking at me. “I thought you said you don’t lend out your books.” He smiles, but there’s an edge to it that makes my chest feel tight.

“Ah, I don’t. He . . . stole it.”

“Smooth,” Jamie whispers. “You guys better get going. I’d really like to start the second book. Thanks again for the loan.” Jamie grins.

“Right, uh, we should go.” I lean down by Jamie’s ear. “I am going to kill you.”

“Have fun.” Jamie beams at me.

“Eat a dick.”

It’s been nearly twenty minutes since we sat down. He’d chosen a small Italian restaurant downtown which was pretty close to the house, and more than once I’d thought about excusing myself to the bathroom and running home.

“You look amazing. Sorry, I just can’t stop looking at you.”

“Thank you. You’re sweet.” I was hoping the awkward tension would disappear some, but if anything it’s only gotten worse since we sat down. Conversation is always easy for me, so why am I so nervous? “So, you want to be an officer?”

“Yeah, I love it.”

“When did you decide you wanted to do that?”

“I’ve always loved guns.” Um... okay then. Grabbing my glass of wine, I take a sip, praying the proof is over a hundred.

“I’m sure that being a hero sounds nice too.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He... guesses...” I’ve always been fascinated with guns and wanted a job where I could use them. I love going shooting at the range. Can’t wait to do it for real.

Um . . .

“That sounds . . . nice.” Holy fuckballs.

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Have you ever been to a range?”

“Oh, no.” Wiggling my fingers, I laugh. “I may chip my nail polish.” Ben doesn’t. “It was a joke.”

“Oh.” Laughing awkwardly, Ben takes a drink too. “So, I take it you don’t own any guns?”

“Oh, no. Well, one. A tiny pink bejeweled squirt gun I fill with lube in emergencies. It’s a talking piece.” It’s a gag gift Mark bought me for my twenty-first birthday. In general, I do not like guns—like, at all. Having a parent who hunted exotic animals for sport turned me off the entire culture. “But each to their own.”

“Well, maybe I can take you out sometime.”

No fucking thank yew. “Maybe.”

Taking a large sip of wine, I urge the alcohol to do it’s damn job. Anything. I need something to take this edge off. “You look really gorgeous tonight. Sorry, I just can’t stop staring.”

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