Page 71 of The Wrong Play

“Fun’s right,” he said, grinning. “Davis and Thatcher? Those guys are beasts. You see that last play?”

My stomach twisted, Jace’s name dropping like a bomb. “Yeah,” I muttered, forcing a smile. “They’re…something.”Beastdidn’t cover it—Jace was wild, unhinged; mine in ways I couldn’t admit. I took a bigger sip of water, suddenly wishing it was wine, and I tried to focus on Danny’s next story—something about his sister’s cooking fails—but my skin prickled restlessly, Jace haunting me like a freaking ghost.

The door swung open, the chime slicing through the restaurant’s hum. I happened to glance over, only to drop my fork with a loudclank.

“Riley?” Danny asked, but I couldn’t look at him.

I was too busy staring at Jace, standing there at the hostess stand, his hair mussed from the wind, his brown eyes locked on me, glinting with mischief…and something feral.

How was he here right now?

Danny was trying to talk to me, but I was stumbling over my words, watching as the hostess led Jace into the spot right behind Danny. He slid into the booth, sitting so he was facing me, his back to the wall. His smirk was a weapon, sharp and knowing, and his eyes bore into mine over Danny’s shoulder. My heart kicked into overdrive, my palms sweating as I picked my fork back up and gripped it tight.

Danny was back to talking about his mom again. “So, she forgot the oven was on, and the whole kitchen?—”

“Sounds like a real tragedy,” Jace cut in, his voice loud and dripping with sarcasm, his gaze never leaving me. “I’m riveted, man. Keep going.”

Danny faltered, turning slightly, confusion creasing his brow. “Uh?—”

“Just ignore him,” I snapped, confusing Danny even more.

Jace grinned, predatory and knowing. His arms stretched along the back of his booth, all lazy confidence.

Danny shifted, eyeing Jace over his shoulder. “Oh, you’re Jace Thatcher!” he said excitedly…because, of course, he recognized him instantly. “We were just talking about you!”

Jace’s gaze glimmered with something that should have sent Danny running—but Danny obviously wasn’t good at reading signs.

I’d blame hismamafor that.

“Do you know each other?” Danny asked, his eyes shifting between the two of us.

Jace snagged a breadstick from a passing waiter’s tray. “I do know Riley. Intimately, in fact. Right, buttercup?”

My face burned, and Danny’s face finally started to show a touch of unease.

“So, uh,” Danny tried, turning back to me. “Anyway, my mama?—”

“We get it. She’s a fantastic cook and the greatest lady you’ve ever met,” Jace interrupted again, biting into the breadstick, chewing loudly…and obnoxiously. “But let’s be real here, Casanova, your date couldn’t care less about the fact that you dream about your mama when you’re yanking your dick.”

“Jace, stop,” I said, my voice low and as venomous as I could make it. But he just winked, leaning forward.

“Stop what?” he asked, his voice teasing, eyes glinting. “Pointing out the obvious? That he’s completely fucking up this date? That you’re completely bored. Oh…should I tell him about what you’re really thinking about right now?”

“Don’t you dare,” I hissed.

Danny’s shoulders had stiffened, and he set his fork down, glancing at me. “I feel like I’m missing something. Um…”

“No, you’re not missing anything,” I said quickly, shoving my plate aside since my appetite was nowhere to be found. “He’s just an asshole who doesn’t know boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” Jace laughed, low and rough, leaning forward. I was pretty sure Danny could feel Jace’s anger on the back of his neck. “Babycakes, I crossed those in the elevator last week—remember? You didn’t mind then.”

Danny’s face went pink, then pale, his hands fumbling with his napkin. “I—I don’t?—”

“Feeling overwhelmed yet? Like you’ve made a terrible…possibly a dangerous mistake?” Jace asked, smirking over Danny’s shoulder, his eyes still locked on mine. “Feeling like she belongs to someone else?”

“Jace, I swear—” I started, but he cut me off, his voice dropping, all silk and menace.

“Swear what, Riley-girl? That you’re not mine? Go on, tell him. Tell him you didn’t cream over my abs right before you walked out to meet him.”

---