Page 68 of Crossing Lines

“Have you heard from her lately?” Laurent looked out his window.

“I have. She’s doing great,” Ryan said, sneaking a glance at me and offering a soft grin.

“Good. She’s such a lovely lady.” He sighed. “Hopefully, you’ll get to meet her someday.”

“I’m sure I will. I’m being scouted by the Maple Leafs. So, I expect to be spending some time up in Toronto this summer.” There, take that. The corner of my mouth tugged up. Why was I being so petty? I needed to stop. But it’s not like I’d ever had a boyfriend, let alone met a boyfriend’s ex. This was uncharted territory for me. How was I supposed to act?

“That’s great, Jonah.” Laurent came forward in his seat and patted Ryan’s shoulder. “It would be funny if he ended up in Toronto with you staying here in Arizona.”

Ryan twisted his lips and glanced at me. “Yes, well, we’ll see how things go.” He grabbed my hand from my thigh and held it over the center console. “We have time to figure things out.”

With a nod, Laurent said, “How long have you two been, uh…?” He waved his hands between us.

“I met Ryan around New Year’s.” I glanced back at Laurent. What was that supposed to mean? I should have talked more to Ryan. If I’d had my wits about me, I would have wanted to know what he’d told Laurent about us. Like, did Laurent know we were in love?

As we passed the short buildings of Old Town with their quaint covered walkways, I chewed my fingernail. There was a definite competition going on between me and Laurent. But I supposed it was to be expected if he cared about Ryan.

Ryan pulled into an angled parking spot on the street in front of a building resembling a true Spanish Mission, all in white with curvilinear gables and parapets. “We’re here.”

We all climbed out of the car, and I stretched. God, I could gofor a margarita, but Ryan would never allow it with my damn concussion.

Snatching my hand, Ryan led me toward the heavily carved wooden doors of the place and Laurent followed. Ryan opened the door and waved me and Laurent inside. “I have a reservation under my name.”

Laurent strolled to a hostess stand and a woman in black led us through the darkly lit main room, large crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling between hand-hewn beams. The walls were beige-gold and painted to look antiqued between hanging mirrors and sconces.

I followed them through tables of four with white linen tablecloths and fake candles centering them. This place was fancy.

The hostess stopped at a table in the corner and set menus down.

Dropping into a leather chair next to Ryan, I picked up my menu. “Nice place.”

“Yes, very.” Laurent, sitting on the other side of Ryan, smirked and glanced over his menu. “The food looks delicious.” He glanced at Ryan. “Look at all the margarita flavors. Think I’ll have to try the prickly pear.”

“That does sound good.” With a grin at me, Ryan squeezed my hand, resting next to my plate. “You ever try a prickly pear margarita?”

“Can’t say that I have. I’ve seen it on menus before, though.” I threw a smirk at Laurent. “I usually go for Cadillac margaritas.” I’d love to say something unmanly about fluffy drinks, but I’d keep my mouth shut for now. I’d just met the guy.

“Okay, prickly pear it is.” Shutting his menu, Laurent beamed at Ryan. “Why don’t you try another flavor so we can taste different ones?”

Heat flickered across my chest. That idea bordered on being date-like. If someone was Ryan’s date, it was me. “Maybe I could have a?—”

“No, you shouldn’t be drinking.” Ryan brushed his hand up my forearm.

“I was going to say taste. I wasn’t proposing I order myself a margarita.” I huffed. Him watching out for me in private was one thing, but in front of his ex? I wasn’t sure I liked it. It sort of felt like I was out with my two dads. Gross.

“Oh yeah, sure.” Ryan sipped from his water glass.

A waiter stopped by our table and took the margarita orders, my iced tea order, and Laurent put in an order for their special guacamole, made right at the table. How touristy of him.

“So, what sort of Mexican food do they have up there in Toronto?” I drank some water. I wasn’t sure what else to talk about.

“Not as good as here. Aren’t you from the Midwest? It’s probably about the same as what you get there.” Laurent studied me.

“Yeah, I’m from Minnesota. Mexican food is definitely better here. It’s more authentic.” As the waiter set down our drinks, I picked up my tea and sipped it from a straw. This conversation was a little on the boring side.

“Have you been to Mexico?” Laurent sipped his margarita, puckered his lips, then widened his eyes. “Damn, that is good.” He placed it by Ryan. “Here, try some.”

“Uh, yeah, I went to Rocky Point for spring break freshman year.” I twisted my lips, running my index finger over the rim of my glass. The only reason I’d gone was because the drinking age down there was eighteen and I could get into the clubs legally. Okay, and it was party-central.

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