Page 75 of Fairy Tale Lies
Miguel leaned against the glass entrance door and sighed with good humor. “Don’t let it go to your head. Susan likes tall men. It’s the only reason she agreed to marry me.”
“You are a pretty picture, and getting to wear heels is a bonus. Anyway.” Susan focused back on Jacob. “I’m not basing my opinion solely off height and good looks. I mean, you do have a slightly cruel aspect about you. Maybe it’s the eyes. However, you don’t have the self-important posture like Blake, which gives you high points in my book.”
“Thanks…I think,” Jacob replied dryly. He smirked. Eyeing Greta. “More fans of Blake, huh?”
“Yeah. We went on a couple of double dates. I wouldn’t call them fun times.”
Susan snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.”
Miguel scoffed. “The guy’s an asshole.” He shot an apologetic glance at Greta. “No offense.”
“Wearegoing to make excellent friends.” Jacob smiled. “You know the saying; my enemy’s enemy is my friend…and all that.”
“Well, new friend, we’re heading to Long Island for a late-night snack, or an early breakfast, depending on what you want. Join us?” Miguel asked.
The mention of food made Jacob’s stomach sit up and beg. The same must have been true for Greta because her belly let out a fierce growl. “I’d say my girlfriend’s stomach answered for us.” He glanced at her. Besides her fitful nap on the way over, they’d been awake almost twenty-four hours. “Or do you need to sleep?”
“No, food and alcohol are needed more.”
Susan put an arm around Greta, and they headed toward the parking lot. “Long night?” Susan asked.
“Met her mother,” Jacob called, as he and Miguel followed the women, who were a couple of paces ahead.
Mentioning her mother brought back a flicker of worry, and it tried to deflate his good mood. He stomped his doubts into submission.
Turning to Miguel, he said, “It was an experience.”
Miguel patted Jacob on the back. “Yeah, meeting the parents sucks.”
Jacob gave a sardonic laugh. “Man, you have no idea.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Wow. You win. Yours’s even worse than the first-time meeting Susan’s parents. And that was a freaking disaster.” Miguel exhaled, leaning back into the booth and tapping his fork against his now-empty plate.
“It was bad,” Susan scoffed. “Sure, Jacob was in handcuffs, but I was certain my dad was going to end the night in them. For killing you.”
“This I have to hear.” Jacob’s laughter carried across the almost-deserted diner.
Their waiter, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, glanced up from his novel and gave them a distracted smile before returning to his book. He didn’t seem to mind the slow pace or the raucous laughter coming from their table. Besides their booth, there were two men at the front counter and a couple sitting on the other side of the eatery.
“Agreed. Let’s hear the story.” Greta took a sip of her Mimosa.
Her hand resting innocently on her lap, then skated to his thigh and grasped his knee. She trailed her fingers along the inside of his leg, moving up.
He cut her a side-eyed glance. She smiled back saucily.
Shit. How many of those Mimosas has she had?
His blood was racing south, making it difficult to focus on anything but the hot trail of her fingers. He curled his hand around hers, stopping her wandering ways and tried to focus on Miguel’s story.
“Let’s skip it. I don’t want Greta thinking less of me,” he said.
“Oh, please. She doesn’t think anything of you, so how could she think less?” Susan joked.
Both women laughed and clinked their glasses with gusto.
Jacob eyed the scattering of empty flutes. Yup, he was getting to see a tipsy Greta. This side of her was all Cheshire cat smiles and wandering hands.
