Page 115 of Coach
And stared.
And tried to close my mouth, though nothing seemed to work.
Shane pointed with his fork again. “Need more coffee?”
Finally, my brain and mouth found common ground. I grabbed the syrup bottle and held it out for him.
“No, to coffee. Eggs are fine. Here’s the syrup. Yes to dating.”
He looked up, his fork frozen in midair.
He stared into my eyes, unblinking and silent.
I waited.
Then he nodded once, as though that was settled, and resumed shoveling pancake into his mouth.
Chapter 36
Mateo
By noon, I was seated at our usual corner booth in the back of The Rusty Spoon, a hole-in-the-wall diner with mismatched chairs and the best damn chicken salad in the metro area.
Mike and Sisi flanked me on either side like twin interrogators.
Correction: like nosey, ruthless, impossible-to-distract interrogators.
“So.” The second my butt hit vinyl, Sisi leaned in, her eyes glittering with unholy glee. “You look well fucked.”
I choked on my water. “Jesus, Sisi—”
Mike grinned. “She’s not wrong. You’re glowing, positively radiant . . . and that’s hard to do with your olive complexion. Well done.”
“I’m not—” I rubbed my face. “I’m just . . . tired.”
“I bet you are.” Sisi waggled her brows. “Tired because you spent the night getting railed by CaptainAmerica and his super-dick. Does it wear a tiny cape, too? I always wondered.”
“Stop!” I hissed, my face already flaming. “It wasn’t like that.”
Mike leaned on his elbow. “So it was gentle and romantic?”
Sisi snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ve seen the man. That dude doesnotdo gentle.”
“I am not talking about the sex,” I declared, crossing my arms like that might protect me.
They exchanged a glance, a very dangerous, conspiratorial look.
“Oh, honey,” Sisi said, reaching across and patting my arm like a mother soothing a teething child. “You think you have a choice. That’s just precious.”
“Come on, spill it.” Mike grinned. “Positions? How many times? Did he throw you around? Use some of his tools on you? Do you have bruises?”
“I—what?! Tools? No. Jesus.”
“Jesus was there?” Sisi cocked her head. “That’s hard to believe. It doesn’t sound like his scene.”
My head fell back on the cushioned seat, and I tried to remember a time when I wasn’t blushing all the way to my toes.
Thank God, the waitress arrived. For a brief moment, the chatter at our table shifted to waffles and chicken and salad and . ..
