Page 18 of The Rich One

“Whatever, River. You do you. Come on, I’ll drive you back to Everest’s.” Now I’m the one who’s angry. How dare he take this holier than thou attitude like he’s the one who baptized baby Jesus, and now he can pass judgement on who I do or don’t fuck? How fucking dare he?

In my head, I mimic hiswhatever,and in the privacy of my own thoughts I also flip him off with both middle fingers.

“No. Just take me back to the ferry. I’ve had enough of peace and love for one day.” I walk away and leave him there, knowing he’ll follow in no time.

With every step, I truly believe there’s no going back. He’s hurt. It’s new for him.

I’ve been hurt for years so I know what I’m talking about.

It took a while, but here we are.

Over and done.

CHAPTERSEVEN

After Kai dropped me off at the ferry last week, I spiraled a little. For the first time since I’ve been doing this, my personal life clashed with Rose. Luckily, the shit didn’t hit the fan too much, and I know Kai will get over this—eventually. He still hasn’t responded to the text I sent him a few days ago, but I’m not worrying about that. This is Kai. Once he’s had time to lick his imaginary wounds, I’m sure we’ll fuck and make up.

“Oh, shit!” I’m startled into actually paying attention to what I’m doing in the grocery store, bumping into something solid. Something solid that smells divine—a little like a forest after a rainfall.

“Woah, are you okay?” The deep voice pulls my gaze upward, meeting a pair of crystal blue eyes staring at me with worry.

It’s him. Candy Aisle Guy.

“Oh, yeah. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention an—”

“Don’t worry about it, let me help you with that.”

I hadn’t even realized I dropped anything. Fuck, this guy sends my brain up dick’s creek without a condom.

Before I reply, he’s kneeling down and picking up the whipped cream cans that fell out of my basket. There’s just something about a man on his knees that does things to me. So much so, I need to suppress a shiver running down my spine straight to my clit.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” My face is flushing as he places the cans and a box of tampons I hadn’t noticed back in my basket.

“No problem. You were in your own little world. You sure you’re okay?” The way he looks at me is a mix of concern and curiosity, which is unusual. I’m not used to men looking at me with anything other than lust, or more recently, disappointment.

“I’m fine, thank you, and again, I’m so sorry.”

It’s hard, but I finally force myself to look away from his captivating blues as I start to walk toward the counter. No big deal, I have everything I need anyway.

“Wait up!” Nowhelooks uncomfortable. Shit, did I hurt him? Is he about to ask for some kind of compensation? “I’m er… about to grab a coffee if you wanna join me…”

Well, that’s a plot twist, and completely unexpected. Fireflies erupt in my belly at the thought of spending actual time with Candy Aisle Guy. I should get his real name at some point. But do I want that? Is that the smart move? I have enough going on in my life without finding out my secret crush is a big old disappointment, just like the rest of them. I have my own story about his life made up in my head, and in it… he’s married. Which is why he’s my safe, guilty pleasure; nothing could ever happen between us. He’s just pretty to look at. Though, in my defense, the married part of my story for him is obvious from the wedding ring on his finger.

“Too soon? I mean, I can let you think about it and ask again next time?” He’s looking at me with amusement now as I have an internal debate over whether or not I should have a coffee with a hot guy.Pull yourself together, River.I’m sure he wouldn’t be asking if he was still married, would he?

“Erm…” I nod subtly down to his ring finger. “What would your wife think about that?” Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe this conversation.

A shadow briefly passes through his eyes, bringing with it a kind of sadness, which dampens the mood. I feel bad about asking, but I can’t go out with a guy knowing he’s married. I may be an escort, but in my real life, I’m not that girl.

He clears his throat before speaking, his eyes shifting right then left before pinning me with a deep blue stare that briefly paralyzes me. “She died. So, er, no.” If I thought it was awkward before, then right now is downright unbearable. Like an idiot, I search the ground for the biggest hole to whisk me away from this conversation.

“I’m sorry… for… you know, your loss?” Ground, swallow me now.

“Yeah, thanks.”

And then there was silence. Like, complete and utter nothingness as we stare at each other, trying to figure out what to say next. I mean, how do you follow up withmy condolences?

Shifting my feet, I take a deep breath and sayfuck itinside my head.

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