Page 17 of Blurred Lines

“What if I asked you the same question? Would you tell me?”

A shrug. “Not much to tell. I grew up in San Pedro, fucked around in high school, joined the Marines, left the Marines, then started Planet Health.” He focused on me over the top of his burrito. “Got divorced along the way.”

Cristian had been married? Wow. Who could put up with him for long enough to make it down the aisle?

“How long were you married?”

“Six years.”

His ex-wife deserved a medal.

“Kids?”

He hesitated for a long moment, and I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally, I got another shrug.

“I thought so once, but it turned out I was wrong.”

Frantically, I put the pieces together in my head. His wife had cheated? She’d told him a child was his, and he’d later found out that she lied? Hot damn, no medals for her. What a bitch.

“I’m so sorry.”

Yet another shrug. He used the gesture as an evasion, a way to avoid fully answering my questions.

“It’s in the past.”

So he said, but before he looked away, I caught a glimpse of pain in his eyes. And I found that I wanted to ease the hurt. The only way I could think to do that was to offer him what he wanted—a tiny piece of myself.

“I grew up near Amarillo, then we moved to LA when my dad got a job here. That lasted two years, and his company transferred him to Alaska. Practically the North Pole.” I shuddered. “Do you know how cold it gets there? I’d just turned eighteen, so I found a room to rent and stayed by the ocean.”

“Snowsuits and Ski-Doos aren’t your thing?”

“I’m not a fan of frostbite, and besides, LA was home by then. I waitressed a lot, wrote some books, dated a bunch of assholes, and then met a decent guy a few months ago. If I could just shake not-so-super Mario, my life would finally be on track.”

“He’s going to make an appearance sooner or later. Much as I hate to suggest it, you should consider staying with your boyfriend overnight.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“Much as you hate to suggest it?”

The waitress came back, and this time, she whispered in Cristian’s ear. He rose, sliding my phone across the table as he did so.

“Enjoy the rest of your lunch.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

Can you guess what he did? He shrugged. What else?

“Stop freaking shrugging!”

I barely heard his soft chuckle over the conversation in the juice bar as he walked away.

Cristian Garza was a jackass. A mercurial, confusing jackass. I wasn’t sure whether I liked him or not, but the baser part of me, the cavewoman lurking beneath the wannabe California girl, knew what I tried so hard to deny. If Theo hadn’t been in the picture, I’d have let Cristian throw me onto the massage table and do whatever the hell he wanted.

As he disappeared out the door, I unlocked my phone and checked the messages. He’d replied to Mario. Cristian had sent a picture of the two of us, him standing in front and looking fierce. Freaking murderous. But it was his words that made my chest seize.

If you want her, you’ll have to go through me first, motherfucker.

CHAPTER 7

---