Page 59 of Irresistibly Risky

Me: Saline as in saltwater?

Freddy: No. Saline as in Celine. I don’t think she knew how to spell it when she picked it as her name.

I wipe my hand across my lips to hold in my smile.

Me: I might need to fake an emergency. I can’t do this. It’s awful and we’re only at champagne.

Freddy: Champagne?

Me: Don’t ask.

Freddy: Give it thirty minutes and if you still need me, I’m here to help.

Me: Fine. Thirty. Thank you.

I set my phone face down on the table as the waiter starts going over the specials.

“Um. I’m on keto and paleo. Is there anything I can eat here?”

I tune her out as the waiter goes over a few items and then gives us a minute to decide. She starts spouting off about how she wants to be a model and eventually move to New York, and blah, blah, blah—I’m not listening. Instead, I survey the restaurant, seeing just how closely we’re being watched, when my eyes snag on a woman across the room.

My heart instantly takes off into a crazy rhythm as I stare at her talking and laughing and eating and drinking and looking so fucking stunning that my chest hurts all with someone who isn’t me. My jaw clenches so tight, I’m shocked I’m not cracking teeth.

“Ashy, are you listening?”

“No. And my name isn’t Ashy.”

She shrugs and keeps talking, and I keep staring at my woman on a date with another man. I pick up my phone and text her, watching as she goes to check it, her face scrunching up as if she doesn’t understand my message. I watch as she looks and looks, and then bingo.

Her eyes widen, and her lips part.

For a few moments, we continue to stare at each other. The douche she’s with says something to her, and I watch her lips move, but I can’t tell what she’s saying. I sign nice friend to her since I’ve learned a few things from watching those sign language videos with Mason.

She smirks and quirks an eyebrow as if to say you too.

I’m ready to fly across the restaurant and pull her away from him, take her home, and officially make her mine. Instead, I hold myself steady and sign bathroom.

She shakes her head at me, and then the waiter steps in front of me, cutting off my view of her. Saltwater orders something, and I tell the waiter to pick whatever his favorite dish is, and I’ll go with that. He starts to leave, and my head ducks and weaves around him, anxious to see Wynter again. To demand she go to the bathroom and meet me.

Only now she’s not looking at me. In fact—I chuckle lightly—she just covertly flipped me off by wiping her middle finger along the side of her face in my direction. God, that woman drives me crazy. And makes me hard. And makes me want to curl up under the covers with her and Mason and never come up for air.

The more time I spend with her, the stronger my feelings for her get.

She continues to eat and be on her date, and I continue to watch her like some deranged stalker because as much as I’d like to, I can’t go over there and make a scene. I have no right. She’s technically not mine, and she’s told me that more times than I can count at this point.

That doesn’t mean I don’t want to break her date’s nose so I can watch him bleed.

I can’t stand this. She’s with someone else. Giving him her full attention. He gets to stare into her eyes from across the table. He gets to listen to her laugh and know what it feels like when she smiles just for him.

Jealousy churns like poison ivy in my stomach, growing tentacles that make my skin itchy. She’s on a date, and technically so am I, but this is not how it’s supposed to be. It’s supposed to be her. It’s supposed to be us. Goddammit, doesn’t she know that? Haven’t I told her and shown her a hundred different ways?

Our food arrives, and Saline is still talking because she’s not eating much of her… I don’t even know what she got. Mechanically, I cut into whatever my dish is and take a bite while Wynter and her dead date have dessert, and he pays the bill. He stands and offers her his hand, and she accepts it, letting him drop his fucking hand to her motherfucking lower back.

My body tenses, and I angle around, watching them walk toward the exit. Look at me, Wynter. Look at me! She doesn’t, and I’m going out of my mind. Just as she reaches the exit, she drops something black, and I watch as it cascades to the floor. In a heartbeat I’m on my feet.

“Asher?”

My head snaps back over to the rabbit. “I’m sorry. An emergency just came up. I have to go.”

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