He is sitting on the stool next to what is supposed to be mine. “I put the ketchup on the side because there was no way I was going to cover the protein with that shit,” he says, not looking up or turning around to face me.
I slide into the seat next to him, not looking his direction as I pick up the fork, digging into the cheesy scrambled eggs and dipping them in the ketchup.
He grunts, making a sound like I’ve physically wounded him.
I ignore him, adding more ketchup to my first bite to piss him off. “These look great,” I marvel, trying to sound grateful because I am, even if he thinks my food choices are subpar.
His gaze moves from my fork, which is covered mostly in ketchup compared to eggs, back to my eyes. “You cannot eat that shit and like it.”
“I can.” I smile, lifting the fork to my lips. “And I love it,” I tell him.
He stares at me, not blinking, face tight as I place the fork in my mouth.
I close my lips around the tines, wishing I hadn’t gone so overboard with the damn ketchup. But I couldn’t help myself since he was being so damn judgy. “Mmm,” I moan, closing my eyes and pretending they are the best thing I’ve ever eaten.
“Fuckin’ unbelievable,” he mutters softly. “Beautiful chick. Grossest taste.”
My eyes fly open. “My taste isn’t gross,” I snap after I swallow down the ketchup with a dash of eggs.
“Wouldn’t know good food if it hit you in that ass, babe.”
“I have exquisite taste,” I argue, turning up my nose and going back to stabbing at my eggs and slathering them in more ketchup.
“Not in food, and based on what I heard, not in men either.”
My fork is almost to my lips when he delivers that last punch. My stomach gurgles, but not from hunger. “What did you hear?”
His blue eyes are back on me again, studying my face, forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“What did you hear?” I repeat, not even blinking and barely breathing. “Who did you hear it from?”
He drops his fork on his plate and turns his body sideways, his knees touching my thigh. “I don’t know what in the hell you’re so nutty about, babe, but I was there last night when that piece of trash you call a boyfriend had words for you. I heard all the shitty things he said to you and the way he talked to you like you were nothing.” He pauses, tilts his head, and stares me straight in the eyes with no expression. “Shitty taste.”
“Oh.” I’m a little relieved and also totally embarrassed. “I thought you heard from somewhere else.”
He looks at me funny, like I have two heads. “Where would I hear? I’m pretty damn sure we have no one in common.”
This tells me two important things. He has no idea who I am, and he doesn’t watch television or care about celebrities. Maybe he’s lying, but he seems like a pretty straight shooter.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I was only asking.”
My phone vibrates between our plates, Jamison’s name flashing across the screen. I stare at it, my stomach turning like the eggs and ketchup are doing the hula dance inside.
“You gonna answer that?” he asks when I sit there too long, letting it ring three times.
“I don’t want to,” I mumble, going back to my breakfast.
“Your life,” he quips as the phone continues to move across the stone countertop.
We sit in silence, eating, him grunting almost every time I lift the ketchup-covered eggs to my mouth, until my phone starts ringing again.
“You should answer,” he says to me. “Tell him to fuck off.”
“I can’t. He’s just sooo…”
“You love him?”
I scrunch my face. “No.”
“You want him back?”
I shake my head. “He’s a dick.”
Nick nods, reaches for my phone, and taps the screen.
My eyes widen and I reach for the phone, but Nick pushes my hand away with his elbow.
“She’s busy,” Nick rumbles in that sexy deep voice of his before he pauses, his eyes moving to me. “Don’t fuckin’ worry about who I am. I know who you are, and she’s done with your sorry ass. She’s over you. Finished. You fucked up, and there’s no going back.”
I smile, watching him make faces as Jamison screams on the other end.
“Again, buddy, I don’t give a fuck. And I’m pretty sure Jo doesn’t give a fuck either.”
I giggle and immediately cover my mouth to hide the sound. I seriously don’t give a fuck about Jamison. Not after what he did.
“We’ll be there in an hour, and you can say this shit to my face.”
My laughter dies and my breathing stops. We?
“Best if you’re not there when we come for her stuff,” Nick warns, but he’s smiling, enjoying himself.
Nick looks so much more handsome with a smile. His teeth are white and straight. He’s dreamy in a rustic, blue-collar kind of way.
“If you’re there, you won’t talk to her, won’t look at her, won’t even breathe in her direction, or you’re going to deal with me. Clear out, man. Admit you fucked up. Accept defeat. We’re coming for her shit, and she’s gone.” Nick taps the screen, drops the phone, and goes back to his breakfast like none of that happened.
“Um,” I mumble, my eyes moving from him to my phone. “We’re going to the hotel?”
“Yeah, babe. Eat those shitty ketchup eggs, and I’ll help you get your things.”
“Why?” I ask, my mouth hanging open.
He runs his hand across his mouth, studying me for a second. “Why not?”
“You don’t know me.”
“I may not know you, but I’m not letting you go back there to get your shit alone. The man is a raving lunatic. If I’m there, he won’t fuck with you. You get your shit, and you’re done with him. We leave, and you live your life.”
“I live my life?”
He nods. “I’d hope so. Eat,” he commands, nudging my arm. “We leave in ten.”
“Nick.” I stare at him. “Do you know who I am?”
“Don’t care, babe.”
“I can’t go there. I can’t. People will be watching.”
He doesn’t even blink. “Want me to handle it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Eat, and we’ll talk on the way. You can explain whatever this code you’re talking in is all about.”
“Okay,” I murmur and go back to my eggs, praying this all doesn’t blow up in my face.
5
Nick
Jo has her feet up on the dashboard of the old pickup truck I spent three months restoring. Her head’s bobbing with the music, and she’s dancing in the seat, looking chill as fuck for the first time since I met her.
“You going to tell me the big secret?” I ask when we get close enough to the fancy-ass hotel she and Jamison were staying at.
“I don’t really want to kill my vibe,” she mutters. “And the information will most certainly do that.”
“Are you going in with me, then?”