Page 43

“You’re a handful, aren’t you?” I said.

Spike flashed a charming grin.

“In more ways than one, darling.”

Neil grumbled under his breath like a thunder cloud. He settled on the stool next to mine, elbows braced on the counter, physically blocking me from Spike’s line of sight with his body. I’d seen that possessive gesture on more than one occasion. I curved my hand over his bicep to soothe him out of habit, stroking my thumb along that damn tattoo of my bite bark. I couldn’t believe he still had it…

Then again, it was Neil. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He still acted like we were married, for Christ’s sake.

Neil’s irritation visibly deflated at my touch. He flicked a sideways glance in my direction.

I gulped at that look—dark pupils, raw desire, blatant lust. I snatched my hand back and grabbed my fork, digging into my breakfast.

My mother would have been furious to see me sitting down with these men for a meal, knowing full well that the tortured, mangled body in the morgue at the police station was because of him. Because of Neil.

But my mother wasn’t here. She’d been gone for several years by now. There were no more scathing remarks about what a mistake my marriage was. No more passive aggressive comments about using my common sense to pick a husband who was actually good for me, instead ofthat man. She wouldn’t even say Neil’s name after the divorce, acting as if the last twelve years of my marriage never happened and my ex-husband didn’t exist.

After last night, I had no desire to be anywhere else except seated here, beside Neil.

“So,” I ventured, poking at my scrambled. “What have you been up to for the past decade?”

He gestured around the room.

“This.”

The club. Of course. I knew that already.

“I never would have guessed,” I replied dryly. “Are you dating again? Did you remarry? I overheard you and Big G talking in the hospital. Plenty of young ladies flocking around you like bees to honey.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Neil’s mouth.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow. He exhaled with a laugh, rubbing his side.

“I’m not jealous,” I protested. “It’s an honest question.”

Neil shook his head.

“No, never bothered with anyone else. Too busy with the club. Didn’t think it was fair to rope someone into my life when I had other priorities. You?”

My heart squeezed with selfish, bittersweet relief. I’d always imagined that he would rebound with a woman half my age. I studied his profile, resisting the urge to comb my fingers through his hair, cropped shorter than before. He used to have the softest chestnut waves. When did he go so gray?

“Almost got engaged once actually,” I said.

Then I bailed and ran for the hills.But I kept that part to myself.

Neil stiffened beside me, his grip tightening on his coffee mug.

“Let me guess,” he replied. “You finally managed to find some rich prick of a doctor or lawyer. Your mother would be so proud.”

I poked him in the arm with my fork.

“Now who’s jealous?”

“There’s a very big difference between your jealousy and mine, baby,” Neil countered.

For the second time, I didn’t correct him when he called me that. The bass rumble in Neil's voice, calling mebaby, never failed to make me melt into a puddle, like ice on a hot stove.