Page 15

“Sure he is.” She turns the lock and I trail behind her toward the elevator, loving the way her ass looks in the skintight jeans she’s rocking. “And Michael B. Jordan proposed to me today.”

“That poor, poor bastard.”

She smacks at my stomach. “I hope Morris steals your socks and hides them where you’ll never find them.”

“And I hope Michael B. Jordan did propose—it’d be nice for someone to finally take you off my hands.”

“That implies you have some sort of hold on me, and I can assure you that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Couldn’t it though?” I smirk as we wait for the elevator. “You seem pretty obsessed with me.”

“You wish.”

The elevator arrives and the doors open to show another building resident tucked inside, standing at the back corner.

I don’t remember the woman’s name—something with a T—but she smiles at us warmly as we step into the car and stand opposite her.

The ride is quiet as we make our way down ten floors.

When the car hits the lobby, she grins at us brightly as she steps out of the elevator. “I always knew you two would get together eventually.”

“What the fuck…” I whisper once she’s out of earshot.

“For once, I agree with you,” River says. She wrinkles her nose as we make our way off the elevator. “Do people, like, think we’re…dating?” She shivers, pushing through the building’s main doors. “Ew.”

I prickle at her reaction.

She hates me, I get it, but to imply that dating me would be gross grates on me for some reason.

“Ouch.”

“Don’t act like that hurt your feelings. You know us dating would be awful.”

“Eh.”

“I’m sorry, are you implying us dating wouldn’t be a disaster?”

“It could be good. Especially for your reputation.”

She chortles. “Please. If anything, it would be quite the opposite.”

“What was it you said to me before?” I scratch my chin. “Ah, that’s right—whatever you need to tell yourself to help you sleep in the room across from me at night.”

She lifts her eyes skyward.

“Careful,” I tell her. “You keep rolling your eyes like that and they’ll get stuck that way.”

She does it again, with extra flair this time.

I chuckle, grabbing hold of the door to The Gravy Train and pulling it open for her. She doesn’t move away as my fingers brush against the small of her back to guide her into the restaurant.

We file into the line, and there are at least five people ahead of us. River isn’t happy about it.

“I swear, if someone takes the last piece of cherry pie, I’m going to be big mad .

” She’s standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot against the old, worn black and white checkered tile.

She looks ticked off, and it’s adorable how bothered she’s getting.

“Like the biggest kind of mad a person can get. Flipping tables and everything.”

“You take your pie seriously when you’re hungry.”

“I take my pie seriously all the time.” She side-eyes me as we step forward. “Something you should remember the next time you want to try to steal it.”

“Is it stealing if it’s given to me?”

“Considering you trick a poor, unsuspecting child into ‘giving’ it to you, yes—that’s stealing.”

I laugh. “Man, that kid is gullible. Maya should work on that.”

A proud smile curves River’s lips. “She’s a good mom.”

“She is.” I nod. “I see a lot of parents come through my classroom who aren’t. Makes me realize that even when I thought I had it bad as a kid, it could have been worse.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Not too far away. About an hour and a half south.”

“Why’d you move up here?”

I turn to her, surprised. “I’m sorry, are you trying to get to know me or something?”

“Not really. I’m just trying to distract myself from the hunger that’s ripping through my stomach so I don’t skip this ridiculous line and start stealing treats right off the counter.”

“There are three people in front of us now. The line isn’t that ridiculous.”

She shrugs, and we move up again.

“Now two.”

She growls, and I laugh.

Pushing to her toes, she bobs side to side, trying to see what’s going on in front of her, her patience wearing thin as the old couple at the counter—who I’m fairly certain were around when the dinosaurs were—move slowly.

Her legs look long encased in her skinny jeans, and I know it’s an optical illusion because she barely comes up to my shoulders on a good day.

The mustard and black polka dot shirt she’s wearing rides up at her movements, giving me a peek at her skin.

And now all I can think about is last night.

How good she looked in the moonlight doing whatever fucking pose she was doing. She could have been down there making shit up completely and I wouldn’t have known. I’d have watched her all night if I could.

The last of the line in front of us disappears and we step up to the register.

The woman behind the counter blinks twice, clearly surprised to see us.

“River. Dean. You’re here…together?” She phrases it as a question, her curious eyes darting between us.

“Yep.” I smile at her. “Just grabbing some dinner, Darlene.”

“Together?”

I try to hide my laugh, but it’s difficult, especially when I can feel the annoyance coming off River in waves.

“Yes. Together. May I please have a coffee and a slice of cherry first, then a Don’t Go Bacon My Heart.”

“I’m sorry, River, but you just missed the last of the cherry.”

Her hazel eyes fill with fury.

Uh-oh.

“What?”

The word is clipped, and even Darlene takes a step back.

“T-Terribly sorry, dear. We sold out just a few minutes ago.”

“But it’s Saturday night! You always have cherry pie on Saturday nights. Everyone’s so ecstatic for pecan day that the cherry slips under the radar.” River’s eyes fall to slits. “It was that dinosaur man, wasn’t it?”

Darlene doesn’t answer, but the thick swallow is telling enough.

“I knew it!” River explodes. “That’s it. I’m going after him.”

She takes two steps before I’m wrapping my arm around her waist, holding her in place.

“What are you going to do? Go steal a slice of pie from an old man?”

“Yes!” She squirms in my grasp, trying to free herself to go do just that.

The saddest part is, I believe her.

She’s desperate at this point.

“You cannot steal pie from customers, River, especially not the old ones. That man is easily in his nineties. For all you know, this could be his last piece of pie ever.”

“It could be mine too!” She tries to run again, and I grip her tighter.

Big mistake.

The friction she’s causing is making my already lonely cock weep with the little attention it’s receiving. If she doesn’t stop, it’s going to be obvious that I’m enjoying having her rubbing against me way too much.

Knowing River, I doubt I’d skate through that embarrassment unscathed.

I drop my lips to her ear. “Remember what your little yoga show did to me last night? I didn’t even touch you, and you did that to me. Do you want to be writhing against me right now?”

Like I knew it would, it works, and she stops fighting me.

I relax my hold on her but don’t fully let her go, not trusting her one bit.

Her cheeks are red as she straightens, smoothing down her shirt. “You can let me go now, Dean.”

I don’t.

“Can I trust you?” I say, my lips a little too close to her ear.

“Yes.”

“Do you promise not to chase after a poor, helpless old man and behave?”

She grunts. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Slowly, I release my hold on her and take a step back, letting out a relieved breath because I could really use the space.

If she noticed anything rubbing against her, she keeps it to herself, not saying anything as she adjusts her clothes and sorts herself out.

“Now, go get us a table while I finish ordering.”

“Fine, but only because if I leave, you’ll have to pay for my dinner.”

She takes off in the direction of where the old man went and I grab her wrist, tugging her back toward me.

I shake my head as she peeks up at me innocently.

“The other way,” I tell her.

She pouts and doesn’t like it but does what I tell her, sashaying off to find us a seat on the other side of the diner.

When she’s out of earshot, I turn my attention back to the register.

“Sorry about that, Darlene.”

She’s sporting a lopsided grin, shaking her head at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Oh, boy. You have it bad for her.”

I pull my brows together and decide to ignore her preposterous comment. “I’ll take a coffee and a Couldn’t If I Fried.”

She sniggers. “Of course that’s what you want.”

“What?”

“It just makes sense considering River ordered the?—”

“Don’t Go Bacon My Heart,” I finish. “Okay, I got it, but you’re reading too much into it. I always order the Couldn’t If I Fried.”

“And she always orders the bacon.”

She does?

Whatever. So what if we always order meals with ludicrously cutesy names that sound like they go together? Doesn’t mean a damn thing.

“Listen, if I slip you an extra ten, can you tell that guy who ordered the cherry pie it fell on the floor and sneak it over to my table?”

That goofy grin that hasn’t left her face grows. “For River? Or for you?”

“Darlene…”

She laughs. “Make it twenty and you got yourself a deal, sugar.”

I pay for our meals—plus the extra bribe—and make my way over to the table River grabbed us.

She’s sitting there fuming, shooting daggers across the diner at the old man, practically staring a hole in his back.

“Leave him be, River.”

“He stole my pie, Dean, and you always steal my pie. People are always stealing my damn pie and it’s totally not cool.”

“You could try getting here earlier, you know. Then maybe you’d have a chance at getting your precious pie.”

“You say that like I’m the only one of us who likes pie.

” She gasps, eyes wide. “Holy shit. I swear if you’re just buying up all the pie because you know I like it and you don’t even truly love it and adore it like it’s meant to be loved and adored, I’m going to murder you.

No, first I’ll kick you out of my apartment, and then I’ll murder you. ”

“Well, that’s doubly awful of you.”

“And true.”

She picks her fork up off the table, holding it toward me in what she thinks is a threatening manner, but I’m certain this is what being threatened by a grumpy, hungry toddler is like.

“Relax, turbo,” I say, snatching the fork away from her. “I truly love and adore the pie in just the way it’s meant to be loved and adored.”

She lets out a relieved breath, sitting back into the booth. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to murder you.”

“Developing a soft spot for me, huh?”

“No. I just don’t want to get blood all over my shoes. They’re my favorite.”

I laugh. “Fair enough.”

“Here are those coffees.” Darlene sets a cup in front of each of us. “And I found this for you, River.”

She winks at her as she slides over a plate with a single piece of cherry pie on it, then scurries away.

River’s entire face lights up, and something in my chest shifts. I don’t know what exactly. All I know is that was the best twenty bucks I’ve spent all week.

She moves faster than I’ve ever seen her, snatching her fork back and stabbing into the pie, shoving a bite far larger than she can handle into her mouth.

She moans, and there goes my dick jumping to attention again.

I shift in my seat, attempting to adjust my aching cock without making what I’m doing too obvious.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy before, and that includes the time she thought she saw Hugh Jackman walk by the diner.

She even smiles at me .

And I find myself smiling back.

“This is the best thing to happen to me all week.”

“What? Having dinner with me?”

Her smile wanes but doesn’t disappear. “If having dinner with you means free pie, then yes. Though I do wonder how Darlene managed to scrounge this up…”

Her words trail off as she tilts her head, studying me.

“What?” I fidget under her inspection.

“Did you have something to do with this?”

“What? No.” But my voice sounds too high even to my own ears. I clear my throat. “Of course not.”

“Developing a soft spot for me, Dean?” she asks with a smirk, tossing my words back at me.

Maybe.

I roll my eyes. “Just shut up and eat your pie, River.”

She does, and she doesn’t stop grinning at me the entire time.

That odd feeling in my chest lingers.