Accidentally Aphrodite - Dakota Cassidy Page 0,67

hunting knife and take everyone out in the scorned-lover routine she was almost certain they were anticipating.

Igor’s eyes bulged momentarily when he caught sight of her chest, stuffed into her red jacket like a sausage, but he looked away almost immediately.

So she plopped down at the table just two away from where they sat and folded her hands in front of her and waited for whatever was next.

“So, hot mocha lattes with a shot of espresso and some whipped cream in the shape of happy clouds?” Nina asked on a chuckle, sliding into the seat next to Quinn’s.

“Or arsenic with a spot of rat poisoning so I can end my suffering. Because um, humiliating when the people who did you wrong clearly think you’re here to end it all—or take them as hostages,” Quinn joked.

But she didn’t feel like she was suffering at all. Seeing Igor did nothing for her. It didn’t evoke rage or grief or much of anything, and that was odd. There was a time when seeing Igor, his horn-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, reminded her she had another half to make her whole—or so she’d thought.

Khristos pulled out the chair next to her and reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. She was determined to handle this with class and some dignity, and without the pretense that she’d brought this hot hunk in here to show Igor she was doing just fine.

It was like a Mexican standoff, a waiting duel of who’d look at whom first. Or which of the two would ask whom her plastic surgeon was first.

Igor and Shawna, in defensive mode, huddled together, their bodies covering each other protectively as they whispered. Shawna’s red hair spilled down her lean back, her tight jeans revealing a pink thong at the waist.

How strange that she felt so indifferently about the fact that Igor had always said he didn’t care for what he’d dubbed “trashy lingerie”. Rather than be outraged, she chalked it up to yet another thing he’d done to pretend he was something he wasn’t.

Khristos leaned into her, his eyes scanning her face. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“In this game of awkward chess, I’m wondering who’s going to make the first move.”

The question was answered when Igor pushed off the table with his hands and approached them. His lean, tall frame moved across the floor with caution. His horn-rimmed glasses were nowhere on his boy-next-door face, and his blue eyes, eyes she’d always thought pretty enough to be a woman’s, were wary.

Nina went into serial-killer defensive mode, her body language stiffening, her low growl menacing.

She patted Nina’s hand to keep her in check. Igor might be a lying cheat, but he was as docile and non-confrontational as she was.

His smile was hesitant as he ran a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. “Quinn. Good to see you.”

She straightened her tinted glasses, hiding her freakishly purple eyes. “You, too, Igor. How’ve you been?”

“Okay, I guess.”

Quinn shook her head in amazement. He was minimizing his happiness to keep from rubbing salt in her wound. She saw it in his eyes, in the way he avoided Shawna’s curious gaze.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“Is it about the sheets? I’ll give them to you, if you want. You paid for them—”

Quinn barked a laugh, cutting him off. The old, sad, misguided Quinn might have thrown the idea of those sheets right back in his face with a sharp retort about sloppy seconds and wisecracks about spending his time with a woman who thought picking the next Bachelorette was like taking an IQ test.

But the new Quinn, the new one who saw all the things wrong about them as a couple, all the cruel analogies she’d applied to Shawna out of anger, shook her head again.

Looking back now, she marveled at how she’d diligently ignored coming home to the lingering scent of Britney Spears perfume and Bubble Yum bubble gum in the air in favor of believing her Mr. Darcy would never cheat.

“I don’t want the sheets, Igor. I’d just like to talk.”

“Here? In front of your—”

“Friends,” Nina provided with a snarl. “Scary, cheater-hating friends who’ll—”

“Nina,” Khristos warned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“It’s okay,” Quinn said, though the word “friend” warmed her to her core. “Slow your roll there, Dark Overlord. I’ve got this.”

Igor blanched when Nina snapped her teeth at him. “You upset her—one GD tear—and I’m comin’ for you. Got it, lover?”

Quinn hopped up and placed her hand on Nina’s