Charity Case - The Complete Series - Piper Rayne Page 0,237

“This place is cute.”

Roarke stands on the outside of the booth, leaning over and positioning both cups up for coffee.

“Who said I wanted another coffee?”

He smirks. “I doubt they have soy milk, but you’re on a vacation of sorts so you can live a little.”

I lean back in the seat, my arms over my chest. “This is my vacation?” My eyes shift out the window to a Mayberry-type town.

His smirk grows wider, like it usually does the longer we converse, but he doesn’t have time to reply because a woman walks up to our table.

“Roarke?” she asks. Her black waist apron is stained with grease suggesting it’s already been a busy morning for her and her blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail, makeup smeared, but she’s an attractive woman.

“Liv?” he asks, backing up a step. I note the sound of surprise in his voice.

She awkwardly rocks forward on her worn out sneakers unsure if she should hug him or not, telling me they knew each other well at some point.

“It’s good to see you.”

“I had no idea you worked here.” Roarke’s back stiffens, his hands finding his pockets once again. “How long?”

“Two months.” Their eyes lock and for a moment, and suddenly I feel like a third wheel.

Roarke breaks eye contact first, shifting his gaze to the stained linoleum floor.

Liv’s bright blue eyes shift in my direction as I gawk at the two of them. “I’m sorry, did you want coffee?”

“Sure.” My voice croaks as though I just figured out how to talk.

“Be right back.” A smile creases her lips and she ignores Roarke, beelining it behind the counter.

“The one who got away?” I ask.

Roarke puts on the sunglasses that were hanging from the front of his shirt. “I’ll be right back.”

“You’re not going to answer me?”

He turns back around, his hand resting on the edge of the booth. “Not the one who got away, but an ex. Yes.”

A sprout of jealousy bursts through the soil in my heart. “Oh.”

“Be right back.” He heads out of the diner without another look at either of us.

Questions bubble in my head like a baffled cartoon character. They remain unanswered as I watch Roarke walk across the street to a big white building in the middle of the town square.

“Do you take cream?” Liv’s voice pulls me back to my surroundings.

“Any way you have soy milk?” I ask, feeling a little pretentious for doing so.

Liv smiles and her effortless beauty waters that tiny sprout of jealousy, causing it to grow another inch.

“We do. One of our farmers makes the best soy milk. Let me grab you some.”

How can I be sitting here resentful toward this woman who is only being sweet to me? She should be hating me unless…she was happy to get out of the relationship with him. Maybe he cheated on her or ran off and left her behind.

She arrives back at the table with a little carafe of milk.

“I think you’ll love it. Do you know what you want for breakfast?” She poises her pen over the pad of paper in her hand. It’s then that I see the ring on her left hand. The diamond is small but the gold band worn. It’s not a new marriage.

Ah, that’s why there’s no jealousy on her part.

“Um… I’ll just have the American breakfast. Eggs poached and instead of hash browns, can I have fruit please?”

She scribbles my order down. “Sure thing. Do you know what Roarke wants?” She eyes the empty spot on the other side of the booth.

“I don’t.”

He knew my coffee order, but I have no idea what he prefers in the morning. I mean he made me that huge breakfast, but is he an oatmeal guy or an eggs man?

“I doubt he eats what he did at eighteen. I’ll wait until he returns. If you need anything, just holler.”

“Thank you.”

I remain in the booth, sipping my coffee and staring out the window. It’s a cute town. A little rundown but quaint nonetheless. I’m not sure what kind of place I thought Roarke was raised in, but I’m not sure I pictured this.

A group of men in overalls and dirty shirts laugh and carry on at the street corner. An elderly couple enters the diner and sits a couple of booths down from mine. As I’m busy taking in my surroundings, a police officer walks in.

He’s much different than the Chicago police officers I’m used to seeing. His swollen gut falls over his pants where the leather