relieve him just when I’m starting to question myself for waiting around to have dinner with him. I notice him grab a tattered notebook from under the register before giving the new bartender a friendly wave and stepping out from behind the bar.
“Ready to go?” he asks, my eyes still trained on the notebook.
“Is that a notebook where you write ideas for your books?”
“Yup. I have a lot of time to think while I’m bartending, so I always have to have something handy.”
My eyes follow the movements of the notebook, like a dog watching a bone. All his brilliant ideas, his next book, it’s all in there? An embarrassing little whimper falls from my lips.
“Damn, you weren’t kidding; you really are a fan, huh?” There’s a hint of surprise embedded beneath the teasing.
“That’s an understatement, I think.”
“So, what would you give me if I let you take a peek in here?” he teases, waving the notebook in front of me, the flirting lilt back in his voice full force.
“I swear by my pretty floral bonnet I will end you if you’re messing with me.”
Riot barks out a laugh, putting his notebook over his heart dramatically. “A Firefly reference? Be still my heart.” He studies me for a few seconds, tugging his lip ring between his teeth as his eyes bore into me. “I’ll let you have a look, but not until after we eat.”
“Seriously?”
“I never lie,” he says with a grin. “Come on.” He jerks his head toward the door, and I stand up, leaving my half-finished beer behind without a second thought and follow him.
We don’t go far, slowing in front of a burger place a few doors down from the bar. “I love this place,” I say in answer to his unasked question, and he opens the door to usher me in.
Once we’re seated and have placed an order, I glance across the table at the large, undeniably sexy man, irritation and attraction warring in my gut.
“I came to the bar tonight to tell you off,” I confess, taking a sip from my soda.
Riot’s eyebrows go up, and another amused smirk curves on his lips. “Is that so? Well, by all means.” He makes a sweeping gesture with his hands as if to give me the floor.
“You’re the reason Bishop is pushing me away.” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t treat it as one, instead keeping his steady gaze fixed on me as he waits for me to continue. “He’s my best friend, he’s…”
“I don’t want to take your best friend away,” he says when I trail off, sounding gentler than he has before now. “I take it the two of you still haven’t talked?”
“Not for real. I went to his place that night after the bar, but I was kind of a drunk idiot. I tried to stop by to talk to him on Saturday night too, but…”
“But he was with me,” he concludes. “Which is why you wanted to come tell me off.”
“Pretty much.”
“I mean it; I don’t want to take him away from you,” he says again. “I don’t want to talk about things that aren’t my place, but I think you should try to talk to him again, sober.”
I study him skeptically for several seconds, rolling my straw between my teeth. “If you’re dating him, why are you giving me advice about how to make things better between us?”
Riot chuckles and runs his tongue along his bottom lip, flicking it against his lip ring. “Ask Bishop, it’s not my place to say.”
Well, if that isn’t the most cryptic shit I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what is. But he seems genuine enough, so tomorrow I’m going to go talk to Bishop and hopefully clear a few things up.
“So, how’d you become a sci-fi author?” I ask, changing the subject just as the waiter drops off our food.
Riot picks up a few fries and shoves them into his mouth, licking the salt and grease off his lips afterward, my eyes following his tongue involuntarily.
“My parents got divorced when I was eight, and it was pretty messy. I got dragged into court to pick who I wanted to live with and ended up having to switch schools, all that bullshit a little kid shouldn’t have to deal with. Reading sci-fi was my escape. I loved the idea of completely different worlds, problems that were black and white, you never had to guess who the bad guy was. I loved it the most when a powerless