through her. “I’m happy to hear that.”
Farrah really was. She wanted Blake to find peace with his father. What she didn’t want was for her heart to go all crazy on her, like it was doing right now.
“How do you know each other?” Paul’s voice cut between them, and Farrah yanked her gaze away from Blake’s.
She’d forgotten Paul was there.
The darkness returned to Blake’s expression. “We used to date.” He maintained his crushing grip on Paul’s hand.
Paul’s face reddened, and Farrah glared at Blake. He smirked in return.
“So, how long have you two been dating?” he asked conversationally. The soft intimacy was gone, replaced by silk-covered steel.
“A month.” This time, Farrah was the one who smirked when Blake’s eye twitched at the implied meaning behind her words.
It took me no time to move on.
Not true, and she went on her first date with Paul two weeks ago. But Blake didn’t need to know that. Besides, if you rounded up, fifteen days counted as a month.
“Good for you. It takes most people longer than that to find a decent rebound.” Icicles hung from Blake’s barb.
Paul finally yanked his hand away.
The sudden anger in Farrah’s stomach skipped the simmering stage and went straight to full-on boiling. “There was no one to rebound from.”
Blake’s eyes sparked with challenge. “No? It didn’t seem that way when you were moaning my name every night.”
Thwack!
Pain blossomed in her palm.
Farrah stared at her hand, then at Blake’s face, where a bright red palm print marred his perfect cheek.
His chest heaved; his jaw clenched so tight she could hear his molars scream in protest. Other than that, no reaction to her slap.
It was the first time she’d slapped someone in her life.
“What the fuck!” Paul shoved Blake’s chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Paul never cursed.
Looked like tonight was bringing out the best in all of them.
“Paul, let’s go.” Farrah was tired, so tired she couldn’t stand straight. “He’s not worth it.”
After a second’s hesitation, Paul released Blake with a scowl. Blake didn’t retaliate. He just stared at the other man blankly, like he wasn’t sure how they got there.
Farrah and Paul left him standing there beneath the bright lights of his bar, a lonely king in front of his empire.
Once they were out of Blake’s presence, the vindictiveness that’d sunk its claws into Farrah’s skin melted away, replaced by shame.
“Paul—”
“Don’t.” Paul walked on the far side of the sidewalk, like he couldn’t stand to be too close to her. “Let’s talk after we’ve both had some rest.”
They both knew how the talk was going to go.
Even though Farrah had debated ending things with Paul herself, she hated how this all happened. Paul was a sweet guy who did nothing wrong. He deserved better than to feel like a cheap rebound.
She stared at the ground, angry tears searing her eyes.
Once again, Blake Ryan had to ruin everything.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“He shoots, annnnd he scores!” Justin crowed. He made a throwing motion with his hands as the ball swished through the net, breaking the tie and bringing his and Sammy’s score up by two points. “Good job, man.” He slapped hands with Sammy and grinned at Blake. “You’re off your game today, Ryan.”
“Whatever.” Blake watched Landon fetch the ball with zero interest. He was a competitive person by nature, but today, he didn’t give a shit who won their two-on-two basketball game.
“Whatever?” Justin’s eyebrows shot up. “What crawled up your ass and died? You’ve been acting like a moody sonofabitch all day.”
Blake glared at him. He regretted inviting Justin to join their game, and he regretted hiring him away from The Egret to Legends even more. Justin was a good bartender but a major pain in his ass, and now he had to deal with his smart mouth day in and day out. “Is that any way to talk to your boss?”
“Boss, my ass,” Justin said cheerfully. “Fire me if you’d like. I’m still right about the moody bitch part. Right?” He looked at Sammy and Landon, who shrugged in agreement.
Traitors.
“How was the grand opening?” Sammy lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “Sorry I missed it. Had to deal with bakery stuff in San Fran.”
A passing group of girls ogled his bare abs through the chain-link fence of the Tompkins Square Park basketball courts.
“It’s cool.”
“Really?” Sammy eyed Blake with suspicion. “Because you look like you want to snap my head off and feed it to those stray dogs.”
“It’s not because of you.”
No, it was because of