The Killing Game(69)

She thought back to their last meeting at Lacey’s. She’d been in a kind of altered state at the time, sick at heart over how things were going with Bobby, and Jarrett had asked all those questions and she’d just wanted him to go away. He’d damn near ruined her game, and all she could think about was Bobby . . . Bobby . . . though that wasn’t his real name. And the bad hair and glasses? A fake. She’d fallen for it at first, before she’d really cared. He’d been a novelty and she’d been amused. But then he’d become a crush and now . . . now he was a drug she couldn’t live without.

But she wanted the deception to be over now. No more games. Since they’d been back together she’d tried to get him to come clean about the disguise, but he’d pretended not to know what she was talking about. And then he’d also been so distracted, and really, all she wanted was for him to screw her brains out, and he’d done that beautifully.

But he’d left her tonight . . . and here was Jarrett.

“. . . one more for the road?” he asked.

“Okay, sure.”

Why not? she figured.

When he brought her the drink, its green contents glowing beneath the lights above her head. She sank back down on the stool. She wished she wanted to be with Jarrett. She almost begged herself to give him a second chance. She needed to get over Bobby and stop being such a rat woman, but all she wanted was to have him in her bed. The true definition of a rat woman.

You’ve got it bad, girl. Really, really bad.

She drank down half her drink, then asked, “Do you ever wish you didn’t have a conscience? That you could do whatever you want and damn the torpedoes? No consequences. Just live your life any way you want.”

“Yes,” Jarrett said.

Trini gave him a long look. She remembered making love with him. It had been good for a while, but then they’d started fighting, and they just couldn’t stand each other as time wore on.

“I want to go home with you,” he said in a husky voice.

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. All she could think about was Bobby . . . inside her . . . breathing hard . . . pounding into her. The thought shot a jolt of desire up her vagina to her core. Damn, it felt good. “You can come over and have dinner,” she said, “but that’s all.” She reached in her purse, but he said, “I’ve got this.”

Actually, she’d been about to pull out her phone, intending to text Bobby to tell him she was busy. But then she recalled the last time she’d texted. She’d been a little pissed ’cause he’d been late then, too. It had made her climb the walls, like an addict needing a fix. He’d done it on purpose, she was sure. Later, he’d told her that something had come up and reminded her not to text him. She’d accused him of having a secret wife or something. A big hardy har har that had her chuckling but made him go coldly silent. For a moment she’d worried that truly was his secret, but he’d responded with a warning he’d given her once before: “I’ll text. You respond.”

Caveman stuff. Nothing she could normally stand.

“Why?” she muttered to herself. Why do you put up with this shit?

“We’re good,” Jarrett told the bartender as he threw some bills down on the counter. The bartender thanked him for the tip, then Jarrett put his hand at her elbow and steered her toward the door.

“This isn’t going to work,” she told him as they walked up the street. A blast of surprisingly cold wind, more suitable for December than October, hit them, and Trini huddled close to Jarrett to keep warm. He put his arm around her until she was snuggled against his chest.

“Don’t be such a pessimist.”

“It didn’t work before; it’s not going to now.”

“All I’m trying to do is get a free meal.”

“Bullshit. And I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“What did you make for dinner?”

They were at the steps to her apartment and she stumbled on the first one. Jarrett caught her arm and she pulled it away, smiling at him from several steps up. “It’s vegan. You’ll love it.”

“Blech.”

“I lead a healthy lifestyle. I really do. I wouldn’t drink, but I can’t help it. My man drives me to it.”

That caught him up. “Your man?”

“My man,” she repeated with a nod.

They entered her apartment and she flipped on the lights. She saw the two plates set at the table and a wave of misery welled up from her gut. Oh Bobby. And then there was anger. Fury. Maybe she would sleep with Jarrett.

“Is this the guy Andi told me about?” Jarrett asked. He perched on the wooden arm of her couch as Trini put the enchiladas onto plates and zapped the first one in the microwave.

“Yep.”

“So, he drives you to drink. That’s why you’re not with him tonight?”

“Right again.”

“Is it wrong of me to hope it doesn’t work out?”

She wagged her finger at him. Another mojito or two and she wouldn’t care so much, but she did care. Why? God knew.

“Here.” She pulled out the heated plate and slid it across the black granite counter that showed every freaking mark. She grabbed up a fork, a knife, and a napkin, and Jarrett seated himself at the kitchen bar.