Risky Play (Red Card #1)(35)

Did everything come back to sex?

And why couldn’t my brain exorcise all those moments in Slade’s arms?

I cleared my throat and looked down. “Sorry, not one of my favorite subjects. Besides . . .” I pasted on my best smile. “Now that we’re trying to be friends, things are better, and if for some reason he reverts back, I’ll just clean Alfie’s teeth with his toothbrush and then dip it in the toilet for good measure.”

Jagger barked out a laugh. “Yeah, remind me to stay on your good side.”

“Well, dinner’s a good start.”

“I’d say so.” He returned my smile just as someone approached. “Oh, we aren’t ready to or—Hey . . .” Jagger started coughing.

I stared at the menu, then felt a foot tap mine under the table. My eyes jerked up.

And there he was, in all his glory.

Alton.

I gasped.

Jagger’s eyes widened a fraction before he smoothly said, “What’s up?”

Yup. What’s up.

I narrowed my eyes and stared across the table while Alton shrugged. “Nothing, just trying to sell more of our wine to the restaurant, decided to check it out for myself.” He turned to me. “Your father was impressed with their calamari.”

I just stared at him, unable to form words.

This was the second time I was forced to see him. To speak to him. When I didn’t want to do any of the above.

Jagger spoke for me. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

“Are you guys . . .” Alton made a motion with his hand between us. “On a date?”

“I’m wearing a dress,” I said in a pinched voice. “What do you think?”

Alton lowered his voice. “Isn’t that kind of an unspoken rule between friends, Jag?” He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. He really was thin compared to Jagger, and Slade had at least thirty pounds of muscle over him.

“Seriously?” I didn’t mean to shriek. “We’re adults sharing a meal. It’s not a crime.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Alton said in the sort of voice typically used to calm people down, the kind of voice that only makes a person want to lash out more. “All I’m saying is it’s . . . frowned upon.”

“Frowned upon?” came another voice.

One I dreamed about at night.

One that belonged to a name I screamed out more times than I’d care to admit. Hugo . . . my Hugo.

Welcome to hell.

“Slade.” Jagger inclined his head. “We were just talking about you . . . Question, do you think this place is big enough to fit your ego? I’d say it’s a close call.”

“Alton, meet Slade Rodriguez. Slade, Alton Davis.”

“If this dick,” he said, pointing at Alton, “can fit nothing but hot air into that giant head, then I guess it makes sense that my ego can fit here, right?”

I tried not to smile.

I failed.

Jagger even seemed relieved.

“Mack.” Slade ignored Alton’s sputtering. “Can you stop by the house after dinner . . . ?”

“House?” Alton repeated, voice shrill and posture rigid.

“Hell no!” Jagger laughed. “She’s with me right now, you get that, right? God, you’re such an asshole!”

I let out a long sigh. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Just to talk,” Slade added.

“What the hell? Why would she talk to you? Wait a second . . .” Alton’s eyes widened. “Are you—”

“One sec.” Slade held up a hand in front of Alton’s face. “Please, Mack.”

It was the eyes.

It was always his stupid golden eyes.

They made me want to say yes to everything and tell my heart to shut up.

“I, uh—”

Jagger cleared his throat. “Slade, admit defeat, man. You had your chance, and your true colors showed, big shock. Go sit down before you embarrass yourself.”

“Chance?” Alton piped up. His teeth ground together as his eyes narrowed.

I groaned into my hands.

“Damn right I had my chance.” Slade clenched his teeth. “And I’m still haunted by her tight thighs and breathy moans—you’re fooling no one, I know what you want. But she’s mine.”

I gasped. Again.

Alton gave me such a look of disappointment that I was ready to drown him in my water glass. “You slept with him?”

In retrospect, I should have just owned up to it rather than sitting in silence while my ex started throwing insults, but I was in shock.

“What? Our marriage doesn’t work out so you just spread your legs for some soccer playboy with an accent!” He turned red.

Jagger threw down his napkin and stood.

At about the same time, Slade grabbed Alton by the shirt and punched him across the jaw.

“Son of a bitch!” Alton said from the floor.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Slade growled.

“Better shit than slut!” Alton said, blood trickling down his chin as he tried to get up.

Before Slade could throw another punch, Jagger beat him to it.

Alton went down for a second time.