Chapter 8 #2
A server stopped beside our table with a tablet in her hand. “Hi, I’m Tessa. Can I get you started with drinks?”
“Water’s good for me,” Keaton said.
“Same,” I added.
As she walked away, Keaton’s attention shifted toward the bar. I followed his focus to Ridgway, who was still watching us.
“You just did the math too, didn’t you?”
“That every drink in this place probably goes through him?” Keaton asked. “Sure did.”
“I only want your spit in my mouth,” I said, smirking.
He snorted. “Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“You’re really going to say that to me before dinner?”
“You want me to wait until dessert?”
His eyes darkened. “I want you to stop making me think about your mouth while Ridgway’s standing twenty feet away.”
“We could leave.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” Keaton leaned back in the booth, all casual except for the heat still burning in his eyes. “He doesn’t get to run us out of here.”
“Fine.” I looked down at the menu. “What are you getting?”
“Steak sandwich.”
“You already knew that?”
“I looked at the menu online.”
I shook my head and grinned. “Of course you did.”
Tessa returned with two waters. “Ready to order, or do you two need another minute?”
“We are. I’ll take the ribeye burger,” I answered. “With fries.”
She tapped the order into her tablet. “And for you?”
“Steak sandwich,” Keaton replied. “Fries too.”
Once she left, I took a sip of water and tried not to look toward the bar, but I couldn’t help myself.
Ridgway had moved to the far end, pouring something from a bottle into a cocktail shaker while talking to a couple seated in front of him.
From a distance, he looked like nobody, just another bartender working a shift with a towel over his shoulder, making drinks and flashing a fake smile for tips.
But to us, he was the guy who’d blown up our lives once, and I already knew what I could do to him if I let myself go there. But I didn’t. Instead, I looked back at Keaton.
He was staring at me over the rim of his water glass. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
His brow lifted.
“Fine. No.” I glanced back toward the bar, where Ridgway was still pretending not to watch us. “For about two seconds, Florida sounded really fucking convenient.”
Keaton’s hand went still around his glass. “Because of him?”
“Him. Devon. Titan. All of it.” I sighed. “Some part of me likes the idea of going somewhere none of them are.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“But that can’t be why I go.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“And staying can’t be some kind of test either.” I looked down at the glass of water in front of me and watched condensation slide down the side. “If I stay, it can’t be because I’m trying to prove I won’t run. If I go, it can’t mean I’m choosing Florida over you.”
“I don’t want you moving across the country,” he admitted. “Still, I want to be supportive because I know this could be good for your career, and I’m not going to be the asshole who asks you to stay because I’m scared.”
“You’re scared?”
He swallowed. “Aren’t you?”
“I don’t know if scared is the right word.
” I closed my eyes for a second. “I hate that Atlantic Combat might be the best option for my career, and I hate that I can’t afford to ignore the opportunity.
I don’t want to move to Florida because I’m running from everything here, but I don’t want to turn down a move that could help my career just because I want to stay close to you. ”
His gaze dropped for a moment. “I get that.”
“If I go, it has to be because Atlantic Combat is the right move for me, not because Ridgway works here, Devon kissed you, or everything got complicated and Grant gave me somewhere else to go.” I looked toward the bar once more, but this time, Ridgway was watching and waiting for a reaction, but seeing him no longer made Florida feel like an escape.
“I haven’t decided anything,” I said to Keaton.
“Okay.”
“And I’m not deciding tonight.”
“Good.” His foot brushed mine under the table. “Because tonight, I researched a restaurant, put on jeans that make my ass look good, and got us banana bread for later.”
I made a show of glancing under the table even though I couldn’t see anything from that angle. “The jeans are doing their job.”
“I know.”
“Cocky.”
“Yeah, but you love my co—”
Tessa returned with our food and set my burger in front of me first, then Keaton’s steak sandwich in front of him. “Can I grab you anything else?”
He shook his head. “I think we’re good.”
I nodded in agreement, and we dug into our food.
For a while, the night became what it should’ve been before Ridgway tried to drag the past up to our table.
Keaton stole one of my fries even though he had his own. I took a bite of his steak sandwich because he kept insisting it was better than my burger. It wasn’t, but it was good enough that I didn’t give him too much shit for it.
When we finished eating, the heat between us hadn’t settled.
If anything, it got harder to ignore. Every brush of his foot under the table pulled my attention back to him.
Every look across the rim of his glass made my pulse race.
Every time his hand drifted close to mine and stopped just short, my body remembered exactly what those fingers could do.
By the time Tessa came back with the check, I was half-hard and annoyed about it.
Keaton reached for the black folder before I could.
“Absolutely not,” I protested.
His brow lifted. “You want to wrestle over it in public?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“I planned the date. I’m paying.”
“I can pay for myself.”
“I know.” He slipped his card into the folder. “You can get it next time.”
Next time.
Two words, and suddenly the restaurant felt too warm.
Ridgway laughed behind the bar, loud enough to pull my attention. He was looking right at us now, not even pretending otherwise. A customer said something to him, and he answered without taking his eyes off our booth.
“Don’t,” Keaton warned.
“I didn’t move.”
Tessa returned with the slip for Keaton to sign. He did, then tucked his card into his wallet. When I glanced toward the bar again, Ridgway wasn’t there. In his place, another bartender was wiping down the counter like nothing had changed.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
We slid out of the booth, and he reached for my hand without making a production of it. We headed outside and were walking back to the car when I saw Ridgway leaning against the side of the building with a cigarette between his fingers, the orange tip glowing as he watched us.
“Leaving already?” he asked.
I kept walking, but Keaton stopped so abruptly that I had no choice but to stop with him.
Keaton turned toward Ridgway. “You need something?” he said, so calmly that anyone else might’ve missed the edge beneath it.
Ridgway pushed away from the wall. “Just surprised. Figured you two would want to stick around. Make a whole scene out of it.”
“We’re leaving,” Keaton replied.
Ridgway’s gaze dropped to our hands again. “You sure about that? Last time I saw you two together, Cross couldn’t get away fast enough.”
The bastard knew exactly where to aim.
I turned toward him fully. “You want to do this here?”
His smile widened. “Do what?”
“Pretend you matter.”
Keaton huffed, but there was no humor in it.
Ridgway’s smirk slipped. “I remember things differently.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“You shoved him off pretty quickly back then.”