Page 40 of Riding Dirty

When the waitress walks away, it’s Cake who speaks again. Though I really wish he fucking wouldn't. “Guess me coming here was fucking pointless then,” he says, leaning back in his seat.

“What?” I ask.

“Let’s go have that conversation.” Cake stands, but he doesn’t walk away.

He waits for me. Whatever this is, he can’t even wait for his fucking beer to get it out. Elodie slides her keys over to me. Wrapping my fingers around the keys, I dip my chin slightly, my eyes finding hers before I speak.

“We’ll be back, babe. I ordered a beer, and I’m going to drink that beer sitting across from a smokin’-hot babe,” Cake states.

I could punch him in the face right now and not give a fuck, but I don’t. Not out of respect, but because I have a sense of self-preservation. I touch Cake, and I do it unjustifiably; he kills me, and that shit would be justified.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

ELODIE

Alex and I don’t speak for what feels like hours. I’m sure it’s only been a couple of minutes, but I don’t know what the hell is going on. What I do know is that it doesn’t feel good at all.

That Cake guy was asking me questions, and I didn’t know how to answer them. Coast was no help at all. None. And that was supposed to be his friend, colleague, or whatever. Alex reaches for a chip, dipping it into the white queso, and I watch as he opens his mouth and pops it inside, biting down as a crunch fills the silence.

“What the hell was that?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

My words come out without me even thinking about them. I’m not sure what the hell just happened, but clearly, Alex doesn’t either. I’m starving, but at the same time, I can’t eat because I have no idea what is going on, and I really want to know.

My leg begins to shake, my knee jumping up and down at a speed that is probably not normal, but I don’t care. I am seriously nervous about whatever the hell is going on. There is an underlying, unknown, unsaid thing going on here, and I don’t like any part of it.

Alex reaches out, curling his fingers around mine, squeezing gently, then I feel his attention shift to look at me. Slowly, I turn my head as my gaze shifts to meet his. His brow is arched, his eyes focus on mine.

I know he’s got questions.

It’s obvious that they’re right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to be said, and honestly, so do I, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. I can’t answer any questions when it comes to what’s just happened, so voicing them would be pointless.

“That guy is hot,” Alex states.

“What guy?” I ask.

He smiles, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip as his gaze searches mine. There is a moment of silence, and I think again about saying something, but I don’t know what to say. All I can do is stare into his eyes.

“The old guy,” he announces. “He’s hot as fuck. I don’t know how old he is, but I don’t think I really care either. I would do him.”

I would make a joke about Alex’s standards, but honestly, he typically only sleeps with good-looking people. Only a few times have I given him a questionable look when someone walks out of his apartment after a night of fun.

Thinking about Cake, that name alone makes me want to ask about half a dozen questions. I would seriously love to know how he got it. I assume the guys get names based on parts of their lives, personalities, or funny anecdotes. I can’t imagine what kind of story goes along with the name Cake, but I’m beyond curious.

“I want to know what this is about. It feels weird.”

“It’s definitely weird,” Alex murmurs. “I mean, he’s hot and everything, but I can tell that Wrath wasn’t excited about him being here.”

I’m not sure if Wrath wasn’t excited, or maybe he was just as confused as I am about the whole thing. Obviously, he knows Cake, and he wasn’t angry to see him. But I don’t think he was expecting him to show up here, in Boulder, or at this bar, especially. And I really don’t think he expected to have Cake ask for a private meeting.

“I like him,” I blurt out.

“Like who?” Alex asks. “I don’t think Wrath is going to like the fact you have the hots for that old guy.”

Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I shift my attention back to meet his. “I’m not into Cake,” I state.