Page 79 of Forever Relentless

I shrugged. “Don’t care.”

She was going to argue, so I tapped the bucket. “You get one more.”

Briar looked between me and the bucket. “It’s the last one.”

“I know.”

Our gazes held over the table. She reached for the bucket, then pulled her hand back.

“I can’t eat your last wing.”

“Suit yourself.” I reached in, took it, and ate it in three bites. I saw a look of outrage that she didn’t hide in time. “What? I offered it.”

“I didn’t think you were serious,” she scolded.

“See what thought did?” I used the wet wipe that came with the order. I don’t know why I used it. Those tiny squares are never enough to properly clean your hands.

“I need to wash my hands, they only ever give you one of these, what’s the point?”

Briar looked at her own hands, which had no trace of sauce or chicken. “Yeah, good idea.”

I leaned back and looked at her. “So did you just come over to eat my chicken?”

She looked away. “I don’t know why I’m here,” she admitted. “The chicken’s just a bonus.”

“Not my company?”

That earned me a flat stare. “I choked, and got robbed of a wing, so what do you think?”

I nodded solemnly. “The company was better, I hear you.”

Her huff of displeasure almost made me smile.

“Why are you here? Digby’s serves water and chicken wings.”

It was my turn to look away. “Yeah, I needed a change of scenery.” I looked at the street. “Where’s the yoga class?”

Briar leaned forward, pointing behind me. “It’s held in the gym just up there.”

“Gym?” I twisted in my seat to look behind me. I couldn’t see anything that screamed gym. “What’s the gym like?”

She blew out a breath. “I dunno, it’s a gym. It’s got weights and shit.”

I scanned her body quickly. At ‘work’ she wore baggy shirts or jumpers and loose-fitting pants; tonight she was wearing yoga pants, a form-fitting T-shirt, and a simple navy zip-up hoodie. She was slender; her baggy shirts had been hiding any curves she may have been carrying. Not that curves were bad — curves were very, very good.

“You look like you know your way around a gym.”

Briar looked down at herself and back up at me. “I know my way out of one, is what you mean. I’m there for the yoga class. The machines, weights, sweating, and grunting can stay in their lane.”

I finished my water, not offering her any, and knowing I probably should.

“That doesn’t exactly scream gym.”

“It’s on the upper level,” she explained. “It’s not one of those places with fancy machines and things, more like bench pressing and weight bags, that kind of thing. Mason used to go there to let off steam.” She flicked her hair away from her face. “Or something. That’s how I know about it.”

I turned to look over my shoulder again. “Weight bags?”

“My God, Noah, do you want me to take you there?” she snapped irritably.