Page 55 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

“What are you having today?” Lyla asked.

The three of us ordered the special, and after Pops paid, we turned from the counter with a numbered table card.

Griffin stood and dropped some cash on the table.

The blonde stood too, cozying up to his side.

Their arms brushed.

A green haze spread across my vision and my jaw clenched so tight I doubted I’d be able to unlock it and eat the chicken salad sandwich I’d ordered. I had no right to be jealous, yet here I stood, fuming. Not just at Griffin and the fact that clearly he had some sort of relationship with that woman and hadn’t bothered to mention it. But with myself.

Once again, fooled by a handsome man.

“Hi, Griffin.” Pops walked over. “How are you today?”

“Fine, Covie. You?”

“Famished. Lyla can usually fix that problem though.”

“I came here for the same reason.” Griffin grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze flicked to Frank and his expression flattened. “Frank.”

“Eden,” Frank muttered, then walked away to claim the last remaining empty table.

What the hell? What was I missing?

“Here’s your coffee, Covie.” Lyla came over carrying a cup balanced on a saucer. “Want me to put it at your table?”

“Oh, I’ll take it.” He lifted it from her and smiled, his attention completely on Griffin and Lyla.

The blonde glared daggers at Pops like Griffin had at Frank.

Definitely missing something.

Silence stretched awkward and thick as Pops lifted his coffee cup to his lips, ignoring the blonde’s existence.

Finally, Griffin cleared his throat and met my gaze for the first time. “Winslow Covington, this is Emily Nelsen.”

Emily Nelsen.

The reporter.

Well, damn. This just got better.

“Hi. Nice to meet you,” I lied with a fake smile.

“Same.” She leaned in closer to Griffin.

He stiffened but didn’t move away. Bastard.

“We’d better claim our table,” Pops said. “Have a good one, Griff.”

“You too.” His gaze met mine for a split second, then darted away as he headed for the door.

Emily scurried after him.

Don’t stare. Don’t stare.

Griffin was just a hookup. A casual fling. A fling that was very, very over now.