Page 54 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

“He’s an actor. He stars in one of the most popular shows on Broadway at the moment. It’s a demanding job. He works constantly and performs nearly every night. Except I guess the director put in his understudy tonight. Adam is getting sick or something. I don’t know. But he doesn’t like having anyone in his spotlight. He was upset and his first reaction is still to call me.”

“Hmm.” The guy sounded like a spoiled bitch. Definitely not someone I pictured Piper marrying.

I was stereotyping based on his job as an actor, but I bet the guy spent more time grooming in one day than I did in a month. He probably got manicures and regular massages too.

They were divorced, and unloading his problems on her was weak.

She needed a strong partner. Someone sure. Someone as sturdy as the wood slabs in my shop. Not because she couldn’t stand on her own, but because a weaker partner would pull her down. She needed someone to lift her higher.

Someone like me?

That thought sent ice through my veins. I wasn’t the guy for Piper. Maybe I could have been once. If I’d met her years ago, I might have deserved her.

But things had just changed too much.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she muttered, though it clearly was not.

We ate the rest of the meal in silence, each of us concentrating on our food rather than the company. Piper ate a few more angry bites but then lost her appetite, picking at her food while I finished the rest of mine.

“Want another beer?” I asked.

She dabbed the corner of her mouth, then gently set down her napkin. Her back was straight as an arrow, her shoulders poised. We were back to prim and proper now, were we? “No, thank you. This was a lovely meal.”

Lovely.

I shoved my chair backward to clear my plate, but when I caught Piper’s face from the corner of my eye, my ass slammed down in the seat.

The color of her skin was ghostly white. Her mouth was turned down. The brightness in her eyes had vanished, and the rich color I’d memorized weeks ago in her camper had dulled to a gray mud.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

She shook her head. “What are we doing, Kaine?”

“Eating dinner.”

“No.” She shook her head, motioning between us. “What are we doing?”

Fuck. This was not the conversation I wanted to have tonight. “I thought we were just keeping things casual.”

“Do you think casual is going to end well?”

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Why does it have to end?”

Weren’t we still having fun? Piper still crossed my mind all the time, but I’d finally figured out the answer to my question. Why her? Because she was special. I didn’t analyze my emotions. I didn’t dissect the way she made me feel. Over the last couple of weeks, I’d blocked all that out by focusing on the sex.

The routine we’d fallen into was working for me. And until thirty seconds ago, I’d thought it was working for her too.

“I wish . . .” She stared blankly at her uneaten roll, letting her words die in the room.

This dinner invitation had been an epic mistake.

“Let’s have some cake,” I offered. “Take it easy.”

“Actually, I think I’d better go.”

That stung more than it should have for a casual relationship. She stood from the table, lifting her plate, but I held out a hand.