“This is my bar,” Blake drawled. His gaze flicked to her and Paul’s entwined hands; a muscle ticked in his jaw. “You didn’t attend the opening party.”
He’d invited her months ago, before everything fell apart, along with Olivia and Sammy. Farrah didn’t go tonight, so Olivia didn’t either. Sammy took a quick trip to San Francisco to check up on his bakery there, according to Olivia, who shut down when Farrah asked her how she knew Sammy’s whereabouts.
“I had something else to do.” Farrah took perverse pleasure in the storm brewing in Blake’s eyes. They weren’t crystalline anymore; they were sapphire, dark and furious. Still beautiful, but blazing with a raw, hot jealousy that sent shivers of triumph down her spine.
The dark part of her—the petty, vindictive part—wanted to break him the way he broke her. She wanted him to see what he was missing and drown in regret.
“I had a date with Paul.” She inclined her head toward the man next to her, who looked mighty uncomfortable. Farrah didn’t blame him. The tension in the air was so thick you could snap it in half. “I don’t believe you’ve met. Paul, this is Blake, one of my old design clients. Blake, this is Paul, my boyfriend.”
Paul wasn’t her boyfriend—they’d only been on three dates—and she could feel him shift in surprise. He didn’t correct her, though, bless his heart.
Guilt swirled in her gut at using him like this, but she’d deal with that later. Right now, Farrah could only focus on the displeasure radiating from Blake in waves, both at her clinical description of their relationship—old design client—and the word “boyfriend.”
Like he had any right to be upset. He was the one who’d pushed her away without warning because she “deserved better.” Well, here she was, deserving
better.
Take that.
Yes, she was being childish. No, she didn’t care.
“Nice to meet you.” Paul released her hand to shake Blake’s with an affable smile. “Blake Ryan, right? I read about you the other day. Congrats on your bar.”
“Thank you.” Blake bared his teeth in a smile. He grabbed Paul’s hand so tight the other man flinched, but Blake kept his focus on Farrah.
“Guess who’s inside right now?” His voice dropped an octave to soft and intimate, and her skin warmed in response. “My father. He came.”
Surprise rushed through her. “I’m happy to hear that.”
Farrah really was. She wanted Blake to find peace with his father. What she didn’t want was for her heart to go all crazy on her, like it was doing right now.
“How do you know each other?” Paul’s voice cut between them, and Farrah yanked her gaze away from Blake’s.
She’d forgotten Paul was there.
The darkness returned to Blake’s expression. “We used to date.” He maintained his crushing grip on Paul’s hand.
Paul’s face reddened, and Farrah glared at Blake. He smirked in return.
“So, how long have you two been dating?” he asked conversationally. The soft intimacy was gone, replaced by silk-covered steel.
“A month.” This time, Farrah was the one who smirked when Blake’s eye twitched at the implied meaning behind her words.
It took me no time to move on.
Not true, and she went on her first date with Paul two weeks ago. But Blake didn’t need to know that. Besides, if you rounded up, fifteen days counted as a month.
“Good for you. It takes most people longer than that to find a decent rebound.” Icicles hung from Blake’s barb.
Paul finally yanked his hand away.
The sudden anger in Farrah’s stomach skipped the simmering stage and went straight to full-on boiling. “There was no one to rebound from.”
Blake’s eyes sparked with challenge. “No? It didn’t seem that way when you were moaning my name every night.”
Thwack!
Pain blossomed in her palm.