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“Well, that’s a rude question to ask a guy you don’t know.”

His chest bounces when I grind my jaw. “Fine. Whatever, it’s none of my business anyway. Can you slide out? I need to get back to work.”

“No.” He spins his fork again. “You didn’t eat your dessert yet.”

“I don’t have time.” When he doesn’t move, when he sits back and spreads his arms as though to settle in for the long haul, I pick up my bag and pull the strap over my head. Given no other choice, I stand in the booth to the sound of his surprised cussing and step onto the table. Standing tall over the broad and strong Jay gives a woman a special kind of power, a swirling power that makes the air in the room turn electrical.

Bending my neck and staring down into his eyes, I swallow the lump in my throat and turn away before I say something weird. Or creepy. Or implicating.

Stepping down onto the opposite seat, then onto the floor, I glance up when Ginnie walks toward us with wide eyes and both hands carrying plates heaped with pie and ice cream. “You’re leaving?”

“I am, sorry.” I reach into my bag and take out enough money for his meal and mine, plus an extra twenty because now she has to scrub the tabletop extra hard because of my filthy shoes.

I accept one of the plates and spoons, and stuff pie into my mouth as I walk away. One spoonful. Then another. Then another. The ice cream freezes my brain, but the warm pie helps defrost it again in the next breath.

I eat two-thirds of my dessert before I reach the front counter, and because my stomach grumbles its displeasure, I stop for a moment and slam the rest down. “Thanks, Gin.” Swiping my sleeve over my mouth and setting the empty plate on the end of the counter, I drop my cash right beside it and walk away. “I’ll catch you later.”


Tags: Emilia Finn Checkmate Dark