Page 51 of Cruel Destinies

“Okay. Right this way.” She jotted down a note at her station and then led us through the restaurant.

“Wow! This is way nicer than I thought it was going to be,” Ashlyn said, her wide gaze taking in every inch of the place.

I had to agree. Dark and light woods stood against sleek black iron and leather, canned lighting and wall sconces standing like jewels, even with the full light of day pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The hostess sat us at a large table by one window, handing everyone menus before she excused herself.

I tried to study the menu, but my eyes kept wandering to the skaters. Most followed the edges of the rink, but a few of the more daring ones cut tricks at the center.

“We should go skating,” Arya said, bouncing a little in her seat.

Ashlyn scrunched her nose. “Uh, have you seen my two left feet? There's no way I'm putting blades on those things. I'd be lethal.”

“They're not sharpened,” Arya said, playing with the napkin in front of her. “Not for this kind of thing.”

“I'm with Red on this one,” I said, pointing my thumb at Ashlyn.

The cold, pale ice reminded me of Julian, and I just wanted to forget him for a little while. Like how good it felt when he bit into my neck, the thrill of rubbing the hardness between his legs…

“Hey, I’m Eric, and I’ll be your waiter today,” said an attractive young man. I blinked out of my lustful memories and smiled. “What would you ladies like to start with?”

I glanced down at my menu. “Cheese curds. We’re sharing. And a Dr. Pepper for me.”

Arya ordered a water, and Ashlyn got a Coke.

When the waiter walked away, giving us time to look over our menus, I leaned forward. “Was it just me, or did Waiter Guy give Ashlyn hisfullattention?”

Arya gasped. “I think you’re right. Ashlyn!” She nudged her friend with her elbow.

Ashlyn rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Aw, come on. You’re like bronzed perfection over there,” I argued. And she really was. This girl had the body of an athlete and the coloring of a surfer babe, which oddly went really well with her bright orange hair.

Ashlyn shrugged. “Eh, even if he was, he’s not my type.”

“Because he doesn’t have an Utred style haircut?” Arya teased, making Ashlyn cut her a glare.

I briefly remembered that guy from the night of the attack, and honestly, hewasway hotter than our waiter. But I wasn’t going to say that.

“What is your type?” I asked instead. “We can help you find Mr. Right Now.” I waggled my eyebrows playfully.

Ashlyn sighed as she looked out at the skaters. “I don’t know. I guess I like muscular guys. Like, I want a guy who can bench press me without breaking a sweat. And if he has tattoos, the panties are coming off!”

We burst into laughter, earning the side-eye from every patron in the restaurant. I bit back my chuckles and tried to lower my voice.

“So, basically, your type is Magic Mike,” I summarized.

Ashlyn gave a decisive nod. “Exactly. Although, I’m pretty sure Channing Tatum is everyone’s type.”

“Amen,” Arya and I said together, and this time, when we cracked up into cackles, a put-off older couple got up and left.

“I guess they haven’t seen Magic Mike,” I whispered.

The waiter returned, and we straightened, pretending to be upstanding and totally appropriate diners.

“Here are your drinks,” Waiter Guy said, serving Ashlyn’s drink first. I held my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my snickers as I flared my brows at Ashlyn behind the waiter’s back. “Are you girls ready to order?”

We placed our order, Waiter Guy beaming a little brighter as he took Ashlyn’s.

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