Page 99 of Endgame

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” he replied, still grinning. “We need to talk.”

“But I’m working.”

He raised a brow. “I thought you said you were just closing?”

I flushed bright red. “I still have clean-up to do.”

“Then I’ll wait.”

My jaw fell open and I watched as Rourke walked over to a table and lowered himself onto a chair. He began to drum his fingers impatiently against the table, a clear sign he was restless.

“Does he want something?” Alec asked, appearing at my side. His face was set in a deep frown as he glowered at Rourke. “He knows we’re closing, right?”

“Me,” I whispered, cheeks burning. “He’s waiting on me.”

“Why?”

“Because…” When I didn’t finish, Alec looked over to where Rourke was sitting and then back at me.

“So, Owens is the reason you’ve been turning me down?” He didn’t sound mad, but he didn’t sound thrilled either. “Bad idea, Mercedes,” he added quietly. “That guy has serious issues.”

Yeah. I had gathered that.

“You done here, Six?” Rourke asked then, coming to stand by the counter, eyes focused on Alec.

Embarrassed and desperate not to draw attention to an already screwed up situation, I nodded and rushed out back to grab my bag.

When I walked back into the café, Rourke and Alec were eyeballing each other and both were wearing murderous expressions.

“I’ll see you later, Alec,” I called out as I slipped around the counter to follow Rourke.

“After you,” he said, holding the door for me.

“Um, thanks.”

We walked side by side, not saying a word, all the way to where I had parked my car. When I reached the driver’s door, I paused and swung my gaze up to meet his. “What was that about?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he replied, not missing a beat. “What did you expect me to do?”

“Accept it?” I offered, pulling open the driver’s side door and getting in.

Rourke smirked and reached for the passenger door. “You don’t know me well, Six.” He sat into the passenger seat and smiled. “What?” he offered, smirking devilishly, as he fastened his seatbelt. “I need a ride.”

“Don’t make jokes.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m serious, Rourke.”

“I’m just smiling at how cute you are.”

“Cute?” I shook my head and gaped at him. “I’m on the verge of throwing you out of my car and you’re commenting on my cuteness?”

“You’re not going to throw me out,” he replied confidently.

Choosing to ignore his cocky remark, I turned my attention back to my car. I cranked the engine and dutifully ignored the asshole sitting beside me before pulling out of my parking spot and into the street.

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