Page 92 of Double Daddies
We’ve been together all this time, I’ve been her only boyfriend. When she gets a chance to swim with the other fish in the sea, this is who she reels in? Why didn’t she throw him back?
Unfortunately, Cami is the only one who can answer those questions, and only if I let her know I scoped Ryle out in the first place. My gut instinct is that I don’t want her to know, and my gut is usually right.
Right now, it’s telling me this guy is a mega douche.
Maybe that’s what she’s into. Maybe she’s tasted what I have to offer, and she’s into douches now.
I shake my head, trying to throw off my insecurities.
When Ryle accepts his coffee and turns to leave, I glimpse his face up-close for the first time. Okay, so he’s good-looking, in a polished, well-manicured sort of way. If you like that kind of thing.
Which Cami obviously does. Fuck.If I’m not careful, this is going to bring my tally of mistakes up to two.
I do an about-face and walk out the door. I never should have walked through it in the first place. It was better when Ryle was a mystery, just some guy who happened to win the jackpot one night of his life. But now that I know more about him, I find myself doubting everything.
Stupid, stupid…I scold myself as I get back into my police cruiser.Stop it. She loves you. She choseyou. Not Mr. Moneybags. That has to count for something… right?
I run my hands through my hair, trying to calm my mind. I need to focus on work right now and put these thoughts to bed.Normally, I’d talk to Cami about my feelings, but I know it’s not a great time.
A sudden rapping on the glass of my window causes me to look up, and I clench my jaw instantly.
Mr. Moneybags himself is looking at me through the window.
Ryle
I wait for the officer to roll his window down, assessing what I can in the meantime. I could tell he’s a fit guy when I’d glimpsed him in the café. Then again, most of the officers who patrol this district are.
The window rolls down slowly and the man gives me an appraising stare, much the same way I’m looking at him, I imagine.
“Can I help you?”
“I sure hope so. I was wondering why you’re following me.”
Surprise flickers over his face, but he quickly replaces it with a closed expression. “I’m sorry?”
“Don’t deny it.” I casually sip my coffee, fueled by the caffeine. “I saw you following me for a couple blocks. Then you just happen to come into the café after me?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir. It’s not a crime to want a cup of coffee last time I checked.”
“No,” I reply evenly, the corner of my mouth tipping. “But you didn’t actually buy any coffee, did you?”
The officer fights to maintain his poker face. He’s good at it, I’ll have to give him that—too bad I’m better. Most of the people who grew up with a privileged upbringing such as my own learnquickly that people just seek to use us. As such, if you want to survive, you have to become quite adept at reading people.
“It’s not a crime to go into a coffee shop unless you leave without getting coffee? Is that what you’re going with?” He maintains eye contact, his expression nearly impassive.
But there’s something there in the depths of his eyes. It’s almost as though he dislikes me. Why? For being obviously rich? I’m used to that. This seems like something different—more personal—though I can’t imagine what it could be because I know I’ve never seen him before.
An ex-employee? A family member of an ex-employee with an axe to grind?
Those are the usual suspects, though neither quite fit this gentleman.
“Listen, you’ve got it wrong. Now, if you’ll excuse me, some of us actually have to work.”
I don’t rise to the bait. Comments like those are nothing I haven’t heard before. I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone. “I tell you what, we can settle this easily. It won’t take but a second for me to call Chief Bilkins and see what he thinks about this. We’re good friends, the chief and I.”
It’s an ass-hat thing to do, name-dropping like that, and I know it. But I don’t care—I just want to get to the bottom of this, and if I have to look like an asshat to a man I’ll never see again, so be it.
I’ve got him. I can see it the second my words register. He pales—the freckles on his face stand out starkly, making it clear my threat was a bullseye.
