Page 15 of Missing Pieces (Men of Manhattan 3)

"Who's defensive now?" he said.

"I'm not being defensive. When was your last relationship, hotshot?"

He ignored me as the waitress put our food down in front of us.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" she asked and batted her eyelashes at him again.

This time, he smiled at her. I knew he was just trying to prove something, but I couldn't deny that I was a little jealous.

"Not right now," Tyler said. "Thanks, Emery."

"Sure thing." She smiled at him before walking away.

"Such a dumb name," I said under my breath.

Chapter 8

Tyler

Saturday

Things had just taken an unexpected turn. Yes, Hailey had flirted with me last night. But that was her job. It was a tip game. She was so hot and cold that half the time it seemed like she hated me and the other half of the time it seemed like she wanted to jump me. Right now she was acting like the latter, and I wasn't going to deny that I was flattered. Although my lack of game had made her think I was gay, which didn't really help my current mood.

The fact was that Hailey was gorgeous. Did I dream

about what her tits looked like beneath her tight tank top? Yeah. But anyone who met her would probably dream of that. It didn't mean anything. The more jealous she seemed to get, the more appealing I found her pout, though. But I wasn't going to try to sleep with her. The last thing I needed was a random lay to get over my own problems. I had tried that before. It didn't work. And anything with Hailey would be meaningless, because in a few days I'd be dropping her off in California and I'd be heading to basic training. I'd never see her again.

But it didn't mean we couldn't both tiptoe around the idea of something more. It didn't mean I had to avoid staring at her long legs as she climbed in the car. Or her breasts when she leaned close to me. I was just going to enjoy this. Because even though I had set out to be alone on this trip and think, I was enjoying myself much more now that I had company.

"You didn't answer my question," she said and took a bite of her omelet. "When was your last relationship?"

"How long does it have to last in order to be considered a relationship?"

"The length doesn't matter. But it only counts if you had the girlfriend, boyfriend talk. The labels and everything."

"Yeah. Gotcha. My last relationship ended one week ago."

She nodded like she suddenly understood me completely. "Sorry," she said.

"Yeah. I feel bad about the way I left things, but I'm not really that upset about it. She was a great girl, but we weren't really that compatible."

"So why the sudden need to drive to California, then?"

"It's not your turn. How many guys have you slept with?"

She stopped chewing mid-bite. "That's a really personal question."

"It can be your pass."

She shook her head and set down her fork. "Um." She scrunched her lips to the side as she thought. "Does hand stuff count?"

I laughed. "No."

"Right. Well, three then."

I nodded. "Okay, your turn."

She leaned forward slightly. She did that a lot. It seemed like a habit from working at a bar. But I wasn't complaining. It allowed me to see down her shirt without being too obvious.

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