“Think about how Riley felt after being humiliated by her ex-husband and his fiancée.”
“Humiliated is kind of a strong word,” Riley complained. “It’s too victim-y.”
“Annoyedby her ex-husband and his fiancée,” Jasmine amended.
Riley gave her another thumbs-up then chased the straw of her margarita around the jar with her mouth.
“Prepositioned by her creepy ex-husband—”
“Griffin did what?” Nick’s shout bounced off the marble and echoed in Jasmine’s shower.
“Prepositionedher,” Jasmine enunciated.
“You better not mean propositioned, or that little shitbag is going to need a proctologist to remove my foot from his ass.”
“Not five minutes later, Riley discovers that her boyfriend has so little trust in her he’s not only having her followed, he’s tracking her phone. How do you think my client feels?”
“Throw some jargon at him,” Riley hissed, laying down on the bench in the walk-in shower.
“Don’t mess up your hair, babe. We’re going out.”
“Where are you going?” Nick demanded.
“I don’t have to tell you anything, habeas corpus,” Jasmine growled.
“Yay! Jargon!”
“You had my client followed into a professional situation, and it hindered her ability to do her job. How do you plead to these charges?”
“Jasmine, you’re a good friend. But I need to talk to Riley,” Nick said, in that tone he used when he was trying not to explode.
“No. You do not get to talk to Riley today because you’re an idiot. You have to earn the right to talk to her.”
“Fine. What do I have to do to earn the right?”
“I’ll let you know.” Jasmine poked her head into the shower. “Let’s go eat deviled eggs and flirt with businessmen on their lunch break!”
* * *
They wisely leftRiley’s phone at Jasmine’s place and walked to Millworks, snagging stools at the bar.
“Do you think my outfit makes me look like a call girl?” Riley wondered, tugging down the hem of the very short skirt she’d borrowed.
Jasmine stopped to consider, then nodded. “Definitely. But an expensive one.”
“Okay. That’s cool,” Riley decided. She spun around on her stool, nearly toppling over. “Look at that. No Nick. No purple-haired neighbor. No creepy, mean grandmother. I think I should move in with you, and we could do this like every day.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God, Rye! That would be the best thing ever. We could be our ownSex and the City.”
Riley stuffed a deviled egg into her mouth and started plotting her new Samantha Sex and the City wardrobe.
“Riley.”
The familiar gravelly rasp behind her nearly had her swallowing the egg whole. “Is that Nick, or am I having a drunk psychic vision?” Riley asked Jasmine.
Jasmine peered over her shoulder. “I think it’s Nick because I see him too.”
“How did you find us? Are you psychic? Did you insert a tracking chip under my skin?” She started patting herself down when he reached for her.
