He has a dazzling smile. “You’re worth remembering.”
Well, isn’t he the charmer?
“Can I have a medium iced cappuccino, please, Matthew?” I deliberately emphasize his name.
“I guess I’m worth remembering, too.” He enters my drink order into the register, then gets serious. “Those guys you talked to. They’re Unholy. You’re friends with them?”
I’m taken aback by his question. “Yes. I grew up with Havoc and Discord. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. The coffee is four fifty.” His sure and steady gaze doesn’t light my fire as he drags it over me, but damn it all, I wish it did. Iwantthe sparks. The thrill. Like I feel when just standing in the same space with Jester. “You weren’t kidding when you said you aren’t new to Mayhem.”
“Nope, I’m sure not. I left for a while to go to college and didn’t rush back.”
“Are you home for good?”
I suck in my lips and nod before saying, “Yep, for good.”
“I’m glad.”
“Why, thank you, Matthew. I’m glad, too.” I lean toward him but beckon him closer. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I was terribly out of place while I lived in Brighton.”
“No way.”
“It’s true,” I assure him.
He smells like cookies, probably because he works around them. Or it might be because he’s just that damn sweet. “I have a secret for you, too.”
“You do?” I whisper in his ear.
“I stand out in Mayhem.”
I burst into laughter. “Yeah, you do.”
He leans away and cringes, and I glance behind me. A long line has formed.
“Is it too forward to ask if you’re free tonight?”
I’ll never pass up the chance to spend time with his dimple. “You’re in Mayhem, Matthew. Nothing is too forward. And yes, I’m free.”
Why does Jester pop in my mind even before I finish speaking? Why can I still taste him on my lips, even though I brushed my teeth like a thousand times to rid my mouth of him? Because he’s poison. One drop of him is lethal. His pleasure is toxic, and when he held me pinned against my front door, the things I wanted him to do to me were as destructive as the things I wanted to do to him.
Jester is my past. His lesson hit its mark. I never look behind me. My focus stays forward. It saves me from repeating mistakes—namely, dating toxic men. So why aren’t I thrilled at the prospect of an actual date with someone who seems genuinely nice? I know exactly why, and I silence the part of my brain begging for someone filthy.
Someone saturated in Mayhem.
Someone with tousled brown hair and amber eyes. Who has a tongue that can—
“I hate to move you along, but they’re foaming at the mouth.” Matthew nods at the line.
Was I daydreaming about Jester? How embarrassing. I slip off my backpack and fish out my wallet. I hand him my credit card. “Give me your phone.”
Surprisingly, he hands it right over. He doesn’t have a security lock feature. Weird. I mean, I don’t either, but every guy I know does. Matthew is stacking up major trust points.
As he swipes my card, I add my number to his contacts. I hand him back his phone with a devilish grin. When he reads how I listed myself, he lets out a loud laugh.
I entered my name in his phone as Your Future Ex-wife.
Thank God he has a sense of humor.
