She winked. “Us girls always gotta stick together. You enjoy.”
The second those buffalo wings tickled my nostrils, my stomach let out the most insane growl. I had to look around the room to see if anyone else had heard it, because surely the damned thing had a bullhorn up to its mouth. I placed my book down, marking my spot with a bit of paper napkin that I quickly tore off from my silverware. And as I reached for a wing, I slathered it in ranch before bringing it to my lips.
And that was all it took.
“God, I’m starving,” I murmured to myself.
I was almost embarrassed as to how quickly I tore through those wings. My stomach cried out for more. Cried out to be filled after barely eating a meal a day as it was. I sucked the meat off those bones and dipped my fries in the remaining sauce, refusing to come up for air until everything had been sopped up, mopped up, and devoured.
And as I used the little wet wipe that had come with my meal to wipe my hands, the waitress magically appeared again.
“Good?” she asked with a soft giggle.
I leaned back. “It was fantastic.”
“Ya want anything else?” she asked as she gathered up the empty plates.
I finally reached for my glass of wine. “Got anything for dessert?”
The waitress winked at me. “I’ll bring you my favorite.”
I held my wine up to her. “Cheers to that.”
But, I didn’t even get the wine to my lips before a voice sounded in front of me.
“A girl who’s got an appetite. That’s rare in this world.”
I flickered my gaze toward the booth in front of me and found a man sitting on the edge of the booth, his head crooked around the corner.
“Thanks, I think,” I said as I took a long pull from my drink.
He stood to his feet, and I got a good look at him. He seemed ordinary enough. And by ordinary, I meant not like one of the guys who supposedly were keeping an eye on me at all times. He had some gray at his temples and a basic collared shirt tucked into a set of khakis that looked to be two sizes too big for him. His smile was kind, though. Unassuming.
It reminded me of the first time I’d ever met Gordon.
“Mind if I take a seat?” he asked, his hand pointing to the empty seat in front of me.
“Mind if I take a seat?” the boy in the leather jacket asked.
I looked up at him, my lunch still hanging halfway out of my mouth. Was he talking to me?
“Yes,” he said as he sat down, “I’m talking to you, Library Girl.”
I chewed quickly and swallowed. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. You’re good.”
He smiled, and it disarmed me. “I’m Gordon.”
“Naomi.”
“I know,” he said.
My cheeks flushed. “Y—you do?”
He nodded. “I do.”
It should’ve been my first red flag. My first glimpse into the fact that something had always been wrong with Gordon. After all, who in the hell knows someone’s name before they’re ever introduced?
I don’t know, maybe it was a common thing. Maybe some women even swooned over that kind of thing. But, after everything I had found out about Gordon—about the man that had swindled me all my life—the interaction with the kind man at the booth had me on high alert.
