“I swear.” He touches his hand to my upper back for a few seconds before letting it rest on the chair behind me. “Research it. You’ve cut out sugar and, I’m assuming, excess fat and salt.”
I nod.
“Yep. Thought so. You’ve changed the way you taste food…and drinks.” He points at the champagne. “I kid you not.”
“So I might be broken after all.”
He laughs, and I do too. “No, you’re not broken.”
A waitress passes our table with a tray of empties.
“There is one way to find out,” Malachite says. “Can I order a Cosmopolitan for you?”
“Yes, please.” I nod.
He flags her down and places the order, and she heads for the bar.
“So what made you decide you needed to be healthy?” he asks.
“Several things. I was eating so much junk and gained weight. We’re talking pizza, chocolate, pastries. All the stuff that’s bad for you. And before I knew it, my clothes were getting tight.”
“I think you look great, Carla.”
“Thanks, but I wasn’t fishing for compliments, I swear.”
He smiles. “I know, and yet I want to compliment you. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t need to lose a single pound. You’re incredible.” His eyes dip to my cleavage. They stay there for a while before moving up to my mouth. His hand is back between my shoulder blades.
I clear my throat. “It wasn’t just about the weight. I’ve had a gym membership for ages and decided I needed to start using it. It took hiking through a jungle with my life hanging in the balance to realize how unfit I am. I was the weaker link. That’s for sure.”
“You’re lucky it was Magma who came after you, or you might not have made it out alive. He is one hell of a male. He holds all sorts of records from his frontline days. Years later and he can still kick ass.”
He sure can.
I look over at the bar and wish I hadn’t.
Brook and Magma are deep in discussion. She’s got her back against the bar, wine in hand, and he’s turned toward her, head bent, listening hard. It looks serious. It looks intense. Whatever they’re talking about matters to both of them. It looks like he’s confiding in her. They look close. Like they’ve really connected.
I force a smile and fix it on Malachite.
The waitress arrives and puts a Cosmo in front of me, bright pink in a martini glass with a twist of lemon riding the rim.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
“It’s time to find out if you’re really broken or not,” Malachite says, and I laugh.
“Here goes nothing.” I lift the glass and drink.
I groan my appreciation. Oh, thank goodness. It’s sweet and cold, and it goes down like a dream; so much better than the champagne.
“Well?” he asks.
“I’m not broken after all.” I take another sip to be sure.Yep. Delicious. “It’s good!”
“I told you.” He laughs.
The lights over the dance floor come up, and the first notes of a slow song roll out of the speakers. I recognize it instantly because it’s Robyn’s favorite love song. Flint is standing in the middle of the floor with the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, humans and shifters, for the first time as a married couple, please welcome to the dance floor Ridge and Robyn!”
