Intercepted (New Hope #1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

That's more than I can say for Mallory. She married my best friend. He's dead now, and I've come home, but she still insists on seeing other men. She broke my heart, and she continues to step on it with the heel of her boot. From the moment I laid eyes on her, she was it for me. But I'm not good enough for her, and I don't know if I ever will be.

"How do I explain this?" I wonder aloud, summoning an analogy that a child will understand. "What's a toy you really wanted but didn't get?"

Blake answers immediately. "Battlestar Robot X04."

"Right." I rub my palms together, praying I don't blunder this. "So, you didn't get this robot because it was too expensive, or the store was sold-out, or it got recalled. Whatever. You got bored without your robot. What did you do?"

He shrugs, his tiny shoulders lifting a few notches. "I played with the toys I already had."

"Imagine that feeling, but for grown-ups."

"So, Momma is like your toy?"

Fuck, I wish.

"No," I say instead, giving him a stern look. "Women are not toys, and you should never treat them like they are."

Blake sighs heavily, rising from the chair to stretch his legs. "Being an adult seems like a lot of work. I don't think I want to get old."

"Don't worry, gremlin." I chuckle, feeling cold now that the child-sized heating pad has been removed from my injured hip. "You'll get muscles and a driver's license, so it's not too bad."

He wrinkles his nose, appearing like he still has something on his mind. "Are you saying we can't go to the restaurant and ruin Momma's date?"

My best friend's kid and I may have more in common than I thought. A grin spreads across my face as I look at my tormentor in a new light. David may've hated me, but he'd be proud of his son.

"Now, that is a wonderful idea, little dude," I applaud, jumping from of my seat.

Blake's smile matches mine as we dash out of the theater. "I'll get my shoes on, you get the keys!"

***

Mallory

I'm on my third glass of merlot, but I've coated my stomach in enough carbs that I hardly notice the buzz. I haven't stood to use the bathroom in over an hour, so that could change once I get to my feet.

Daniel insisted on appetizers and dessert to accompany our entrees and complimentary breadsticks. Even if I wasn't an active person, I wouldn't be able to refuse tiramisu. Especially when it's homemade in the back of Fabrizio's kitchen, which is an Italian restaurant in New Hope. In fact, it's one of only three places to eat—if you don't count the peanuts in the local dive bar.

"I've never heard of a five-date rule," Daniel teases, sipping his water.

He drove tonight, so he's not drinking. I'd understand if he wanted one glass, but he insisted that he won't take any chances with me under his wing. He's a warm-hearted, protective man, and I couldn't be happier with how our dates have gone. I told him about my five-date rule as more of a reminder to myself, because I'm seriously considering making an exception in his case.

"It's a thing," I insist, crossing my legs to quell the agonizing ache between them. I'm like a walking, talking horny vagina. If I don't get a real dick in me soon, I might faint. They'll have to wave smelling salts under my nose, comprised of male body odor.

Daniel grins, his eyes momentarily dipping to my cleavage. "I'll take your word for it."

Tonight, I went all out. It's Halloween, after all. I'm wearing a formfitting little black dress, matching heels, and a pair of feline ears I excavated from Grace's closet. She wore them in sixth grade when she played Grizabella in Pemberton Academy's reimagination of Cats. She disliked the acting but loved singing "Memory."