Page 3 of Striker’s Rebel

And the tenth.

Because there were years when I wished somebody had looked at me and refused to believe the bullshit coming out of my mouth.

I don’t tell her any of that.

I slide behind the bar instead and reach for the bucket of lemon wedges.

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone.”

Her shoulders loosen a fraction.

“For tonight.”

They tense right back up.

“June.”

“What? That was generous.”

“You make everything worse.”

That lands.

She knows it does because regret flashes across her face immediately.

“June, I didn’t mean…”

The front door opens.

I glance toward it automatically.

Then I wish I hadn’t.

Jamie walks inside with two men I’ve seen around him before.

Eliana goes still beside me.

There it is again.

That tiny change.

Most people probably wouldn’t notice it. Jamie certainly doesn’t seem to.

I do.

I notice because when you spend years trying to predict whether someone is going to hurt you, you become very good at watching bodies.

Jamie spots her and starts toward us.

He has been with Eliana for six months. She moved in with him after the first month, which I hated then and hate even more now.

For the first few weeks, I thought he was merely annoying. He texted too much. Showed up when we were supposed to be having dinner alone. Wanted to know where she was all the time.

Then he started making little comments.

Her skirt was too short.

That guy at work looked at her too much.