“No! Don’t listen to—”
“Sierra is the best mom. I know we just broke up, but Pedro hasn’t been sleeping well. I think we should take him to the park tomorrow together, don’t you?”
“No! There is no—”
“How old is Pedro?” Gary asked, obviously concerned about being thrown into a sticky ex situation.
Kane gave a smile. “Just turned one year old. Right, honey?”
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
Kane held up his hands. “Do what? It’s not Pedro’s fault we settled most of our arguments in the bedroom. Neither of us were ready for such intensity, but Pedro deserves our full support.”
Gary began to cough. “I-I didn’t know about this situation.”
“Of course not, it’s relatively new,” Kane said cheerfully. “You mind if I pull up a chair real quick? What are you drinking, Gary? I’ll buy the next round.”
Sierra opened her mouth to take control but it was too late.
Gary jumped up from the table with his beloved phone. A sick smile curved his weak mouth. “Uh, sorry, but I’m not ready for this yet. And I, uh, forgot that I need to get home to let the—uh, my dog out. Take my seat, Kane. It was nice to meet you, Sierra.”
Sierra blinked. “But—”
Gary took off.
Kane dropped in the seat across from her, wrinkling his nose at Gary’s choice of cocktail. “An apple martini? Really? How did you manage to stay beyond the intros?”
“I am going to kill you.”
He sipped his whiskey, put his elbows on the table, and grinned. “Trust me, I’ll be better company than Mr. Flip Flops.”
“What are you even saying? Have you gone insane? Barging over here and ruining my date? You have absolutely no right!”
“Maybe not, but I saved you from a worthless evening. Don’t even try to lie and tell me you found anything in that guy valuable enough to stay past appetizers.”
She pressed her lips together, obviously pissed, but there was another spark in her eyes that kept him in his seat. Interest. When was the last time this vibrant woman had a man who’d not only meet on her level, but challenge her? “My opinion has nothing to do with it,” she said primly. She could’ve left, but instead she reached for her wine glass. “Stay out of my personal life, Masterson. This is your last warning.”
“Duly noted.” He tipped a finger and the waitress ran over. “Can we get a bucket of oysters, an IPA, and a”—he glanced at her glass—“Prosecco?”
“Of course. Be right back.”
Sierra gave a snort at her rushed retreat. “You’re so damn bossy. The only reason I’m staying is I didn’t finish eating and you might as well pay. But if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll out you in public.”
“Flip Flops didn’t stick around to hear Pedro was our dog.” He regarded her across the table with a glittering gaze. “Any man who runs that fast isn’t worthy of you, Sierra.”
She shifted in her seat but refused to give him an inch. “Neither are you.”
His lip quirked. “You’re right. But I’ll get there.”
He heard the slight intake of her breath. She fiddled with her napkin. “Why do you keep calling him flip flops? Is this shoe discrimination?”
“Definitely. You had a flicker of hope tonight, which pisses me off. He didn’t even try.”
“Are you basing this all on shoes?”
Kane ignored her surprised tone and pushed. “Shoes are important. They show your mood or mental state. Kitten heels and bows are about flirt and hope. I hate that you wasted any effort on him.”
Shock crossed her face before she managed to gain back control. “I didn’t realize you noticed my shoe fetish.”
