Page 172 of Rush

Chapter 21

Slow Hands

The air bites at my nose, crisp and clean in that way only autumn in New York can manage. Central Park has thinned out—just joggers in thermals and tourists pretending it’s not too cold to enjoy it. Leaves crunching under our boots as Riley loops her arm through mine, her coffee steaming like a tiny chimney between sips.

“It feels good to spend some time with you,” she says, tilting her face toward the sun like she’s posing for a photoshoot. “What’s Ava actually like? Is she really dating that football guy? Does her skin look airbrushed in real life, or is that just her filter?”

I snort. “She’s fine. Normal. Loves to party, kind of intense but super nice. Her skin does glow like she bathes in the blood of virgins, though.”

“At least you’re safe now,” Riley mutters. “You’ve been well and truly devirginized.”

We break out in hysterical laughter, the kind that makes your belly ache.

Behind us, I catch Luca watching Riley—eyes narrowed, as if she’s a walking question he hasn’t figured out yet. He doesn’teven flinch when she glances over her shoulder and sticks her tongue out at him.

We cut down toward the pond, the wind chasing us along the path. The water ripples with ducks, too stubborn to migrate, clustered in tight packs like they’re gossiping.

“Can we sit?” Riley asks, already flopping onto a cold bench. “My toes are colder than a witch’s tit.”

I sit beside her, still grinning, breath fogging in front of me in short bursts.

“Are you ready to talk to me about…” I jerk my head toward Luca, who’s standing staring away from us—no doubt keeping an eye out for any threats.

“What’s there to say?” she sighs, all dramatic deflation, like someone just told her the bar ran out of tequila.

“I take it the hostile takeover didn’t go to plan.”

“No,” she mutters, pouting now. “He gave me some speech abouttaking this—” she gestures between me and him “— seriously.”

“Babe.”

“I know.” She slumps against me like I’m furniture. “I didn’t even go full throttle. I was keeping it light. Flirty. Friendly. He just shot me down.”

I snort. Riley rarely hearsnofrom men. She’s confident, magnetic, and has the kind of boldness that makes men trip over themselves for a chance with her. Luca’s rejection must’ve hit hard.

“Oh well,” she says, flicking her hair back like she’s brushing it off. “Plenty more blokes in the paddock.”

“You make it sound like you’re herding cattle.”

“Well, if the boot fits.”

We giggle and settle into each other.

“Worst comes to worst, I’ll just marry you.”

I scoff, throwing my head back. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all week.”

Though my mind goes back to Vegas with Broderick.

We sit in silence, staring out at the pond as it shimmers under the low sun, all glitter and gold. For once, I’m not backstage, mic’d up, or racing to the next interview. It’s quiet. Still.

My phone rings cutting through the serenity.

Mark.

I don’t move right away—just stare at the screen, the chill slipping beneath my coat collar and down my spine.

Riley leans in. “You okay?”