Page 42 of Nightmare’s Playground

You see, I prided myself on being a patient woman; I really did. But it seemed I was on the verge of losing my ever-lovin’ mind.

I mean seriously?

What the hell was wrong with the men in this town? Did I look like I wasn’t capable of ordering my own damn food?

Taking another breath, I smiled at Isabella. “Actually,” I said, holding up a finger. “I’m allergic to shellfish. Like, EpiPen-my throat will swell up and I’ll die-allergic.”

Isabella’s eyes were huge, and I detected a hint of fear. Yeah. She definitely didn’t want me to die at her table. Me either.

“So,” I continued. “Can I get the chicken fajitas instead? No beans and extra rice. Also, can I get extra tortillas?” I never ate all my food, and it was nice to have extra tortillas to take home with my leftovers.

Isabella’s eyes flicked to Ben, then back to me. “You got it.”

Ben’s face fell. “Shit. Joy, I’m sorry. I didn’t⁠—”

“You didn’t know.” I shrugged and reached for another chip, reminding myself we were still pretty much strangers. “No harm, no foul.”

“So,” Ben said, settling back in his chair clearly ready to change the subject. “I feel like I should warn you. I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Done what?”

“Date.” He gave a self-deprecating little laugh. “My ex and I were together for four years. Paige. We only split in the spring, so I’m a little rusty.” Then he winced. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about my ex on a first date. That’s like rule number one.”

“It’s fine.” I waved him off. Again, I wasn’t having those romantic feelings, so I wasn’t seeing the harm in him sharing whatever he was comfortable with.

He smiled.

I ate my chip.

Two minutes later we were talking about Murphy, and how he was doing on the Carprofen, which was great, Murph hadn’t gotten sick at all which had been a concern for Ben.

“He’s sleeping better too.”

Ben nodded and said, “Paige had a Great Dane. Same hip stuff that Murphy has going on. We went through all of it.” His eyes flared then closed as he shook his head. “Crap. I’m sorry. I’m really terrible at this.”

I smiled when he finally opened his eyes. “Seriously, You’re fine. Exes are part of our history, right?”

His shoulders relaxed. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Then he started telling me a story about a kayaking trip he’d taken a few months back. I happily dipped my chips in the hot sauce as he rattled on about going up to the Ozarks and then the rental place overcharging him for the cabin. As the story advanced, I put two and two together that it’d been a trip he took with his ex, but I hadn’t minded at all. I even found it funny when he got to the part about dropping his phone into the bottom of the lake and her laughing so hard that she peed her pants. As he told the story, and he told it well, I could hear the love he still felt for Paige, and I wasn’t upset by it at all. Jealous maybe, but not upset.

By the time my fajitas hit the table, sizzling and smelling divine, I felt like I knew Paige almost as well as I knew Ben.

“These look so good,” I said, unrolling my napkin and picking up my fork. I was starving, and I decided then and there that I was going to enjoy my dinner even if the rest of the night was a bust.

“How is yours?”

When Ben didn’t answer, I glanced up.

He was looking over my shoulder at something, and I watched as pure heart-shattering devastation washed over his face. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

His eyes came back to me, and they were so sad it almost knocked me over.

“Paige just walked in.”

Oh. I twisted in my chair and glanced over my shoulder.

She was standing at the hostess stand with a tall guy in a suit—her date, I presumed—and she was a knockout. Long dark hair, legs for days, a little black dress that was doing killer things for her boobs.