Page 36 of Ride or Die

He’d earn it. The trust.

Saint would be patient.

Chapter 9

Riley

The TV murmured and laughed in the background while Riley sipped cheap wine and bounced her foot. Kristi was working far too late—it was almost nine on a Tuesday night—and not responding to Riley’s inane commentary on the most recent season of whatever love experiment was on TV. Kristi was probably almost done punishing her for forgetting movie night, but she wasn’t going to think too hard about it—or her day at work. Hence the wine. Overthinker? Don’t know her.

Riley: Whatcha doing?

She hit send, and her foot bounced faster. She wasn’t left in suspense for very long. He always responded quickly.

Saint: In your neighbourhood actually, want me to stop by? I have Twizzlers.

She laughed out loud in her quiet, empty apartment and took a sip from the mug of wine before texting back.

Riley: Chocolate or nothing.

Riley: Is this a booty call?

Tension wound in her chest, and she set the wine down. The contestant on TV cried when she saw the person she had to go on an all-expenses-paid vacation with.

Can’t relate.

Saint: You texted me. Do you want it to be?

She sucked in a breath. The wine demanded yes, but she wasn’t sure that counted.

Riley: Come find out?

The phone screen reflected wine-stained lips pulled wide in a silly grin. Saint sent a thumbs up.

Riley stood up and sat down. She chewed on her lip and checked her phone too many times. She drank more wine and stared at the TV without really seeing who got married or rejected at the altar. It was a bizarre show.

Maybe it was some sort of psychological experiment and there would be a big plot twist that they were being studied the whole time. She’d watch that.

A knock on the door jolted her off the couch, and she tugged her clothes straight as she went to the door. The familiar ballcap under a dark hood appeared in the peephole before she pulled the door open.

Safety first.

“Hi!” The smile bubbled out of her as she rocked up on her toes. She grabbed the door handle as the peeling wallpaper in the hallway swayed.

Maybe chill on the wine.

Saint pushed his hood back and scanned the apartment, checking again for secret intruders, over her head.

“You look cozy,” he said.

Riley stared. How did he make jeans and a hoodie look like that?

Her sweatpants might not have the same effect on him, but one could hope.

He leaned a shoulder on the door frame, eyes hooded as he took in her attire. He didn’t seem upset about it, eyes trailing to the floor and back.

“Oh!” She scrambled backwards, out of the doorway. “You can come in, sorry…”

Saint prowled in on silent feet and removed his boots and coat. She took the leather jacket, smelling the cedar and a faint whiff of tobacco before she hung it up.