Page 30 of Riot

He squeezed my leg right above my knee. My body lit up like a live wire. That was the real addiction I craved.

“I’m the wrong person to steer you away from what you crave. I’ll only feed your habit.” He lifted the fork, and I didn’t hesitate this time.

“Feed my addiction, you savage,” I groaned. “Feed it until the bowls are empty. More. Give me more.” I was honestly blown away by how good it was. No lie, I could have licked the bowl clean and still wanted more.

This time he handed me a container and kept the other, and we ate side by side on the wall as traffic rolled past us.

I bit into the empanada, and my life was forever changed by a flaky crust and the hot meat filling, seasoned to perfection. This man had officially ruined me, and I had no regrets.

“Where did you get these?” I couldn’t stop eating it. Some of the meat spilled, luckily into my bowl. I didn’t want to waste any of it.

Riot took a drink of his soda. “Know a place.”

“That is deeply unhelpful.” I ate a forkful of rice, chewed, then swallowed. “Can’t get my fix if I don’t know the location.”

“I’ll give you a hint.”

“You’re being very suspicious.”

Riot jerked his chin toward my container. “The bowl. Look closely at it.”

I couldn’t stop eating long enough to lift mine, so I stared at his instead. Your typical plastic storage bowl. Though these were a bit thicker, with green, durable lids.

My mom had a similar kind, though hers weren’t this sturdy.

“These containers didn’t come from a restaurant.” I glanced up at him. “These came from someone’s kitchen.” I licked my fingers, wishing I had another empanada. “Yours?”

Riot winked.

“You actually made this?” I peeked into his bowl, but it was now as empty as mine. The guy was good-looking and could cook?

“Man of many talents.” Riot set aside his bowl, running his tongue through the inside of his mouth. “I could teach you how to make them, if you want.”

“I’ll try but don’t get pissed if I screw it up.” My stomach was full, and I was ready to get out of there. I’d worked my scheduled eight hours, plus four more. So much for finding someone to cover Beth’s shift. I should’ve known Carla wouldn’t be able to. We were her only three employees.

“Making mistakes is part of learning.” Riot brushed the back of his fingers down my arm.

“Honestly, I thought you were no longer interested.” I took a drink of my soda. Grape. My favorite flavor, and it was still cold. “Your text was very ‘fare thee well.’”

“What?” Riot chuckled. He turned slightly sideways, one arm resting along the wall behind me. “You already had to work late. I was letting you know it was fine without disturbing you.”

He had too many positive attributes. Yesterday, at the cookout, Riot had been nothing but kind and attentive, while I’d been nothing short of a mess on the inside. Today, he’d shown up at my job, knowing I was stuck here, and even cooked me dinner. He’d taken the time to cook for me. And not something simple. A lot of work had to have gone into this meal.

No man was this perfect, even if I wanted it to be true. I was already hanging on by a thread where Riot was concerned. If I found out this wasn’t who he really was, it just might break me.

“You’re a little too good to be true,” I said carefully. “I don’t trust it, Riot. What’s your motive?”

It wasn’t a joke or teasing. Men like Riot didn’t just fall out if the sky. Not even his biker status detracted from who he was, or who he was pretending to be.

“I’m far from angelic.” Riot stretched his arms over his head. My gaze slid to the patch of skin revealed when his shirt lifted. “I don’t have a motive, Calvin. Just want what everyone else wants.”

“Which is?”

“Connection. Someone who makes you light up like the moon, who makes you feel seen. Companionship. A ride-or-die partner.” He tapped his foot against mine. “Too fast, too much?”

I gave it some thought. Riot didn’t rush for an answer. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, a serene expression on his face.

The sun was still shining but fading, dusk creeping in. I studied his profile, thought about how he made me feel, and compared it to how my parents had been with each other.