Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 1)

“Is she?” Nate’s eyes narrowed. “Her and I go way back. Maybe we can have a drink and catch up.”

“You’re not here with someone?” she asked, not sure what she wanted his answer to be. Why did he have to be so hot? Weren’t women supposed to see their exes and be glad they’d split up?

He shook his head. “No, I don’t have a play partner for tonight. I run the beginner rope classes.” He held up the rope in his hand.

“Oh,” was all she could manage. Brilliant, Riley.

Jack gave her a little push. “She loves Mojitos and she’d love to have a chat.”

She scowled at Jack.

Nate chuckled. “I have some very interest

ing memories about you and Mojiitos.”

“Sounds fun.” Jack waggled his brows at her. “I’ll catch up with you later.” In her ear he whispered, “He’s hot. Don’t fuck it up.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed him away. Nate ushered her to an empty booth in a dark corner. Her knees suddenly felt shaky. So he taught rope classes. That meant he was experienced.

Could her lovable high school sweetheart really be a dominant? How weird was that? Sure, he’d changed, grew up, filled out, but a dom? Seven years ago, she’d never guessed he had it in him. And she’d know. She’d tried so hard to trigger it.

She gazed at him with a silly smile at first, unsure of where to begin. Finally, he broke the growing tension.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back,” he said. “Are you just visiting?”

“No. I’m here for a while.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “What brought you back?”

My inability to find the right guy? My failed attempt at a career as a concert pianist?

“My mom,” she answered, which was partially the truth.

“How is she? I haven’t seen her around.”

Riley frowned. “She’s struggling. She has Parkinson’s and it took a turn.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I moved back in with her to help out around the house and do her grocery shopping and stuff, just until we get services set up.” He watched her with an enigmatic expression she found hard to read. “What about you? Are you working in the city?”

“Yeah. I’m a mechanic.”

She nodded. “Not surprised. Didn’t you hate every subject in high school except shop?”

He chuckled. “Something like that. What are you doing for work?”

Sore subject. “Substituting at the high school for now. And giving piano lessons on the side.”

“I have to admit,” he said, looking suddenly sheepish, “I kind of stalked you when you finished Julliard. I looked for your name in concert halls and stuff. I half-expected you to be touring the world with some big symphony.”

She grimaced but then shrugged and smiled slightly. “Yeah. Turns out it’s hard to get jobs as a concert pianist. Who knew?” She chuckled humorlessly.

It was silent a moment then he said, “You’re good, Riley. Don’t give up on what you want to do. I still listen to your CDs from high school.”

“You do not!”

“I do. You were always gifted. The CDs the school put out to raise money for the music program are beautiful, even if their recording studio sucked.”