Across from him sat Archer in a fitted blue Henley that did sinful things for his shoulders. He swiveled to face me.
“Hey, Penny.” He waved as if it were perfectly normal for my boss to be in my dining room. All rational thought left me.
Aunt Brier called to me from the stove, spoon in hand. She grinned like she had an inside joke to keep to herself.
“Excuse me one second,” I squeaked, bee-lining for her.
“Right on time for dinner.” She stirred the sauce as if this were any weeknight.
“What are they doing here? You should have told me.”
“I’m sure I did. Remember? Westley wanted to fly in for a visit, and I thought it’d be nice for him and Archer to meet. Besides, I haven’t seen Archer in forever.”
“You didnottell me.”
“Really? Well, my mistake, then.” She shrugged, but I wasn’t buying it. “Now hurry and change into something less… dog-hairy, and use my fancy perfume, too.”
I shot her a glare she pretended not to see, and rushed down the hall. I changed quickly into leggings, a teal sweater, and my UGGs. A messy bun would have to do, and then I doused myself in vanilla-scented perfume.
By the time I slid into the empty seat next to Archer, Westley was extolling Las Vegas’ population growth like he was recruiting Brier to move.
Archer’s eyes melted me. “Hi.”
“Hi.” One syllable and I became hyper-aware of the inches between us. I whispered, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea she set this up.”
His mouth quirked. “I thought you knew but didn’t want to say at work. It’s fine. Dinner as friends isn’t fraternizing. Besides, I’d commit corporate espionage for your aunt’s meatballs.”
“He’s got good taste.” Brier beamed, setting down a large bowl of spaghetti and an even bigger bowl of the meat.
Westley lifted his wineglass. “To my Brier Rose and this amazing meal. And to new friends.” We all toasted. I almost choked when they kissed. Again. And again. Archer and I traded an awkward glance that did nothing to cool the room.
Dinner shifted into happy chaos. The men ate as if it were a timed event, with not a meatball left behind. Goldie begged despite having food in her dish. Archer dared give her one meatball despite Brier’s plea to stop.
I thought Westley would pick up the platter and lick the remaining sauce; he was so into it.
He teased Brier about her secret ingredient. “Is it something sweet?” He guessed through a mouthful.
Brier nodded. “A pinch of nutmeg in the meatballs. And anchovy in the sauce.”
Archer groaned. “No kidding? I’m stuffed. I’m embarrassed I went back for thirds.”
“Fourths,” I said. “You added meatballs when I refilled the wine.”
He smirked. “Observant.”
“You can invite me anytime,” Westley declared. “I’ll hop a flight from Vegas for this.”
“Wait till dessert—my special twist on Devil’s Food Cake. You’ll love it.” Brier turned to him for another kiss. Then another. Possibly with tongue. Maybe a hint of a moan. I had never seen Brier this involved with a man.
Archer side-eyed me, his knee brushing mine under the table. Heat flared between us, leaving me aching for something I shouldn’t reach for.
I cleared my throat. “Let me clean up.”
Westley broke away from Brier. “Nope. I insist. Archer, come on. Ladies get a wine break; we’ll do the honors.”
“Nonsense, you’re guests,” Brier began.
Westley tugged her onto his lap with a laugh. “My mother cooked; the men cleaned. I don’t see that changing.”
