Actually, it’s Amara’s legacy, I thought wryly, but figured it was best not to speak that aloud. Instead, I simply said, “Owen offered me a job.”
“Doing what?” Chloe asked.
“Managing social media for Lawless, Overtime, and…Birdie’s!” I said, flinging my arms out wide to gesture at the restaurant around us. “Hence why I wanted to treat us all to family dinner here this week. I’m technically on the clock.”
I met Owen’s gaze and couldn’t help shooting him a wink.
His eyes held mine as he said, “If you think you’re paying, you’re sadly mistaken, Whiskey.”
“Ha!” Alfie said, an expression of triumph surely gracing his stupid face, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Owen.
Something was happening here, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Almost as if he was making it his personal mission to…take care of me? But why would he want to do that?
God, I didn’t know anything anymore.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, knowing the words were soft enough that they wouldn’t reach his ears but he could read them plainly on my lips.
“In that case,” my father boomed, “get me your most expensive bottle of CD!”
The table broke out in laughter, and the corner of Owen’s mouth ticked up.
“I’ll let the waitstaff know,” he said, eyes still not leaving mine.
“Why don’t you join us?” my mother offered. “We’d love to hear how the distillery is coming, and Delia doesn’t tell usanything.”
My face heated. “I would if I ever saw you.”
“Exactly,” my dad said, leveling me with that intense, pine green stare. “Have you forgotten where we live?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I’ve just been busy.”
My dad faced Owen again. “Stop monopolizing my daughter, Lawless.”
Owen chuckled. “Apologies, sir.”
Then, seeming to accept my mother’s invitation, Owen moved around the table and pulled a chair from one nearby, stopping between me and Alfie. It took a moment for the little shit to recognize the hulking male form bearing down on him, but when he did, he looked up at Owen, eyes wide.
Still, he apparently couldn’t leave well enough alone, because he said, “Can I help you?”
“Move.” That single word in Owen’s deep timbre left no room for argument, and Alfie wisely scooted his chair without another word, nearly scrambling in Ella’s lap, who moved over further to make room for Owen.
I expected him to create some separation between us once he was seated, but he remained where he was, his thick, rock hard thigh pressed against mine. He seemed oblivious to the way my skin heated with his proximity. He could’ve easily intimidated Alfie into moving further down but chose to stay at my side.
What the fuck did that mean? Was it normal to lose my mind over a simple, completely innocent touch from a man?
I knew the answer, I just wasn’t ready to confront it quite yet.
“You’re mean,” I said quietly, ignoring the way my body reacted to him.
“Hardly,” Owen whispered back. “Someone needs to teach that kid a lesson.”
I snorted, delighted that Owen had picked up on Alfie’s horribleness so quickly.
“We’ve been trying to for three years,” I said.
Before I could further enumerate Alfie’s flaws, a group of waiters appeared brandishing several bottles of Chateau Delatou wine, and they moved around the table in a well-choreographed dance, filling glasses quickly.
Owen growled, a low sound of warning, when Alfie attempted to refuse, saying he hated wine and would rather drink tequila.
