A tingle ran down my spine when Patrick’s voice boomed over my shoulder. I smiled when he jabbed his brother’s arm, knocking Sam’s hand from my chair and dragging his fingers between my shoulder blades.
It felt lusciously possessive and I was perfectly fine with a little possession. I sipped my wine, waiting until he pulled a chair between Nick and me to meet his gaze.
“Hi.” His voice was low and eyes sparkling with an uncharacteristically warm twinkle. Such a wonderful departure from the irritable scowl.
“Hi.” I waited for him to reply, lifting an eyebrow while he stared at me.
“If not the Night Walker juice, what do you drink every day?” Sam asked, oblivious to the silent conversation spoken between Patrick and me. “Or do you only juice occasionally?”
I held Patrick’s gaze another beat before shifting back to Sam and our discussion of pressed juices—another one of my random hobbies. Our conversation soon shifted to several other unconventional interests—part-time vegan eating and power yoga and arguing the fidelity ofThe Lord of the Ringsmovies to the books—and I discovered a mountain of things Sam and I had in common.
Around us, Matt, Lauren, and Nick were pumping Riley for information about the woman he was seeing, while Patrick stayed quiet.
I noticed him nursing a beer and I felt his eyes on me. It wasn’t enough for Patrick to spend the majority of his time staring at me as if he were inspecting every thought in my head—he stared with an intensity I expected to leave singe marks on my skin.
“Try a mix of raw local honey, cinnamon, and apple cider vinegar,” I said. “That always clears up my sore throats. Honey is my go-to.”
“I will,” Sam murmured, sending himself an email with the proportions.
“We need to do this more often,” Shannon said while Matt stood to help Lauren into her coat. “It’s like I never see you people unless it’s Monday morning.”
“That might not be a bad thing,” Riley muttered under his breath.
“We’re headed out for sushi, and we’re heavy one Texan so a few more won’t hurt if anyone wants to come along.” Matt glanced around the table.
Sam and Riley joined the sushi group, and Tom departed after I declined his offer of more drinks elsewhere. Following a round of goodbyes, I was left with Shannon and Patrick. She slid down the bench to sit across from me, and Patrick angled his seat between us before glowering at his sister.
“You love Oishii.”
“I do,” she admitted, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “But I saw Mackay and Brewster from the Planning Board walk in and I owe them a drink. Or nine. And I went out with the general manager at Oishii and…” She held up her hands and shrugged.
“You’re racking up a long list of spots where you’repersona non grata,” he said.
Under the table, his knee brushed against my thigh and my skin reacted with a series of tiny sizzling shivers. I liked him pressing against me. I shifted my leg to slide against his knee in encouragement, and concealed my smile with a sip of wine when he cleared his throat.
From the sound of it, he liked me pressing against him, too.
“You’re going to have to move to Vermont soon. Start corrupting the shepherds.”
“Fuck you.” Draining her beer, she narrowed her eyes at Patrick. “Did you get out to Wellesley?”
Patrick turned his head toward me and rolled his eyes, his knee pressing more firmly against my thigh. I shifted, the spiked heel of my boot rasping against his jean-clad leg. His muscles tensed under my touch when the leather passed over his shin and around his ankle.
“No, Shannon, not this week.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I spent the day knee-deep in literally freezing water.” He consulted his phone before slipping it into his pocket and dropping his hand to his leg. Pointing at Shannon with his beer bottle, he continued, “I’ll get to Wellesley when I get a chance.”
“If you don’t have time, you shouldn’t have volunteered.” She glanced to me. “Andy, make sure he gets to the Wellesley site next week. It requires Patrick’s immediate attention.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“And what if the pipes burst there?” she demanded.
“Then we tear that motherfucker down like we should have in the first place.”
Under the table, his palm covered my knee and my decision to wear pants instead of a skirt turned into a serious regret—living out fantasies trumped frostbite any day of the week. I nibbled the inside of my cheek to keep my expression mild while his hand warmed me through the denim and his thumb brushed across my thigh.
