I stand, grabbing the back of her chair and pulling it out for her. Curiosity prickles my skin as her hair dusts against my arm.What is she up to?I step to the side to take my seat when she grabs my wrist.
My gaze falls to hers, and I’m unable to look away. She holds it tight as she pries my fingers open one by one. Then a piece of fabric is pressed into my palm.
“What’s this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
Slowly, with a grin hot enough to scald the sun, she reverses order, closing my fist into a ball around the fabric.
“I wanted to give you a token of appreciation.” She licks her lips. “Since you can’t take these off me, I did it for you.”
You little fucking minx.
I bite back a growl rumbling at the base of my throat, and fight the urge to bring her panties to my nose and breathe them in. My cock throbs so hard that I’m not sure I can sit. But I playit off as best as I can, shoving the damp lace into my pocket and lowering myself into my chair.
In no way did I suggest that I wanted a sexless relationship, and she knows it. This isn’t a token of appreciation. It’s defiance wrapped in consent. But if that’s how she wants to play this, so be it.
Raffi reappears with our iced teas. “Here you are. Have you had a moment to look at the menu?”
Gianna smiles up at Raffi. “I don’t need to look. What do you suggest?”
“Oh, I love it when customers ask me this,” she says, laughing. “Well, we have steaks, roast chicken, and sustainably caught fish. But my favorite is the burger. The Fernie, to be specific. Thick patty with lettuce, tomato, onion, and a little mayo. It’s a little basic, I know, but sometimes you can’t beat a classic.”
“I’ll have that,” Gianna says. “Does it come with fries?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Great.”
“What about you, sir?” Raffi asks.
I slide the menus to the edge of the table. “Let’s keep it easy and make it two.”
“Awesome. I’ll get that in. In the meantime, you’re welcome to start your fireplace if you’d like. Just flip this button,” she says, pointing at a red switch. “Open the valve right theregentlyand then press the igniter.”
“Thanks, Raffi,” I say.
She nods. “It’s my pleasure.”
“Have I ever told you that I love fire?” Gianna asks, turning on the fireplace. “In high school, I collected lighters. My mother found them eventually and told my dad who was convinced I was doing heroine or something, and all hell broke loose.” She opensthe valve … a little too wide. “It was a bad couple of weeks for me after that.”
“Hey, that valve is a little—shit!” A whoosh roars from the center of the table as soon as Gianna pushes the igniter. Flames shoot to the sky in all their blue and orange glory, sending waves of heat in all directions. “Turn the valve down.”
Her giggle is all I can make out on the other side of the blaze.
I lean to the side, the heat frying my face, and lower the intensity. “Is this your way of telling me you’re a pyromaniac?”
“I swear,” she says, still in a fit of giggles. “I did not mean to do that. You should’ve warned me.”
“Raffi saidgently. You just flung that thing open like you knew what you were doing. I was letting you have it.” I can’t help but laugh, too. That giggle is infectious. “I’ll always take your side, but I can kind of see your dad’s point with the lighters.”
She taps a napkin beneath her eyes. “He probably was right in retrospect. I was a little wild as a child, and having lighters was probably—definitely—a bad idea.”
“You’re like my sister Evie. She could burn a place down with an ice cube. The last thing she needs is a match.”
“How many sisters do you have?” she asks.
“Two. Elodie and Evie. Evie, by the way, is a big Gianna fan.”
“Oh, I love her. She’s my favorite sister of yours.”
