Everyone toasted, and the server approached.
“Are you ready to place your orders?”
“Thank you,” Patrick murmured in my ear while his parents talked to the server. “Everything’s been perfect because of you.”
“My pleasure.”
Lori went first and ordered the onion soup and filet, and Don chose mussels for an appetizer and theentrecôte. Patrick was next.
“I’ll do the onion soup as well, and Fallon and I are gonna share the Chateaubriand.”
I blinked. “We are?”
Those penetrating eyes met mine. “You said you always wanted to try it. And so do I.”
I licked my lips. “Uh, okay. Sure. That would be great. Thanks.”
“And bring us some sides too—fries, mac and cheese, and green beans.”
I grabbed my water glass and gulped down the cold liquid, but it did little to quench the fire burning me up. The table was large enough to accommodate the four of us easily, but Patrick was so big, his thick thigh pressed up against mine, and it was as if his bare skin seared me through the wool of his pants. This night might prove to be the death of me.
“Fallon, tell us something about yourself. Patrick hasn’t told us much, except what an incredible worker you are.” Lori smiled at me, and my heart sank.
I had no desire to talk about myself, but I could hardly refuse, so I decided to keep it superficial.
“I’m a New Yorker, born and bred—I actually grew up not far from here. I went to school out West and then decided to comehome and work for Devlin Summers as his personal assistant. I’ve known him almost my whole life.”
“How did you two meet? He’s older than you by about five years or so, isn’t he?” Patrick asked. The appetizers came, and I’d hoped that would end the questions, but no such luck. They all waited for me to answer.
“My older brother and Dev were very close friends. I was that annoying tagalong little kid. But they were great to me.”
Lori and Don began to eat, but Patrick cast a confused look in my direction. “I didn’t know you have a brother. Does he live in New York too?”
I couldn’t do this. “No. I-I’m sorry. Will you excuse me for a minute? I’ll be right back.” I escaped to the men’s room, where I stood, head down, arms braced on the sink. My chest hurt as I tried to force air into my lungs.
The door burst open. “Fallon, what’s wrong?” Patrick loomed over me, and I couldn’t answer, only shake my head.
His hand rested on my nape, gently massaging, and after a moment or two I could breathe. “I’m okay. Thanks. You should go to your parents.”
“They’re the ones who insisted I make sure you’re okay, although I had every intention of coming in here anyway.”
“I don’t want to ruin your mom’s birthday.”
“Fuck that, Fallon. You made her birthday,” he snapped, then gentled his tone. “Please talk to me. What’s the matter?”
“It’s nothing. I guess I didn’t eat much today, and the champagne got to my head. I just needed to splash some cold water on my face.” To prove my point, I turned on the faucet and doused my face.
“You’re really a terrible liar, you know? I’m not gonna push you, but I’ll wait here until you’re ready to return to the table.”
“Pain in the ass,” I mumbled.
“Yep.” He grinned, and I knew there was no getting out of it.
I patted my face dry and tossed the paper towel. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
I trailed behind him, doing my best to ignore the curve of Patrick’s ass and the way the fabric clung to those thick thighs. I sat facing Lori and Don and clasped my hands in front of me. “I apologize for leaving the table.”
“There’s no need, please. Are you okay? Did something we said upset you?” Lori’s soft eyes and kind face sent the words tumbling from my mouth.
