Dex, the traitor and chaos goblin extraordinaire, blocks me with his arm.
“Nope. Assigned seating. Lovers’ quarrel section is right here.”
“I’m not...”
But Dex physically maneuvers me into the seat next to Bryce before I can finish.
I consider stabbing him with a butter knife.
Bryce settles next to me, smug and relaxed.
“Comfortable?” he murmurs.
“I will tase you if necessary.”
“Careful," he murmurs. "You're starting to sound like you may be flirting with me.”
"You wish, Blackhorn."
Nachos arrive. Wings arrive. Something involving barbecue sauce arrives and Dex immediately looks like he wants to marry it.
Conversation explodes around the table.
Colby raises his glass.
“To Bryce, our walking PR hurricane. May he trend for positive reasons one day.”
Everyone cheers.
Bryce shrugs. “Unlikely, but I appreciate the optimism.”
Janie grins at me. “Annabelle, blink twice if you're being held hostage by his charm.”
“I’m immune to whatever that is,” I reply.
Harper sips her margarita. “Sweetheart, no one is immune to that.”
Bryce nods his head, genuinely intrigued.
“You think I’m charming?”
“Oh no,” I say, horrified, “absolutely not. I think you’re…”
“Pretty?” Dex supplies.
“Unavoidable?” Mia suggests.
“A professional hazard?” Colby adds.
“Yes,” I say. “That one.”
Bryce just watches me… steady, unreadable, and definitely amused.
It bothers me how calm he looks compared to the storm brewing in my chest.
The table gets louder, debating ranch vs. blue cheese with the passion of a Supreme Court hearing.
I focus on my drink.
