“I’ll take the first bite.”
“Fine, but at least let me bring the wine.”
“Deal,” Olly says, holding out his hand. The moment mine slides into his, I look down. I’ve never been one to hold hands, but this feels like my hand is supposed to be there, so I don’t pull back.
Eventually I expect him to take his hand away, but instead, he threads our fingers together and continues walking.
Again, this doesn’t feel bad.
Interesting.
“So… wine. Are the old ladies here?”
Olly’s eyes go round like saucers. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”
Now, if I didn’t know how gossipy those mother fuckers are, I may take his reluctance as being embarrassed to be seen with me.
“Nonsense. Ms. Brandy has the best wine ever,” I say.
“Ugh, fine. But I’m just warning you, this could end badly.”
We make our way over to their booth.
“Did I tell you I saw them at the club the other night?”
“No,” Olly laughs.
“I shit you not. They had on fucking pajamas and fucking slippers, too.”
He pauses, and I can see all the questions.
I slowly nod my head, and Olly busts out laughing. “Oh, my God. Pictures or it didn’t happen.”
“I’ll do you one better,” I say as we make our way over to the two old ladies who keep this town up to date on gossip.
I let go of his hand and he takes the box I was holding in the other before I place both hands on the table. I don’t like letting go; I find I hate it, but when you’re about to interrogate someone, you need to get in the correct headspace. “Ms. Brandy, Ms. Cook.”
Ms. Brandy turns to me. “Oh, Jasper dear, how are you?” she responds as Ms. Cook raises a brow at me.
“Well, would you look at this Brandy? It’s not only Jasper but also Olly… here… together.”
I ignore them both. “Ms. Brandy, Ms. Cook, could the two of you please confirm your whereabouts four nights ago?”
“Well, you should know, honey. Don’t act like we didn’t see you rubbing all up on a nice beefy gentleman at the club,” says Ms. Brandy.
I sense Olly going stiff next to me. Shit, way to go, ladies!
“He wasn’t niceora gentleman,” I mumble in disgust. “What I was doing isn’t relevant here. Were you or were you not out clubbing in your slippers at one in the morning?”
Ms. Cook puts her hands on her hips and cocks a brow at me. “I don’t see what our choice of footwear has to do with anything.”
I throw my hands up. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just looking for the truth.” This is my revenge for a town’s worth of gossip. “Did you or did you not go to the club in your slippers and pajamas?”
This time it’s Ms. Brandy who pipes up. “Yes, we did, and I wasn’t even wearing a bra.”
Olly and I both shudder.
“Thank you. Knowing all the details wasn’t necessary. Now, what’s the best wine to pair with lobster scampi?”
