She hands us off to the hostess, who shows us to a booth near the back. Harvest and Dev slide in on one side and Brie hesitates for just a second before moving to sit across from them. She trips over her feet, not for the first time tonight, and ends up on all fours on the bench.
I have to stuff my hands in my pockets to keep them to myself while she awkwardly makes her way into a seated position.
When I slide in, her scent wafts over me. Pear and citrus andBrie.
My pants grow tight, and I make the mistake of looking down at her.Holy hellthe red shirt she’s wearing is a godsend from this angle.
Stop acting like a teenager.
“Why did that woman call you the Prince of Blue Ridge?” Harvest asks, but I barely hear her.
My entire focus is on Brie. I’m fully hard now and burning up. I pull off one sleeve of my jacket, leaning toward her as I do. I make the critical mistake of inhaling deeply. I quickly tug off the other sleeve and drape the jacket over my lap.
“Sawyer comes from a long line of mayors,” Dev explains.
“Wow,soimpressive,” Harvest says, but my eyes are on Brie, who rolls her eyes infinitesimally, and somehowthat’s hot, too.
Our waiter, a high school kid I recognize, comes by to fill water glasses. I drain it as he tells us the specials and asks for our drink orders.
“I’ll have a Peroni,” Dev says when no one chimes in.
Harvest smiles, “Same.”
Dev smiles across at us. “Should we get a pitcher?”
Brie’s eyes dart between them across the table and the menu in her hands.
This is so familiar, I know exactly what she’s thinking. She has no interest in a cold pint right now. For such an old friend, Dev does a shit job reading her.
Throwing my arm across the back of the booth, I look up at our waiter, “Two glasses of your cheapest red, Doug.”
Brie shoots me a sharp look. “Of course you’d think I like the cheap stuff.”
I look at her, stunned. “I can’t tell the difference, that’s why I ordered it.” I look at Doug. “Two glasses of your most expensive red, please.”
Glaring at me, she tells Doug, “Bring the cheap stuff, and keep it coming.”
He nods and leaves.
As Harvest says something quietly to Dev, Brie turns to me. Instinctively, I lean to meet her.
“I can order for myself,” she mutters.
“And you did. Turns out we have the same taste.” I wink.
She shuts her eyes like she’s counting to ten and licks her lips.That mouth. It starred in so many of my teenage fantasies. Her eyes flit across the table, like she doesn’t want to bring down the mood for Dev.
“I mean,” she says, voice so low I have to move closer to hear, “I can answer for myself.”
“Like how you answered for yourself at Ravi Engel’sbirthday party?” It’s meant to be a gentle tease, but her expression turns scornful.
“I was twelve.” Her chest heaves as she stares up at me, eyes flashing.
I bite back a smile as I stare right back. This verbal sparring is the hottest foreplay I’ve had in a while.
“So, uh, how’s work been?”
Dev’s question has us blinking across the table. His arm is around Harvest’s shoulders, which somehow makes his voice less annoying than usual.
