“Focus,” Bella says. “Roll the dice.”
Blade doesn’t. “Name.”
Bri hesitates, and that tells me plenty. “Grant. Grant Whitaker.”
Blade’s jaw tightens just a fraction. Switch’s whole posture shifts, shoulders squaring, eyes sharper.
“Whitaker,” Blade says. “I’ve heard of him. He comes from money.”
Switch mutters, “Great.”
Rich and respectable. Exactly her lane. Also exactly the kind of guy who might have reasons that got nothing to do with liking her and everything to do with getting close to us.
Bella crosses her arms. “Can we not start profiling a man none of us have met yet?”
“I ain’t profiling,” Switch says. “I’m thinking.”
Blade nods. “And I don’t like the timing.”
With all the crap going on at the club lately, neither do I. I take a slow pull from my beer. “Where’d he take her?”
Bella hesitates. “Downtown. Some fancy place. He even made reservations.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Switch asks, squinting at his wife like she just spoke another language.
Bri’s eyes go wide as she looks between Bella and Switch, already sensing chaos. Blade, meanwhile, is staring at his phone, thumbs moving fast, probably texting someone to start a background check because of course he is.
Bella crosses her arms and lifts one perfectly shaped brow at her husband. “Why? Feeling insecure? Need to step up your game?”
Switch lets out a slow breath through his nose. “What are you saying, baby? Do I not take good enough care of you?”
She tilts her head sweetly. “I’m just saying… you’ve never once made a reservation in your life.”
Bri bites her lip, barely holding in a laugh.
“That’s not true,” Switch argues. “I made a reservation once.”
Bella’s brow climbs higher. “When?”
He pauses. “I called ahead to the bar and asked if the pool table was open.”
Blade finally looks up. “Romantic as hell, brother.”
I choke on my beer.
Bella points at Blade like he just proved her point. “See? This man is out here wooing women with actual chairs that aren’t bar stools.”
Switch shakes his head. “Unbelievable. Next you’re gonna tell me I gotta start using cloth napkins and knowing what fork is for what.”
Bri grins. “You definitely don’t know what fork is for what.”
“Lies,” he says. “I use whatever one’s closest.”
Bella sighs dramatically. “I married a heathen.”
Switch slides an arm around her waist and tugs her into his side. “You knew what you were getting into.”
Bella rolls her eyes like she’s still annoyed, but the fight drains out of her as she leans into him and kisses him slowly and sure, one hand sliding up his chest like it belongs there. Switch hums into it, hand settling at her lower back.
