Beside me, Wyatt stiffened at the shock in his friend’s voice. “What can I say? I’m charming.”
His playful tone didn’t jibe with his body. I was about to ask when I glanced across the table and clocked the way Chessly seemed to be vibrating like a pissed-off hedgehog, her narrowed eyes dialed in on Finn, which was weird. She’d seemed cool with him when she introduced Saylor and me at the Union at few weeks back.
When Finn caught sight of her, the beer glasses in his hand clinked together, and he set them on the table in a hurry. Clearing his throat, he said, “Hey, Chessly. I haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“That surprises you why, again? You know, considering who you like to hang out with.” The corner of her jaw worked—a sure tell she was holding back.
He blinked as though she’d slapped him. Carefully picking up the glasses again, he turned his attention back to Wyatt. “Got a glass for you whenever you decide to join us.” Nodding his head at Saylor and me, he said, “Ladies,” and stepped over to the next booth where loud cheering greeted the arrival of beer.
A server hustled in behind him with two more pitchers, adding them to Finn’s offering at the players’ table. Before he could move off, Wyatt signaled him over to our table. “We’re going to need another pitcher of what the ladies are drinking this evening and a family-size pie.” Gazing around the table, he asked, “What’s your preference?”
The three of us exchanged glances, then our eyes simultaneously dropped to the table and our now nearly empty tray of appetizers. When I snagged Wyatt’s gaze, he winked and nabbed the last mozzarella stick. I blinked at his shameless commandeering of what was our usual meal, and he grinned.
Saylor broke our silent stalemate. “We’ll have another plate of appetizers and a half supreme—no olives—and half chicken and artichoke pizza.” She grinned at Wyatt. “No doubt you’re going to eat most of it, but we’re at least going to have what we like.”
“I like every pie on Stromboli’s menu, so I’m good.” Returning his attention to the server, he said, “Put this table on my account.”
As the server hustled off toward the kitchen to put our order in, the three of us talked over each other.
“You don’t need to buy our dinner.”
“We’re good. We got this.”
“That’s nice of you, but we can take care of it.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. This is our place,” he said with a nod to the booth behind ours. “The owner gives us a discount since we bring the crowds in with us.” A naughty grin tilted the corner of his mouth. “Now then, before we were interrupted, you two were about to give me the deets on how to woo Piper’s number out of her.” He scooted a little closer so his side was flush against my arm. The delicious clean scent of the ocean and something citrusy he used when he showered wafted over me, and it was all I could do not to lean in and sniff him.
I wanted to luxuriate in the heat radiating off him, which blew my mind because, honestly, how could he be so hot when he was only wearing a short-sleeve T-shirt? His heat drew me purely because I was still chilled from the game, not because he radiated sexy even more than he radiated warmth.
Absolutely not.
Mischief danced in Saylor’s eyes, the traitor. “From what I can tell, you’ve been on the right track since the two of you met.”
“Yeah?” He slid me a side-eye. “Then why do I still not have her number?”
“Maybe you should ask for it when you have her on the edge.” Saylor waggled her brows in a caricature of seduction that normally would have cracked me right up, except I feared what would come out of her mouth next. “Don’t let her get her shout on until she gives up her number.” An impish grin twisted her lips. “Of course, you’ll have to try to remember it during the moment. You”—she coughed into her hand—“upfor that?” Adding more awkwardness to her nonsense, she dragged out the word “up” in a way that made Wyatt shift even closer to me.
“Saylor! What the hell?”
She high-fived Chess, the two of them laughing themselves silly.
I was all but squished into the corner of the booth with 250 pounds of hot man plastered along my side and nowhere to go but under the table. When Wyatt gave my shoulder a discreet squeeze, I seriously considered that option. It was one thing to have a couple of casual hookups with the guy. It was something else to have him sitting down to a meal with my friends and me with my friends acting like we were a couple or something.
Not that Wyatt seemed to mind.
“I’m always up for that.” He choked on a laugh.
So freakin’ awkward.
The server dropped off another pitcher of the lager my friends were drinking and asked if I wanted another lemon drop.
“Yes, please,” came out in a rush that only amplified how uncomfortable, confused, and wildly turned-on I was.
Because, yes, having Wyatt Baxter touch me from shoulders to knees sent tingles swarming over my skin to collect in the apex of my thighs. The tiny circles he traced with his fingers over my shoulder perked my nipples up into sensitive points that rubbed against the inside of my bra whenever I tried to shift closer to him or give myself more space—I couldn’t decide which I wanted more.
“So, Wyatt, where’s the party tonight?” Saylor asked.
Chessly’s face clouded over.
