“Was who really what?” I ask stupidly, dropping my hand away because touching Phoenix apparently causes some kind of brain malfunction on my part.
“Was Colonel Sanders really a lawyer?” he asks, amused.
“Oh. That. Yes,” I say, gathering my wits. “But he got in trouble after a courtroom brawl with a client.”
Phoenix quirks an eyebrow. “And how do you know this?”
“My sister is a librarian,” I explain. “I spent a lot of summers in the stacks. For some reason, I went through a biography phase when I was about ten.”
“That’s really cool. My mom couldn’t get me to read anything but comics at that age.” He rises, and with my heels on, we’re about the same height.
As we’re walking out the door, my phone rings, and I yank it from my purse, hoping it’s not more bad weather news.
“Oh,” I say, disappointed when I read the text.
“Is something wrong?” Phoenix asks.
I place my phone back in my purse. “It’s from Kam. She’s coming to dinner and bringing Sulley, but Kennedy isn’t feeling well, so she’s not going to make it.”
“Girl, look at you,” Kam exclaims when I approach the table. “You are looking hot as hell.” She stands and takes both my hands, holding them out so she can inspect me.
“Uh, excuse me? Did you look in the mirror before you left home?” Her dress is much like mine, fitted and short, but in a vibrant red color that looks amazing with her dark hair.
“I did. I kinda wanted to spank my own ass in this dress.” She turns and gives me a wiggle of her backside, and I laugh.
I adore her confidence, and it’s somewhat contagious. My former reticence fades away because Idolook good in this tight dress. While it’s certainly nice when men compliment you—or look at you like Phoenix did earlier—there’s something about another woman lifting you up that hits a little differently.
The other woman in the booth stands, and I recognize her immediately. Mega-basketball-superstar, Sulley O’Shea. She’s dressed in a silky plum dress with spaghetti straps and marabou fur trim around the bottom hem, which hits about mid-thigh.
We share an embrace. “It’s so nice to meet you. And congratulations on Rookie of the Year,” I say into her dark hair.
She pulls back and grins at me. “Same. I’m excited to watch you shine this year. I can’t believe there’s finally a major football league for females.”
“Been a long time coming,” I reply as we take our seats with Kam in the middle of the round booth. “I love your dress, Sulley.”
Scrunching her nose, she elbows Kam. “She made me wear it. I’d rather be in sweats.”
“Same,” I answer, and Kam rolls her eyes at us.
“I don’t think either of you are going to die from dressing up for one night.”
“This looks like something one of the women fromReal Housewiveswould wear to bed,” Sulley argues, waving a hand up and down her torso.
Kamryn lifts an eyebrow. “Good. Then you’ll be ready for any bedtime activities you might be planning for tonight.”
My eyes ping pong back and forth, watching their banter. It’s obvious they’re good friends.
A waiter appears, interrupting their wardrobe standoff. “Can I get you ladies something to drink?”
We all order a cocktail, but Kam taps the waiter’s arm before he can leave. “Also, three buttery nipple shots.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Have you eaten here before?” I ask, picking up the menu and looking it over. It contains mostly seafood dishes, though there are a few other selections.
Kam doesn’t even look at the menu. “Yes, I always get the ginger-dill salmon.”
Sulley peruses hers. “I can’t ever decide, but I think I’m getting the shrimp scampi tonight.”
