“Everyone’s trees were perfect,” Isla says. She’s a teacher. She probably feels like she has to say that because she’s used to telling her students that anything they create is a masterpiece.
Blair, who has studiously avoided looking my way since the ladies made it to our table and squeezed in around the booth, snorts. Her stunning brown eyes widen, then all the women are cackling.
How much did they drink?
“What?” Griffin asks, his attention pinging between Blair and Mira.
“Nothing,” Mira manages to wheeze out. “Isla’s totally not lying. Everyone did so good. No one painted a tree that looked like a drunken stick figure with a few extra arms.”
Blair’s golden-brown skin warms and her shoulders shake. I want to look away, but I’m mesmerized. She may be a conniving little liar, but she’s beautiful. There’s no way around it. Which is really fucking inconvenient, because I don’t want to think she’s beautiful. I don’t want my cock to stir in my pants for the first time in weeks because of her.
Shit.
“And who exactly painted the drunk stick figure tree?” Griffin asks, even though that’s pretty obvious, based on the way the girls all keep glancing at Blair and giggling.
Blair lets her head fall back against the bench seat, a deep sigh falling from her pretty lips. “In my defense, I told you all I can’t paint, even when I’m sober. And who was the sadist whodecided trees were the perfect subject matter for a bunch of drunk people? Trees are hard, okay?”
“You would know all about how hard wood is, wouldn’t you?” Lexi says conspiratorially.
There’s a brief moment of silence as the guys and I share an incredulous look, then the women burst out in loud laughter. Blair’s cheeks warm further. It draws every eye our way, and I don’t miss the lingering looks of appreciation Blair garners. My spine stiffens, and I want to tell them to fuck off.
Wait, what?Get your shit together, Logan. It doesn’t matter who looks at Blair. She’s not yours, and you don’t even like her.
“Did you get to keep the paintings?” Ryder asks.
“They’re in the back of my SUV,” Maddox replies, trying to hide a smile. Clearly, he agrees with his sister’s assessment of Blair’s painting.
“I need to see them.” Griffin wraps an arm around his wife. “We’ll hang yours in the living room, sunshine.”
“Oh, trust me, you won’t want to do that.” She cringes, and I can’t help it. I chuckle. “It’s… It’s not great.”
“Why don’t we order some food for the ladies,” Bash suggests, waving our server over. “You don’t want to wake up with a wine headache tomorrow morning.”
“You’re so thoughtful, Bash.” Isla grins at him. “You are going to make some lucky woman very happy one day.”
I feel myself frowning because no one has ever said something like that to me. Which is usually how I prefer things. My attention turns to Blair, who smiles softly at Bash.
Does she want to be the one he makes happy?
Why the fuck does that thought make me want to punch a hole through the wall?
I’m stewing in my annoyance and confusion as Bash orders a few different appetizers for the women to share, my frown deepening when I happen to look up and meet Blair’s eyes. Sheflinches when she sees my stormy expression and immediately looks away.
Goddamn it. I want her to stay away from me, but I don’t want the woman to be afraid of me.
Then maybe you should stop acting like a giant asshole,my inner voice admonishes. It sounds suspiciously like Bash. Of course, he’d be my internal voice of reason.
Groaning, I rub a hand over my face, trying to school it into a less pissed-off expression. Then I clear my throat and direct a question to Blair.
“Did you have fun tonight?”
She startles a little when she realizes I’m speaking to her. Her attention pings between me and the people sitting around her before she points at herself. “Me?”
Jesus. Have I been that bad that she looks shocked I’m speaking to her?
I nod. “I’m sure wine and painting isn’t quite the nightlife you’re used to in LA, but it sounds fun.”
“Considering my idea of nightlife is curling up under a blanket and watching Netflix, yeah, I had fun.” Her cheeks flush again, and she looks down at the table like she hadn’t meant to say that.
