“Of course not,” Alice patted my arm. “Now, I believe your presence is required.” She nodded toward where Malphas was looking slightly uncomfortable as Ashley pressed closer to him.
I hesitated, not wanting to appear jealous or possessive. Malphas and I hadn’t defined our relationship—we were roommates who happened to have mind-blowing sex on a regular basis. I had no claim on him.
But then Ashley placed her hand on Malphas’s chest, and something primitive and decidedly unwise flared inside me.
Fuck it.I set down my beer and made my way over.
“There you are,” I said brightly, sliding my arm around Malphas’s waist. “The Wilsons were asking about that marinade you used.”
Malphas looked down at me with visible relief. “Sam, this is Ashley Miller. Ashley, this is Sam, my—”
“Boyfriend,” I supplied, extending my free hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Ashley’s smile dimmed slightly as she shook my hand. “Oh! I didn’t realize Malphas was seeing someone.”
“Recent development,” I said, squeezing Malphas’s waist affectionately. “But it feels like we’ve known each other forever, doesn’t it, babe?”
I felt a tremor run through Malphas at the endearment, but he played along smoothly. “Indeed. Sam’s been living with me for the past month.”
Ashley’s eyes widened. “That’s… fast.”
“When you know, you know,” I said with a shrug. “Anyway, Malphas should probably check on the grill. Those chicken skewers looked about done.”
“Right,” Malphas agreed, extricating himself from Ashley’s proximity. “Excuse me.”
As he stepped away, I made to follow, but Ashley’s hand on my arm stopped me. “So, Sam,” she said, her tone friendly but her eyes assessing, “what do you do?”
What followed was five minutes of the most passive-aggressive conversation I’d ever experienced, during which Ashley managed to convey that: 1) She was pre-law at an Ivy League school, 2) Her father owned half the commercial real estate in town, and 3) She’d known Malphas for years and found it “adorable” that he was finally dating.
“He’s quite… intense, isn’t he?” she said with a knowing smile. “I’ve always found that fascinating about him.”
“He certainly keeps things interesting,” I replied, taking another sip of beer to avoid saying something less polite.
“I bet,” she leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Is he as… passionate in private as he seems in public?”
My eyebrows shot up at the blatant question. “I really don’t think that’s—”
“Ashley!” Roger Miller appeared beside his daughter. “Stop monopolizing Sam here. I’m sure he wants to mingle.” He gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. She’s always had a soft spot for your boyfriend.”
“No problem,” I said, seizing the opportunity to escape. “If you’ll excuse me, I should help with those skewers.”
I found Malphas by the grill, expertly turning chicken skewers while chatting with Dave about lawn sprinkler systems.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said, “but I need to borrow the chef for a second.”
Dave winked knowingly. “Say no more. I’ll keep an eye on the grill.”
I pulled Malphas to a relatively quiet corner of the yard, behind the large oak tree that dominated the landscape.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “You look flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I said, then immediately contradicted myself by blurting out, “Does Ashley Miller always flirt with you like that?”
Malphas blinked, then understanding dawned on his face. “Ah. Yes, she’s been… persistent. I’ve never encouraged it.”
“Well, she’s gorgeous and her dad owns half the town, so—”
My rambling was cut short as Malphas pulled me against him, one large hand cupping my face. “Sam,” he said, his voice a low rumble that I felt in my bones, “are you jealous?”
