After a few more minutes of sipping wine and smiling through a story Mr. McNeal is telling, I quietly excuse myself to use the ladies’ room. As soon as I step inside, I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
The lighting in here is soft and warm, and I catch my reflection in the mirror as I head to the sink. My long-sleeved dress hugs me just right, and the soft waves in my hair miraculously haven’t completely fallen flat. I smooth my hands over my hips, trying not to overthink the way Esteban looked at me earlier when I twirled for him at the door.
It’s pretend.
Just pretend.
I reach for a paper towel when my phone buzzes inside my clutch. I frown, pulling it out and unlocking the screen.
Brandon: I miss you. Can we please talk?
Why does he keep insisting? Doesn’t he get my silence? I stare at the words for a second, my thumb hovering over the screen.
We said everything that needed to be said. He made his choice. I blink away the sudden heat in my eyes and lock the phone again. No reply. Straightening my shoulders, I tuck the phone back in my clutch and take one last look at my reflection.
Then I turn around and walk out, ready to sit beside Esteban again and torture myself with dirty fantasies that will never become reality.
On my way back to the table, I feel it before I see it—Esteban’s eyes on me. Like a slow, deliberate pull that zips through my skin and settles low in my stomach. And when I glance up, yep, there it is. That look. The one that makes me feel like I’m the only thing in the room worth watching.
Tingles race down my spine like a warning and a promise all at once.
When I slide back into my seat beside him, he leans in, voice low and playful near my ear. “I missed you while you were gone. Your brother hasn’t stopped looking at me like he wants to murder me.”
I bite back a laugh and shift slightly so I can peek past him. Sure enough, Noah’s eyes are locked on us, his jaw tight.
I turn back to Esteban, narrowing my eyes like I’m onto him. “Are you doing all of this on purpose?”
“Of course I am.” His chuckle is smug and entirely too sexy. “I love to see him squirm.”
Then his fingers gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and I swear my soul almost leaves my body. His hand lingers for half a second too long, warm against my cheek, and I forget how to breathe.
He’s so close. Too close. His green eyes gleam under the restaurant lighting, looking somehow darker and brighter all at once. And the way he’s watching me, like I’m a secret he can’t wait to unwrap, makes it almost impossible to keep pretending this is just for show.
My heart is beating so fast I’m afraid everyone at thetable can hear it. And I can’t tell if I want to kiss him, slap him, or drag him into the nearest closet.
Get it together, Eva. He just said that he is doing this to fuck with Noah. He is pretending. Nothing else. Because this is fake. This is acting. This is you, being professional and helpful and completely screwed.
Dinner eventually winds down, the plates cleared, the wine poured one last time. Conversation stayed smooth after that, thank God, and Esteban had remained close, his hand brushing mine here and there, his eyes lighting up every time I said something even remotely funny. The McNeals laughed easily, especially when Esteban told a story about how we “accidentally” ended up at a salsa class on our first date. He’s dangerously good at this. At fakingus.
And maybe that should scare me more than it does.
By the time we say our goodbyes outside the restaurant, Mr. McNeal shakes all our hands and leans toward Esteban and Noah with a grin. “We’ll be in touch very soon. Great dinner.”
Mrs. McNeal gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “And Iexpectan invite to that Puerto Rico beach wedding.”
I laugh, trying not to look at Noah’s face.
They walk off toward their car, and the second they’re out of earshot, Noah pounces.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
His voice is low and sharp, but I feel the way Esteban stiffens beside me. He turns slowly, hands casually tucked into his pockets, completely unfazed. “I’m sorry,whatexactly did I do?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.” Noah steps closer. “The way you touched her? Whispering in her ear like that? You kissed her cheek.”
Josy steps between them, holding up a hand. “Noah, seriously? He didn’t do anything wrong. They were acting. And they did a wonderful job.”
I step in before this explodes. “Noah,” I say, my tone clipped, “you knew this was going to happen. What exactly is your problem with Esteban? I thought he was yourbest friend. Your business partner.”
