Ignoring the obvious warning in my tone—and the death glare!—she climbs out of her chair, quickly stepping around me to speak directly to Max. “It was nice to finally meet you, Max. I’m sorry to leave when you only just got here, but”—she holds up her iPhone—“duty calls.”
A food runner arrives with our plates, setting my smoked mac and cheese down in front of me, and Mo’s fried chicken sandwich down in front of her now-empty chair.
“You should stay, Mo, eat your lunch.”
“Don’t be silly, box it up and take it back for Andy.” Her eyes light up with what will probably be another idea I hate. “Actually, I have a better idea. Max, are you hungry?”
“Positively famished.”
I bite back a growl.
Mo leans in, gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and whispers, “Girl, thosedimples, oh my god.”
Dying a little bit because hehadto have heard that, I swat at my former best friend’s arm, but Mo’s quick. She hurries off before I can strangle her in front of all these witnesses.
Pressing my lips together, I take a deep breath, then meet Max’s amused gaze. His smile widens and I scowl, then focus on my meal, stabbing at the pasta like it’s my best friend’s traitorous face.
Chapter Five
Max
Reaching past Sutton, I retrieve her friend’s plate, setting it down in front of me.
She snorts. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you.”
Sutton glares at me as I shove a few French fries into my mouth, and I’m honestly not sure which version of her I like best. I’ve always been pretty partial to the ball-bustin’ Sutton Hart, the woman who denies her attraction to me, but I was lucky enough to get a glimpse of her at work recently, and goddamn. The passionate side of this woman was something to see. Watching her win over the hearts of not only Emerson Bratt, but both of his parents, was pretty spectacular.
This bratty side of her, though? It’s certainly a fucking treat.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I told you; I had a meeting.” I motion toward the back corner of the restaurant, where I spent the past thirty minutes unable to pay attention to negotiations because as soon as Sutton Hart strode into the restaurant in jeans that might very well have been painted on, I could think of nothing else but getting close to her.
Thank God I have people who accompany me to these things from time to time, because as soon as she walked in, my brain stepped out.
“Something’s been bothering me,” I say after I’ve had a few bites of my chicken sandwich. “About our last meeting.”
Sutton makes a slight scoffing sound in the back of her throat, then finishes chewing her food and swallowing beforeleveling me with an amused gaze. “That’s what the rest of us might call a crisis of conscience.”
I frown. “What?”
Her eyebrows creep slowly upward. “You know, guilt? Regret?” Her eyes flick back and forth between mine before she rolls them and waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Normal feelings for the rest of us humans, but something you might be unfamiliar with.” She steals a fry from my plate and waggles it at me. “There might be a bit of discomfort at first, but you’ll survive.”
“Huh.”
She shrugs as she shoves the fry into her mouth.
“So, what I was going to say,” I continue, leaning back in my seat and draping my arm over the back of her chair, “is that you mentioned something during our meeting with the Bratt family, and I’ve been unable to stop thinking about it.”
Her shoulders rise and fall on a deep breath as she brings her straw to her lips, side-eying me while she sips on her cocktail.
“You mentioned a hot tub full of Playboy bunnies—”
Sutton chokes, pulling the straw from her lips, then she quickly brings her napkin up to cover her mouth as she coughs.
I was right; there is something here. I knew that was too specific a scenario to just be a random suggestion.
