I hand over Ash’s jacket, pull out my small wallet and apartment keys, and tuck them into my bra, then start changing quickly back into my dress. The emerald-green fabric slides on easily, and I adjust the chest binder over my bra that’s still in place, creating that subtle cleavage.
Nina takes the bag with all of Ash’s belongings, and I feel a weight lift off my shoulders.
“Finally, something exciting is happening in this town. This is better than any reality show,” she says.
She slips out of the bathroom, leaving me alone to catch my breath.
I do a quick check in the mirror. Hair combed and falling in natural waves. Dress straightened. Then I head back toward the table, my heart pounding with each step, and just as I’m almost there, I glance toward the front door.
Nina is there in Ash’s jacket, the door partially open like she’s heading out to meet someone. She catches my eye and waves.
Perfect.
“See you later, Ash!” I call out loudly enough for the entire back section to hear. “Take care of Nina!”
All four heads twist toward the door in perfect synchronization, catching sight of the jacket disappearing outside.
I slide into the seat next to Slater, grinning like this is all completely normal. “Well, there they go. Looks like you might be stuck with me for a while.”
“Where’s Ash going?” Dylan asks, frowning.
“He and Nina hit it off. She wanted to go home but didn’t want to walk alone, so Ash promised to take her safely. Very gentlemanly of him, right?”
“He didn’t mention leaving,” Mason says, and there’s something in his tone. Not quite disapproving, but close.
I shrug, reaching for my water glass. “You know how guys get when they’re interested in someone. Everything else becomes background noise.”
They’re all staring at me with an intensity that sends heat flooding my face and down my neck.
“But of course,” I add quickly, “if you’d rather have your own dinner without me intruding on your plans, I can go?—”
“No.” Slater’s voice cuts through any protest I might have made. Firm. Final. “Stay. We’re ordering more food, and you can eat properly. No more running around.”
“I love the sound of that.”
I settle into the seat, and for the first time all night, I feel like I can actually breathe. Like I’m not constantly two seconds away from my cover being blown.
The server returns, pad in hand, her eyes immediately going to Slater.
He rattles off an order that includes at least six more dishes without even looking at the menu. Clearly a regular.
She writes it down dutifully, but her body language shifts. She leans over the table, past me and closer to Slater, angling herself so her body is facing him fully, shoulders back to emphasize her figure.
“Anything else you want?” she asks, her voice dropping slightly. “We have some really incredible desserts tonight. I could bring you a menu. Maybe we could go over it together?”
Her hand touches his arm, fingers lingering.
Slater doesn’t even glance at her. “We’re good.”
“You sure? There’s this chocolate lava cake that’s absolutely sinful. I could bring you a sample.” She’s not giving up easily.
“Not interested.”
The rejection is so flat, so completely devoid of interest, that I almost feel bad for her. She’s trying so hard, and he’s treating her like she’s part of the furniture.
“Well, if you change your mind…” She trails off, finally stepping back.
Her eyes slide to me then, narrow and assessing. The glare is brief but unmistakable.Who are you, and what are you doing here with them?
