“No,” she whispers.
“Then why are you upset?” My thumb strokes the side of her jaw, and she leans into my touch just enough that I feel pressure against my fingers.
“He thought you would be mad if we were late.”
I’m going to kick his ass. “I’m not mad. He was teasing you.”
“Okay.” She leans against my fingers a little more.
“We should go,” Oswald says with enough urgency that I know to pull my hand back from Waylynn immediately. She rights herself in her seat just as quickly and reaches for her seatbelt.
I pull down the gear shift and scan the people walking around. Hilbrand is nearing my truck, but she’s not even looking in our direction. Thank fuck. I make a mental note to thank Oswald later for the cockblock, because I was thinking about kissing Waylynn, and she might not be ready for that. Letting me flirt with her and being receptive is a far cry from where I want this to go. Plus, there’s a reason that should be more important, but somehow, it’s not. Hilbrand could have seen us.
As soon as we’re out of the parking lot, I wrap my fingers over the top of her thigh, down by her knee. She tenses for just a second, then relaxes until I can feel her leg pressed up against mine all the way up to my hip.
“Believe it or not, it was hard to find a restaurant that served lasagna that wasn’t a pizza place,” I say while taking us farther from the downtown area.
“We can go anywhere,” she says quickly.
“No, we can’t, I just hope this place lives up to the reviews.” I can’t stop myself from running my hand up and down her leg a little.
“Where is it? Ypsi?” Oswald looks out the window.
“Close.” Thankfully, the parking lot isn’t packed. I was hoping to beat the lunch rush if there is one.
Oswald
Memphis placeshis hand on top of Waylynn’s when she reaches for the bill the second the waitress sets the padded folder down. “It’s my turn,” she says without lifting her head to meet his stare.
I watch my brother’s lips thin, but then he releases her hand slowly. “I didn’t bring you here for you to pay.” His voice is tight, and Waylynn reacts to it by shrinking in on herself as she pulls the folder closer to her chest near the table.
“You’ve bought me lunch twice,” she reminds him.
“You’ve fed us dinner at your house.” He leans closer to her, and I watch her top teeth sink into her full bottom lip. “Give me the bill…please.”
She sucks in a shaky inhalation when her hair stirs from his breath on her neck. Without looking up, she slides the folder over to him slowly. “Good girl,” he rumbles, and she inhales sharply.
I adjust my dick in my pants, praying the waitress isn’t too fast. That last little noise she made put me over the edge. I’m going to have blue balls for my next class.
Memphis stays close to Waylynn as we wait for his card to be returned. He even rests his arm on the back of her chair. It looks casual, but I know it’s not. The moment he signs the slip, we all stand.
Memphis walks out the door and holds it open for both of us. When we’re in the sun, Waylynn takes a deep breath and says, “I can’t go to lunch with you anymore until you promise to let me reciprocate,” in a rush, as if she’s been holding on to the words for a long time.
“How about dinner tonight?” Memphis says, strolling to the truck. Waylynn seems dumbfounded. Frankly, I am too. He wouldn’t let her pay at lunch, but he will tonight at dinner?
“Okay,” she drawls.
“We’ll be over when he gets done with practice. Do you have anything thawed?” Damn, he’s slick. He just secured us an invite to her house and dinner.
Waylynn falters, seeming to understand he just played her, but she can’t really deny him since she did pay for all the groceries. “No, but I’ll figure it out.” She hauls open the truck door before I can and then slips into the middle seat.
NEAR MISS
Waylynn
It’s not until I get home and check my phone that I see the reminder for my appointment with Maxwell tonight at five. I panic for a second, knowing he won’t let me cancel, and freak out about the guys showing up while I’m in session. I do not want to explain what’s going on in my life to any of them.
My fingers shake as I pull up my texts, like Oswald and Memphis might burst through the door any second and somehow know I have to talk to my therapist today. It would be easier to text Oswald, but I know he has practice, so I hit the thread named Sir.
