“Do noteversuggest that again,” I growl before making eye contact with Hanlon in the rearview mirror. “What do you want to eat?”
“Uh, Logan had mentioned barbecue. That’s fine with me.”
If I don’t break my teeth during this outing, it’ll be a fucking miracle.
Pulling into the restaurant a few minutes later, we’re led to a booth by the hostess. Hanlon slides in first, and Logan makes a move to slide in next to him until I nudge him out of the way and slip into the booth before he does.
He whips his head toward me with awhat-the-fuckexpression. Thankfully, Hanlon is studying the menu and doesn’t notice.
“Jasmine will be your server. She’ll be right over,” the hostess says before heading back up front.
Sure enough, Jasmine appears out of thin air a second later, carrying three waters and places them on the table.
“Hello, boys,” Jasmine greets us. Ricochet Ridge is the name of the ski resort as well as the small town it’s in. The year-round population runs about twenty thousand. Jasmine knows the locals.
“Afternoon, gorgeous,” Logan flirts.
“Hey, Jasmine,” I say with a tight smile.
Hanlon flashes her a genuine smile and a warm “Hello.”
“Well, aren’t you just as cute as they come?” she says to Hanlon, who blushes at the attention. “You new here?”
“I’m doing an internship at the ski resort,” he explains.
“Well, don’t let these two knuckleheads get you into trouble. It’s what they’re best at.”
“I’ll try,” Hanlon replies.
Jasmine asks if we want anything else to drink and then leaves to give us time to decide on our orders.
While I’m looking over the menu, Hanlon shrugs out of his jacket and hands it to Logan.
“Can you put this over there next to you?” he asks. “It’s like a hundred degrees in here.”
He goes to remove his hoodie next, but it’s a tight fit in the booth, and he struggles to get it over his head without knocking me in the face. It’s halfway off when his arms get stuck.
“Uh, Stone? A little help?”
I’m trying really fucking hard not to notice the way his T-shirt has gotten caught in the hoodie and is exposing his…abs?Since when does Hanlon haveabs?And why the fuck do I care about them so goddamn much?
Blowing out an exasperated sigh, I grip the material and yank.
It all comes off.
He scrambles to get his T-shirt back over his head, but he doesn’t make it before I catch a glimpse of the pecs he’s been hiding as well.
Holy shit. My stepbrother is fucking jacked.
“Please excuse me while I go find the manager and ask him to turn the heat up further,” Logan jokes.
“Ohmygod, no! It’s already an oven in here,” Hanlon cries, missing the terrible joke.
“He just wants you to take your shirt off again,” I explain, shooting daggers at Logan.
To my utter horror, Hanlon laughs. “You’ll have to buy me a drink first.”
“Jasmine!” Logan yells, shooting his hand in the air like he’s in middle school. “Two shots!”
