Just as I’m trying to compose a politely scathing response, my phone buzzes.
“Oh, I’d better check that,” I say while reaching for my clutch. I yank my phone out and flip it over to read the incoming message, relieved for the reprieve, however brief it is.
As soon as I read the name on the screen, some of my anger cools.
It’s Ace.
Hey, you doing alright? Need a rescue?
I glance at the Blade and Arrow table to find Ace looking at me. His features are creased with concern.
Though I’m far from feeling cheerful right now—forty-six minutes of sitting next to MOMP will do that—the sight of Ace makes me smile.
I’m not sure if it’s from the relief of seeing a friendly face, or the incongruity of big, gruff-looking Ace stuffed into a tuxedo.
In all the years I’ve known Ace, which has to be close to eight years now, I’ve never seen him dressed up like this. It’s either been his uniform, workout gear, or casual clothes like jeans or cargo pants. And, I have to admit, he looks good in all of them. But in a tux? With the fabric stretching just so across his broadshoulders? And the crisp white shirt setting off his piercing blue eyes and dark-blonde hair?
Well, he looks better thangood. And from the longing looks several of the women at the neighboring tables are giving him, I’m not the only one who thinks so.
Throwing Ace a quick smile in return, I shake my head slightly before replying to his text.
I’m okay. Just enjoying a pleasant dinner with MOMP. Fortunately, it’ll be over soon.
Seconds later, Ace’s response appears on my screen.
MOMP?
Angling my phone to ensure Camden can’t see my message, I quickly type my reply.
Most Obnoxious Man on the Planet.
From three tables over, Ace grins.
My stomach flutters unexpectedly.
A warm feeling spreads through my body, but it has nothing to do with anger this time.
Out of all the Blade and Arrow guys, Ace is by far my favorite. I’ve always liked him, ever since we first met during a training session at Fort Campbell, but in the past year, we’ve formed a deeper connection. Not a romantic one—he’s never given any indication of wanting that, and I don’t think I have, either—but ever since he stayed at my place last year along with Indy, Tyler, and Bea, there’s been a new depth to our friendship.
We don’t see each other often, not with me in Rainier Beach and him just outside Portland, but we text at least a few times a month to check in. And he’s one of the ones I was most looking forward to spending time with tonight.
Dinner’s almost over,I remind myself.Soon I’ll be free of MOMP and hopefully enjoy the rest of my chauvinist-free night.
I’m just about to send another message when I catch a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye.
It’s Camden’s hand inching closer to my wine glass.
My three-quarters-full wine glass, which I don’t intend to finish since I have to drive home tonight.
I don’t say anything right away. I’m not sure why. It would be easy enough to grab my glass. Or simply ask Camden what he’s doing. But part of me just wants to observe. It’s the same curious part that used to get me into trouble as a kid, like when I decided to take my dad’s brand new phone apart just to see what was inside. Or when I decided to modify the refrigerator so it would warn you if the door was open too long, which I still think was a good idea.
But this isn’t tinkering with parts to see what I can create. This is watching a jerk do something that raises a giant red flag.
As his hand moves even closer, I cast a lightning-fast glance around the table. The other six people—all couples, so apparently I really drew the unlucky straw—are either deep in conversation or in one case, kissing. So they aren’t paying attention to whatever Camden is or isn’t doing.
Would he?I wonder. Would he dare?
Because I still remember the first week of college, when all the freshman women in my dorm were rounded up for a lesson about how we need to watch our drinks and never,everleave them alone.“It could take less than ten seconds,”my RA told us grimly.“Ten seconds for a predator to slip something into your drink. You might not think it could happen to you. But trust me, it can.”
