Page 40 of Vegas with my Ex’s Best Friends

I glance down before I can stop myself.

He's hard.

Right there through his jeans.

Heat slides up my spine. Definitely not imagining that.

“Comfortable?” I murmur.

His eyes flick toward me. He's already putting it together. Watching me catch up.

His jaw tightens. “Not particularly.”

We both stare straight ahead for a beat.

“You're thinking awfully hard about something,” he says.

“Work.”

“Mm.” He watches me a moment longer. “You always get that little crease right here when you're stressed.” He taps his own brow.

“You've been staring at my face long enough to map every stress wrinkle?”

“Part of the job.” He grins.

The restaurant glows gold with crystal chandeliers overhead and deep velvet booths. A server walks past carrying a bottle of champagne with sparklers trailing smoke and light. Glass walls frame the glittering city below. Someone spent real money on the lighting. Wine list leather-bound, no prices on the menu anywhere.

Liam shifts beside me, shoulder along my arm, and I catch cedar and something clean on his skin before I'm ready for it.

“Good table,” he says.

“Great table,” I correct. He ordered it specifically.

When the waiter comes, Liam orders bourbon and I order water. The half-second of silence that follows does the work of an entire sentence. He's been doing this for two weeks—watching me order water and push food around without comment.

“You should try the gnocchi,” he suggests. “Connor brought us here the first time we all went out. Best thing on the menu.”

“All four of you?”

He chuckles softly. “We sat in silence for twenty minutes, then argued about the Henderson-Ellis deal. Ethan won.”

“Because he was right?”

“Because he outlasts everyone else.” Liam tips his head. “Different skill.”

I order the gnocchi, Liam the filet. When the breadbasket arrives I move a piece around my plate without eating it. He notices but doesn’t say anything.

“You're quiet tonight,” he says eventually.

“I'm always quiet.”

“Not like this.” His gaze drops to my dress, then returns to my face. “You wore a dress.” The teasing drops out of his voice. “You're hiding something.” “And you've been hiding it for weeks.”

“The Comic Sans situation is weighing on me.”Jules would call bullshit on that answer in a heartbeat. She’d also remind me what I promised myself after Andrew. Both things are true.

He gives me the look that says he's choosing not to argue. The food arrives and he starts talking about a deal he and Andrew are closing next week. He speaks about work the way other people talk about nothing important, easy and relaxed. I find myself listening. Really listening.

He makes me laugh once when he describes Andrew refusing to put a mug back where he found it. Another time when he tells me about Ethan winning a restaurant argument with a spreadsheet on his phone. Both times I laugh before I remember I'm carrying a secret I can't share.