Page 84 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“And?”

“He didn’t tell me not to.”

The answer lands heavily in my chest. Speechless, I swallow and look back out at the road, trees blurring past in dark shapes. I guess Wayne and I are truly never going to admit what happened on that first night. I need to just get used to that already.

“He didn’t look thrilled,” Fletcher adds after a moment.

My head turns before I can stop it. “He didn’t?”

A corner of Fletcher’s mouth lifts. “No.”

I try not to feel it, that flicker inside me. What is it? Satisfaction? Validation? Petty delight?

But that’s not who I am. Is it?

We cross the bridge into town, the lights shining on the river, and I force myself to breathe.

This is just a date.

Riverbend Grill is all soft wood and low lighting, windows overlooking the black shimmer of water below. It feels grown-up. Intentional. The kind of place people come to celebrate anniversaries and promotions... not complicated emotional entanglements.

Fletcher comes around to open my door again. I tell myself not to notice how warm his hand is at the small of my back as we walk in to the restaurant.

Inside, a tall guy with kind eyes and an easy smile looks up from the host stand.

“Evening,” he says. “Two?”

“Yes, please,” Fletcher replies.

The name tag on his shirt reads DEVON.

He grabs two menus and leads us toward a table near the window. The river beams faintly under the colored string lights outside, reflections breaking with the current.

“Nice view tonight,” Devon says as he sets down the menus. “Mist cleared just enough.”

“It’s beautiful,” I admit.

He smiles politely. “I’ll give you a minute.”

When he walks away, I realize I’m still standing. Fletcher pulls my chair out gently. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Just… taking it in.”

He watches me, cataloging the way my eyes move around the room. “You get quiet when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

He doesn’t argue. Just lifts one dark brow as if to say we both know better.

I open the menu and run my eyes over the print, barely processing a single word on it. My brain is still stuck on, He didn’t look thrilled.

Stop it.

Focus.

“What are you getting?” I ask.

“Steak.”