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When Blair initiated a conversation Monday morning about my birthday, it was decided we’d do something low-key. Dinner with friends at Shiner’s. But why stop there? With Ellie and TD leaving Sunday morning for their honeymoon to a resort in The Bahamas, she was digging through her stuff looking for outfits to take, and we all agreed to wear a cute outfit from the back of the closet that never sees the light of day. Even Ava is joining us tonight and agreed to find something out of her normal everyday wear.
“First off,” I start, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “I want to know when you bought that top and when you were planning on wearing it.”
Ellie blushes a dark pink shade. “Oh, uh, I thought I might wear it on a date about five years ago, but that never transpired.”
TD growls beside his wife and pulls her into his arms possessively. “Now you only wear it for me.”
“Yes, husband,” she coos, going up on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek. “Only you.”
“Okay, enough. No one wants to watch you two be lovey-dovey all night,” I tease, grabbing the menu card from the center of the table.
“You’re going to have to give us a little time on the lovey-dovey part,” TD counters, pulling out Ellie’s chair for her before taking his seat. “We’re still firmly in the honeymoon phase, and we haven’t even gotten to the honeymoon. Plus, we’re making up for lost time.”
I groan goodheartedly. “Fine, we’ll give you some grace, but only because I’m certain she’ll come home from said honeymoon knocked up.”
TD grins widely. “Hopefully.”
“Ava!” Blair greets, getting up from the chair beside me to hug the newest arrival.
“Hey, everyone,” she replies, returning the hug before turning my way. “Happy birthday.”
I take in her red dress and gasp. “Holy shit, look at you! This dress is fire.”
“Thanks. I was worried it was going to be a little too much, but when Ellie texted me a picture of what she was wearing, I decided to just do it.”
“It’s so beautiful. Red is definitely your color,” Blair adds.
“I wore it last year at my cousin’s wedding in Florida. I never thought I’d wear this baby again,” Ava announces with a chuckle, making us all laugh, considering we’re all wearing something we never thought we’d actually wear. “And remember, no photos on social media with me in them.”
“Of course,” I tell her, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze.
Several years ago, Ava had old photos of her doing keg stands in college posted on social media. One of her fifth-grade student’s parents saw it, and because they were upset at her for failing their son, took those photos to the school board to try to get her fired. It was terrible. Ava hasn’t stepped foot in any of the local drinking establishments since, fearful photos of her having a drink—despite being well over the legal age limit and off the clock—will come back to bite her in the ass again.
“I’m just happy you agreed to join us. I know this isn’t your thing,” Ellie says as we all start to take our seats around the table.
Ava shrugs. “I’ve decided celebrating the birthday of a friend was worth the risk.”
“Well, you’re definitely making a statement in that dress. I’m pretty sure Gavin Pierson almost tripped over his own two feet when he glanced this way,” I tell her, noticing the local contractor and construction guru continually looking this way.
“What? That’s probably because I teach his daughter,” she mutters, lowering her head. “Do you think he’s going to cause a problem?” Worry mars her beautiful face.
“No way. His interest in you is definitely more of the ‘I want to rip that dress off you and do you on the table,’” I state, watching as she turns a dark shade of red in embarrassment.
“I would never date the parent of one of my students,” she insists, but there’s no missing the way her eyes dart toward the bar where Gavin and his employee, Max Goodman, are sitting.
“Heard there was a birthday celebration tonight.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my nipples pebble against the material of my dress. Slowly, I turn around to confirm what I already know. Logan is here, and he didn’t turn ugly or grow a paunchy beer gut since the last time I saw him.
Dammit.
“Cupcake,” he greets with a knowing grin.
My clit hums to life.
“Logan,” I reply crisply, turning my attention back to the menu.
“What’s everyone drinking? I’ll go up and order a round,” he states, taking the empty chair directly to my right. Instantly, his woodsy cologne infiltrates the thick protective armor I slid into place before coming out tonight.
