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Ivy snorts. “That’s it. We need a Crown of Spires–themed wedding. And you”—she pokes my chest—“need to dress like Lord Extyllior.”
“I’m not dressing like Lord Extyllior at my wedding!” I narrow my eyes at her, then turn to Alana. “Ivy’s an actress, too. She was on a sci-fi show. Bridge. She’s the ship’s engineer.” I scratch my head. “Maybe the cocktail should be called Start My Engines.”
Ivy shoves me so hard I almost fall off my stool.
“What?!” I say, palms up, all innocence.
“Don’t listen to him,” she tells Alana. “It should definitely be called Sex on a Spire.”
The bartender gets a funny distant look on her face. “Give me a few minutes.”
“Start My Engines!” I call after her, but I’m pretty sure I’ve lost.
Ivy rounds on me. “Start My Engines?”
My lips twitch.
She shoves me again. “You’re a bad, bad man.”
“So I’ve heard.”
The space between us has narrowed again. This time it’s not all me. It’s both of us, our upper bodies drifting closer together. Ivy’s eyes move over my face, her lower lip soft. Her tongue peeks out and wets her lips, and I feel it all the way down to the root of my cock.
I want that mouth on me more than I want my next breath.
“Ivy—”
“Here you are!” Alana announces, setting down our burgers.
We’re halfway through our burgers when she returns and sets two identical black drinks down. “Ladies and gentlemen! Sex on a Spire.”
Ivy gives me a triumphant look. I sigh.
We take simultaneous sips.
“Whoa,” Ivy says.
“That’s good,” I say. “What makes it black like that?”
“Can’t reveal my secrets,” Alana says, obviously pleased. “Those’ll keep you busy for a bit.” She points at Ivy. “So if you were on Bridge, you must know that guy—the one who just got arrested. Anthony something.”
Ivy freezes. “Arrested?”
“Yeah. Public nuisance or something? A band out in front of someone’s house?”
Her face goes sheet white. Alana whips her phone out, scrolls for a bit, and holds it up. We watch the reel spin by. Band. “All You Need Is Love.” The camera pans…
And Ivy’s shoulders soften.
It’s not her house.
It’s not her.
Her face goes from white to rosy. “Thank God,” she breathes.
In the reel, the cops show up. Anthony, agitated, tries to explain himself, but a cop shakes his head and produces handcuffs, and the reel abruptly stops.
Ivy is laughing. “He tried the same thing on someone else, and she called the cops on him! Oh my God, if that isn’t karma.”
