Jamie leaned in, that fucking dimple popping out again. “It’s my secret weapon.”
“I thought your secret weapon was lobster stock,” Noah grumbled. Jamie’s smile faltered.
Callie shot Noah a pointed look and picked up one of the tiny toasts. She inspected it, her eyes sparkling. “And you put the horseradishinthe chimichurri?”
“We like to play fast and loose with the classic recipes around here,” he said with a wink, his hand brushing against her shoulder.
“This looks amazing, Jamie. Thank you,” Callie said, flashing a smile.
Noah mumbled his thanks as Jamie excused himself.
“Be nice,” Callie chided. “He feels bad enough as it is.”
“Then he should stop flirting with my girlfriend,” Noah replied, leaning on the title.
Noah took a bite and immediately hated that the tiny toast was so fucking delicious. The most tender beef he’d ever eaten—it practically melted on his tongue—and a green sauce with lots of herbs in it, something sharp and spicy at the back of his throat, and something creamy and sweet. Who thought of putting these things together? And why had he never known food could taste like this?
“Oh, God, that’s good.” Callie closed her eyes as she swallowed her bite and just like that Noah was hard as a rock, thinking about the last time he’d heard her say those words and how she’d bloomed beneath his touch.
He cleared his throat. “My uncle is suspicious,” he said, moving the conversation back to something safer. A reminder he needed that they were not in fact a couple.
“Why’s that?” Callie asked, her tongue darting out to swipe a speck of cream from her upper lip.
“He’s a curmudgeonly old man,” Noah said, looking away to resist the temptation to lick her lips clean himself. “We need him to believe this thing is real if he’s going to help convince Wolf to hire me. Uncle Stu can be very persuasive—he might even be able to help convince your mom it’s time she finally moved.”
“Okay. Then let’s clean up our story,” she said. “We told our mothers that we started dating in May. How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. We were both at the same bar—”
“Nope. I don’t go to bars.”
“Okay, then the same club.”
“You think I don’t go to bars, but I go to clubs?” She chuckled, shaking her head.
“Didn’t I see you at karaoke with Liv in May?”
He knew he’d seen her. She’d worn a green blouse with a high neck and jeans that made her ass look amazing. Back then she’d been using a purse shaped like a pair of lips—hot pink—and that night she’d worn matching earrings.
“Oh yeah,” she said, smiling. “When Liv and I did our tribute to Poison.”
Noah groaned. “You two are savage.”
Callie laughed, a full-throated laugh that made her whole face glow. “Okay, so we reconnected at karaoke because you loved my rendition ofEvery Rose Has Its Thorn.”
“No one who was there will believe that,” he said, grinning.
“Now who’s savage?”
“We reconnected at karaoke, in spite of your massacring of an 80s classic, and I texted you the next day to invite you to dinner.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Just like that? After a lifetime of knowing each other, all it takes is one Poison song?”
“It was a very convincing performance. Especially in that blouse.”
Her smile wavered.
Shit. Is it creepy that I remember what she was wearing?
