“Never ever have I ever…” He tipped his head back and sorted through ideas for something appropriate for Jules. “Ditched the outfit my stylist said—”
“No, come on, Rhys. I’m being serious. Don’t be like everyone else. That’s why I adore you. You literally hate everything here.”
“No lies detected,” he muttered with a shrug. “All right. Let me think.”
“Fine. I’ll go first. Never ever have I ever… flirted to get out of trouble.”
He laughed. “I bet you have.”
She raised her hand. “Guilty. You?”
A blush warmed his neck. He raised his hand too. “Guilty.”
Her eyes rounded. “What does it look like when you flirt?”
“That’s not a never-ever question.”
“Fine,” she said, her glossy pink lips pouting. “Your turn.”
He squirmed in his seat, tugging at the collar of his starched dress shirt. “Never have I ever…” He smirked. “Felt like an ass for saying those words when I’m not a teenager.”
“Come on.”
“Fine. Never ever have I had a crush that I refused to admit.” Where had that come from? But he didn’t take it back.
Her hand shot up.
“Who?” he demanded. She could literally name any person, and they would throw themselves at her.
“No way. That’s not part of it. You?”
Had he? Did he? What the hell was wrong with him tonight? “I don’t think so.”
Her face crumpled with disappointment before she masked it, saying, “Never ever have I smiled at my phone because of a text—”
“Sorry.” A man pushed a cart behind the curtain. “Coming through.”
Rhys moved his chair out of the way. “Who doesn’t smile at text messages? Serial killers and actuaries.” He remained on his feet as another person approached with a rolling cart. “We might need to move.”
He held out his arm to escort her to her table, keeping her upright in case of another shoe incident. “Why don’t you have a date we can assign to do this?” he joked.
“Eh.” She slipped her arm in his. “Men are always so needy. The ROI on a date is in the negatives. It’s easier this way.”
Chapter Twelve
Five Years Ago
The crowd outside the Tribeca restaurant had grown exponentially. Rhys scoured the scene through the floor-to-ceiling tinted windows. They could see out, but no one could see them as the chaos churned and turned, energy building as the crowd shifted and swayed to see everyone who exited the restaurant.
Paparazzi and tourists jostled one another for the fifteen feet between the front door and their waiting vehicle. A quiet dinner with friends shouldn’t require more than a three-person security detail. Yet as Rhys glanced from Frankie, a security agent at his side, to Juan, another security agent posted outside, ready to sweep the women into their Suburban, he wouldn’t have minded at least one more person and a line of cops to make a path.
They could wait for the cops to help out, but that would only give extra time for more people to show up.
“We’ve got a party tonight,” Juan said into their comms. “Seems like it’s growing. We going to get a move on or what?”
Rhys grumbled. “So much for a chill night out. Yeah. Give me a minute to confirm.”
Jules stepped up to him and rested her hand on his forearm, pushing to her tiptoes. “We’re ready when you are.”
