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“You should’ve put them on the color-coded schedule.”

“I’ll issue a revision.”

“Make sure you laminate it.”

“You’re still an asshole.”

“You’re still sitting beside me.”

The words could’ve cut if his expression had been cold.

It wasn’t.

I looked at the empty stool separating us. “Technically, I’m sitting near you.”

Ryan glanced down as though noticing the space for the first time. Then he hooked one Adidas around the bottom of my stool and dragged it toward him.

The legs scraped softly across the floor until the empty seat remained on my other side.

My breath caught as my knee settled against his thigh.

“Better?” he asked.

His voice carried enough mezcal and old heat to make the question dangerous.

I refused to retreat. “You’ve always had control issues.”

“You’ve always liked them.”

“Occasionally.”

“Liar.”

My smile came too quickly.

Briggs began talking louder to Rider. Bliss looked at Cade with wide eyes before he murmured something near her ear that settled her. Aura watched me directly now, but I gave her no sign that I needed rescue.

I didn’t.

Ryan and I were buzzed, drawn together by liquid courage and a connection neither of us understood how to turn off. Morning would return every reason this was complicated. Tonight allowed us to remember why it had once felt inevitable.

I looked toward the clock above the bar and discovered dinner started in twenty minutes.

“How are we supposed to get through dinner this buzzed?”

Ryan followed my gaze before looking at the collection of empty shot glasses.

“We’re not that bad.”

“You dragged my stool across the floor in front of everyone.”

“You were too far away.”

The answer came so naturally that neither of us reacted immediately.

Then his expression changed.

I saved us both by lifting my vodka. “That sounded dangerously honest.”