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“No, you put it in the oven, after which I had to go rescue it and remove the plastic.”
Sam hid his smile beyond his glass of wine, thoroughly enjoying himself. Even when he’d been married, he’d never liked hanging out with other couples. Most twosomes seemed like they were either faking the whole lovey-dovey routine for the sake of their audience or else straining to be civil with that universal I-can’t-wait-to-finish-that-fight-from-earlier tension.
But there was none of that tonight. Riley’s friends radiated a happy-with-their-lives confidence that was as rare as it was refreshing. There was no competition, no bragging. Just a group of people who genuinely enjoyed one another.
Although some twosomes were enjoying each other more than others, he noted, as Jake leaned in to kiss Grace before he began stacking dishes.
Sam had never considered himself a PDA type of guy, so he was a little surprised at the stab of jealousy he felt. What would it be like to lean over and plant one on Riley right now? God knew he wanted to.
Especially since right before coming over to Julie and Mitchell’s, she’d hauled out her collection of Stiletto magazines and told him to pick out one of her previous articles to try in person later.
He knew exactly which one he was going with too.
He hoped she was flexible.
But it wasn’t just sex.
Granted, there had been a lot of that since that first evening.
But there had also been a baseball game, and a spontaneous midweek lunch, and a movie night, and now a dinner party.
It was both terrifying and the best damn time he’d had in years.
Riley had always been like a magnetic spark plug—one he’d tried to resist. He’d always known he’d end up drowning in her.
And he was drowning, all right.
But in the best way possible.
Riley the girlfriend—was she a girlfriend?—was surprisingly sweet. Whether it was bringing him late-night pizza when one of his distillers broke or joining him to taste test his latest whisky competitors instead of going to whatever nightclub was opening in the city, she was exactly the low-maintenance kind of companion he’d been dreading.
Dreading, because if she’d b
een a drama-loving prima donna, it would be easy to chalk up their sexual chemistry to just that—chemistry. And it would be easy to let her go.
But this sweet, fun, can’t-get-enough Riley? Danger.
As it was, outside the bedroom felt just as right as in.
Well. Almost.
Sam glanced over to where Riley continued to badger Grace about flower-girl status, her black hair spilling over her shoulders, her blue eyes sparkling.
He was in serious trouble.
“You’re staring,” Jake muttered quietly as he picked up the empty salmon platter in front of Sam. “You’d best help us with dishes unless you want to be the one contemplating a destination wedding.”
His stomach clenched at the word wedding, and he almost knocked over his chair in his hurry to get up from the table and distance himself from dangerous thoughts. Been there, done that, never again.
He stacked up the plates on the table, intentionally turning a deaf ear to the women’s wedding talk. Sam didn’t dare look at Riley. Why hadn’t he thought of this before agreeing to the dinner? Two of her best friends were engaged.
That would turn even the most independent woman’s mind toward wedding mania.
Though, that wasn’t fair. Riley hadn’t even referred to him as a boyfriend, much less hinted that she expected them to go ring shopping together. And this wasn’t the 1800s.
Women didn’t get ideas from just a couple of weeks of fooling around.
He snuck a peek at her profile before heading into the kitchen.
