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Tackle scooted closer, crowding me against the wall. “Not awkward at all. I can touch you all I want, and Halo will never know.”
“I think he’ll notice. Besides, who says I want you to touch me?”
“You do.” He moved farther away from me when we saw Knox headed our way.
The guys ordered a pitcher of beer, but the thought of it turned my stomach. “I’ll just have a glass of water with lemon,” I told our waitress, who looked like she was just out of high school.
“You were in here a few nights ago, weren’t you?” she asked Tackle.
“Uh, maybe. I don’t remember.”
“Yeah, it was you.” She continued staring at him long enough that I thought about asking him to move so I could claw her eyeballs from her head.
“Ahem, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, we’d like to order.”
“Sure thing, honeybunch. Go ahead.” She still hadn’t looked at me.
I reached over and put my hand on Tackle’s arm. “Isn’t that funny, baby?” I said in the most annoying, over-the-top, drippingly sweet voice I could. “She called me honeybunch, just like you do.”
Knox laughed so hard he spit out his drink of beer. Tackle put his hand on mine. “Sorry, miss, but I don’t allow anyone to call her honeybunch but me.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it while Knox kept laughing.
“You’re a lucky girl,” the waitress muttered. “I’ll be back in a minute with your drinks.” She walked away, ignoring my request to order food.
I pulled my hand from Tackle’s, picked up my menu, and buried my heated cheeks in it.
“That was great,” said Knox, nudging me under the table with his foot.
The waitress returned a few minutes later with the guys’ beer and water for me. No lemon, of course.
“Chicks,” muttered Knox, noticing.
“Chicks? What are you? From the seventies?”
Tackle laughed and shook his head. “That’s the same thing I told him the other day.”
Both of their heads turned when two women came in.
“That’s who I was talking about,” said Knox, pointing to one of them who had taken a seat but left her sunglasses on.
Tackle fidgeted and looked back at the menu.
“What the heck is her name?” mumbled Knox. Tackle pretended like he hadn’t heard him.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“Just someone we—ouch! Shit. Why’d you kick me?” my brother said to the man sitting beside me.
I was just about to ask Tackle to move so I could excuse myself when one of the women stood and walked toward our table.
“Hello, Knox. Hi, Landry,” she said. Evidently, my cloaking device had kicked in, rendering me invisible.
“Hi. I’m Sloane,” I said, not that she responded. Like the waitress, she couldn’t take her eyes off Tackle.
“Hey, Nick,” he said.
“I’m sorry to interrupt. Do you have a minute?”
“Now isn’t a great—”
