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She dragged her fingers over the back of a leather couch and turned to find them standing in the open arch between the kitchen and living room, staring at her.
“What?” She looked down at her shirt. She had pulled this one out of the clean laundry, right?
Now that she looked a little closer, the gleam in Tristan’s eyes was a bit more predatory. Sparks? His was just liquid heat. Like bottle-green glass caught in the sun and refracting the light, making him seem slightly otherworldly.
Her guys.
At least for tonight.
She rubbed her hands together. “I’m starving.”
“The pizza is resting.” Sparks rolled his eyes.
“You want cheese sliding off?” When neither of them replied, Tristan snapped his towel against his thighs. “I didn’t think so.”
Sparks retreated back into the kitchen and came back with wine and glasses. He poured her a glass and handed it over.
Her fingers lingered over his for a moment before bringing the glass to her lips. She took a sip. Her eyebrow arched at the fiery smoky flavor. There was something to be said for having a foodie-type in her life. No rotgut wine here.
She was used to box wine at Margo and Simon’s house. Her sister and brother-in-law were loaded, but they were funny with what they spent their money on.
She was pretty sure Margo had put all her Boston knowledge in a box. She ate pizza with her fingers, played naked Monopoly—Juliet wished she didn’t know that one—and had a strange fixation with a garish black and leather chair that looked like it belonged in Game of Thrones that resided in their living room.
Funny how life turned out.
Sparks moved to the table and pulled out one chair, then another. Evidently, she was going to be in the middle of all things tonight.
Her damn nipples were going to bust through her blouse if she didn’t get herself together. She moved into the corner where the round table butted up against the window. It was a small nook—cozy, one might say.
All she could think was trouble, because she was going to be trapped between two very hungry males.
The chair seat was surprisingly plush.
Sparks returned to the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“No,” Tristan replied. “We’re good.”
She shrugged. The kitchen definitely wasn’t her domain, but she did know how to set a table. Before she could feel guilty for sitting on her ass and letting them wait on her, Sparks returned with plates and napkins. No paper plates for this evening. No, Sparks held heavy white plates rimmed in black with red peeking from the bottom.
Trust Tristan to have a nice presentation even at home. Or maybe especially at home. Even just for pizza.
She sat back, holding her glass as Sparks placed the plate just so, then he layered a set of silverware tucked in a red cloth napkin across the plate. His smile was a little tight, but less nervous than her previous night with him.
“Thanks.”
He dipped his head a little and a lock of hair fell forward. Cute.
Tristan came out with a pizza stone on an elevated tray like a pizza place. He set it in the middle of the table and for the first time, her mouth watered for more than the two men hovering over her.
“Wow.”
“It’s just pizza.” Tristan sat next to her and snapped out his napkin. Instead of giving her any room, his thigh bumped against hers as he nudged her into the corner.
Sparks sat down and did the same, getting all up in her space.
“Guys, a little elbow room.”
Tristan grinned. “Nope.”
