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“I’m making up for lost time.”
“Okay, you can’t do that every day,” she pointed her spoon at me and the corners of her lips quivered as we straddled the line of a light or tense moment. I cracked a smile and she let out a laugh filled with relief. “Callum! You cannot guilt me every day. Please. That’s not fair.”
“It actually seems pretty fair to me.”
“No. Stop it.” She stared decidedly back into her yogurt. “Stop looking at me.”
“Fine. But I think it’s time for me to remind you that you once bet I’d never buy my own penthouse.” I grinned as Lake lifted her head slowly. Something about the doe-eyed look she gave me revived my morning wood from zero to sixty. Or rather, forty to sixty. “If I’m not allowed to guilt you, maybe I’ll take you up on those infinite dares. You know. Just to get out my aggression.”
“That would be dangerous, Callum.”
“We’ve always been into that.” She bit back her dirty smile and suddenly that need to suck her lip was painfully strong. “Like you said, Lake. Let’s play the game.”
“Well, it’s my turn.”
“I don’t think you get one anymore.”
“Oh God.” She groaned up at the ceiling but I could see her sexy mouth curving up with amusement. “Fine. Dare.”
“I haven’t thought of a good one yet,” I smirked as my phone rang. “What’s up, Oz.”
“How’s the hand!” The volume of his voice assaulted my eardrums. I looked down at my hand.
“Forgot about it till now.” I’d been happy to bruise my knuckles on Nick’s jaw all night till he called Lake a whore, at which point I stupidly went for a mouth shot. He stayed on the floor after that one, which was probably better if he was interested in looking for his teeth, but it wasn’t the greatest move on my part in terms of keeping my skin in tact. “It’s fine,” I said, assessing the damage. Not my worst.
“Good. We need your handsome whisky grip camera-ready tonight.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just got a call from the Times. They’re sending a photographer to The Pike tonight. They want some pictures of us for the article. Dressed nice with friends, they said. Laughing, drinking, having a grand old time. I’m sure we can give them at least an hour of sober smiles.”
“I can swing that. I have my doubts about you.”
“Eh, if I’m going to put on a suit and act sober for anyone I figure it’ll be for them.”
“Good to hear.” It was a big opportunity for us. The Times’ magazine was set to run an article on Oz, myself and Pike Scotch. One of their writers had reached out after attending a tasting. They wanted a story behind the company and the two hundred-year-old distillery I’d renovated with Oz. It was the type of mainstream exposure that could turn a brand into a staple and I was hell-bent on making sure it went perfectly.
“What’s up?” Lake asked when I hung up the phone.
“There’s a thing tonight.”
“Vague.”
“At The Pike. You don’t know what that is because you’ve been gone for six years.”
“Again with the guilting.”
I smirked. “I’m going to need you to wear a nice dress.”
“I don’t have one that isn’t covered in tequila and Nick Spencer drool.”
I winced as I finished my coffee. “There are solutions to that. Once you’re done with breakfast, I’ll be taking you shopping.”
She lifted her eyebrows with surprise. “You always hated shopping.”
“I always hated finding what I needed and then waiting four hours for you and my mother to. That’s not the kind of shopping we’re going to be doing today.”
“No?”
