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My neck tightened, and I held my breath in my throat as for the next few seconds, we stared at one another, both of us well aware of the fact that Britt’s hand was closing in on his cock. For a moment, I was convinced Emmett was punishing me, watching me just to revel in my reaction when she finally palmed it and started stroking under the table.
Really, Emmett? I groaned inwardly.
But before she could reach it, Emmett sat up straight, removing Britt’s hand from his lap and prompting me to let go of the breath I didn’t even know I w
as holding.
“Whoa. You alright?” Drew turned to me, raising his eyebrows as he looked down my body. “Christ. You’re jiggling.”
My eyes went wide as I looked down at my heaving chest in my too-tight dress. Drew smirked.
“I was talking about your knee, but yeah. That too.”
“Oh.” I blushed hard, realizing what a mess I was acting like. “Sorry. About the fidgeting,” I blurted, forcing myself to stop jiggling my leg under the table. But two seconds later, I started again, making Drew both groan and laugh as he clamped his massive hand down on my knee.
“You gotta stop,” he said, his long fingers squeezing me so tight I felt a shiver run up my spine.
But it wasn’t so much a result of his touch as it was my peripherals detecting Emmett’s shift across the table.
Sitting slack before, he was suddenly tense. Rigid. I could see his shoulders broadening with every breath he drew in, and I didn’t have to look over to know that his eyes were locked intently on me. Not only could I feel the heat of his stare, I could sense Britt’s growing impatience for the fact that she was losing her audience.
“Excuse me, I do believe I was talking,” she said in singsong to play off what I could only guess was genuine irritation.
At this point, she was so adamant about having Emmett pay full attention that she cupped his jaw in her hand and manually forced him to face her.
“Babe. You’re gonna wanna hear this part,” she grinned flirtatiously. “It’s the part where I got a little too drunk after the mezcal tour and skinny dipped in the pool – in front of everyone,” she giggled, throwing in another one of her winks.
As she went on about that, Drew leaned in close.
“Hey. So I need to confess something,” he murmured, his breath tickling my ear as my breath hitched in my throat. He’d been squeezing the hell out of my bare knee a minute ago, so I was briefly afraid that he’d tell me he wanted to go home now and touch the rest of my body.
But instead he took me by surprise.
“I’m kind of only here to be a dick,” Drew rasped.
My eyes fluttered over to him. “What?”
He’d just knocked back the last of his drink – his third in less than an hour – so his eyes were bleary and his voice was a bit slurred.
“Yeah, so I’m pretty sure you know this since you two have been eye-banging all night, but Emmett wants you.” His gaze drifted off for a second as he laughed to himself. “Like… bad.”
I blinked. “I, um… yes. I do know.” I frowned as I watched Drew rattle the ice in his empty glass and drunkenly lose his thought. “So, you’re here because what? You just want to fuck with him?” I asked, desperate to keep him on track.
“Yeah. That’s pretty much what we do to each other,” he laughed. “Though, actually,” he corrected himself. “I am here to enjoy the fact that you’re my date, ‘cause you do look beautiful and that dress is… pretty fuckin’ killer,” he grinned, letting his sleepy gaze fall down the front of Evie’s nude dress. But clearing his throat, he sat back up. “But that said, I’m not actually trying to take you home tonight. Unless Emmett magically loses interest in you, which… I assure you he won’t… I’m just here to torture him as payback for some petty shit. That make any sense or did I drink too much? ‘Cause I just drank a lot.”
I managed a laugh, feeling vaguely though not entirely relieved. “Um… I think that makes some sense. Why are you drinking so fast though?” I whispered.
“’Cause that’s what it takes to survive a night with this Beth chick,” he said, handing me my margarita. “So bottoms up. ‘Cause she’s still going on about Oaxaca.”
We shared a laugh as Britt took another five minutes to wrap up her story about her Mexican mezcal tour.
“Oh my God, it was amazing. Actually, I still have some distributor contacts in case you’re interested in carrying their mezcal at your restaurant, Aly,” Britt said with a smile.
“Oh.” I was surprised, since it was actually a nice, genuine offer. “Well, that’s really kind of you but I feel like most of the booze people seem to want at the restaurant is wine, beer and Bloody Marys on the weekend,” I said, watching Britt visibly deflate at my rejection of her offer. “But hey, who knows,” I brightened. “Maybe I’ll order some for my dad. He loves mezcal. I should definitely have at least a bottle for the day he visits.”
Britt’s eyes lit up as she cocked her head. “You’ve been open for more than three months and your dad hasn’t visited yet?” Her laugh was incredulous. “Isn’t opening your first restaurant kind of a big deal for you?”
“Oh.” I paused, blinking as I wondered how the hell the conversation got here. “Yes. It is a big deal.”
