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“Ready to go?”
I nod, my smile tight. Alex indicates and pulls out of the driveway. He carefully sticks to the speed limit the entire way to the restaurant. No way the horsepower in this car is going to be taxed tonight. No tire-squealing dash to the desert for us.
Alex carelessly throws his keys to the valet as we arrive, placing his hand on my back and guiding me inside. It’s a nice restaurant. High ceilings, airy, chandeliers, brightly lit. As the hostess shows us to our table near the large windows, the air is filled with the tinkling of crystal, murmured conversations, and a faint strain of piano music.
Taking my seat, I accept the menu from the waitress as Alex orders a bottle of wine.
“Are you thinking of visiting Sophie and Hugh in LA after Christmas?” he asks, looking up from his own gilt-edged menu.
“Maybe,” I tip my head to the side, frowning at the heavily French-inspired menu. I could murder a diner burger right now.
“Perhaps we could go together? Make a trip of it?”
My head snaps up at Alex’s words. Is the man planning our first vacation together ten minutes into our first date? That’s… bold.
“Maybe.” I offer another tight smile, turning to place my order with the waitress. Since a burger is off the menu, I’ll have to settle for baked sole.
“Are you going to the Pinedale Club’s Thanksgiving event?”
Oh, thank god we’re off the topic of a potential vacation. The Pinedale Club does a Thanksgiving luncheon two days before Thanksgiving every year. It is inexplicably to raise money for charity, but it’s really to see and be seen. And photographed.
“Mom has purchased a table.”
MERCH
I climb off my rig, my eyebrows raising at Palmer. He grins at me, jerking his head to The Pines.
“I need to duck upstairs. You’re welcome to come up.”
“Fine, but I’m making myself comfortable on the couch with a beer if you take too long to fuck Lisa.”
Palmer throws me an undecipherable look as he strides inside. He could have been telling me not to worry, or he could have been warning me not to expect him to be quick. It can go either way when he gets it in his head that he wants to fuck Lisa.
“You need an elevator,” I complain as we finally reach his floor. Palmer laughs, flipping me off.
“It would always be breaking down. The super’s fucking useless. Plus, it’s a great deterrent for cops to come all the way up here.”
Huh. I never thought about it that way. Palmer shoves his way into the apartment, and I follow, kicking the door shut behind me. Lisa is sitting on the couch, reading some heavy-looking book. I know she goes to the library a lot. I think there’s a book club involved. Something online.
Palmer glances around in surprise. I’m not sure what other scene he expected us to walk in on. Picking up a little foam ball from the sideboard, Palmer lobs it at his fiancée. It hits her forehead, dropping down onto her book and rolling into her lap. She looks up, somehow not shocked that she got smacked in the face with a foam ball.
Huh. You know, I always wondered why they had about a hundred little foam balls scattered all over the apartment. Now I know. It was not the reason I was thinking.
“Where’s Shelley? Don’t you two normally hang out on a Saturday night?” Palmer asks. Ah. His meaningful look downstairs suddenly makes more sense. He figured I wouldn’t give a fuck how long they were in the bedroom because I would have Shelley entertaining my cock out here.
Lisa shrugs, throwing the ball back to him. He catches it, dropping it back onto the sideboard.
“She has a date.”
What. The. Fuck? What date? I blink in shock. She’s never mentioned anything like that to me.
“With who?” I grit out, my eyes burning into Lisa’s face. She doesn’t respond, and a growl rumbles out of me. I’m going to need information. Ignoring me isn’t going to work right now. And it’s not going to save Shelley’s ass.
Palmer throws me an amused look, smirking when I flip him off. Before I can snap at Lisa, Palmer turns back to her, looking her dead in the eye.
“With who?”
Oh. Right. Gritted teeth mean my mouth didn’t move, so Lisa had no idea I spoke. That’s annoying. I have no idea how Palmer puts up with that shit.
