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Maliki plantshis hand on my shoulders. “You ready to eat?”
My stomach growls at the mention of food. “Yes, I’m starving.”
He holds out his hand, helping me from my chair, and I follow him to the table covered with food. It all looks delicious, and I take one of everything. When I’m finished making my plate and I head back to the table, Archer is in my seat next to Georgia. She’s glaring at him, and he shakes his head, chugging his beer. There’s only one chair open at the table, so Maliki leads me to a separate two-top table.
“I can’t believe you told them about me sneaking into the bar,” I say as soon as we sit.
Maliki pops the top of his beer and leans back in his chair. “I wanted Cohen’s opinion. It’s not like I could ask anyone in Blue Beech, seeing it was you and word would’ve spread like wildfire. I needed someone to vent to.”
“I’m delighted I was on your mind.”
“Can I sit with Uncle Maliki?” Noah yells, charging toward us without waiting for an answer.
“Sure,” Cohen answers, heading our way with two plates in his hand.
I push to my feet. “I’ll find him a chair.”
“Unnecessary,” Maliki mutters, anchoring his large hands around my waist and dragging me onto his lap. “This one is big enough for two.”
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
I’m on his lap.
My heart freezes and then pounds like it’s prepared to jump out of my chest, so I can hand it over to him. My mind scrambles in so many directions that I’m waiting for it to explode. Maliki is a different man outside of Blue Beech, and I love this Maliki.
Noah falls into my chair when Maliki gestures for him to take it. Cohen drops Noah’s plate on the table and sets a bottle of root beer next to it. When his gaze travels to us, he quirks a brow, smiles, and pushes my plate to me.
“Who are you?” Noah asks, kicking his feet against the chair legs when Cohen leaves.
I grin. “I’m Sierra. Who areyou?”
His attention stays on me. “I’m Noah. Are you Uncle Maliki’s girlfriend?”
Maliki rests his hand on my thigh, causing me to take a moment to answer him.
I shake my head, wishing I could curse Maliki. “No, I’m his friend.”
Noah scrunches up his face. “You sure look like his girlfriend.”
We are in need of a subject change, pronto, and Maliki isn’t jumping to stop him from asking these awkward questions.
I pick up my fork. “How old are you, Noah?”
He holds up a hand. “Fivebutalmost six.”
“Wow, you’re old.”
“Yes, he is,” Maliki says. “I’m waiting for him to sprout some gray hair.”
Noah straightens in his chair. “No! That isn’t happening until I’m ninety-two hundred.”
Maliki chuckles. “Ninety-two hundred, huh?”
“Yes.” He grabs his hot dog and points to Maliki with it. “Don’t forget you promised to do something fun with me for my birthday.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Maliki replies.
