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“That’s right,” Saxon says, adding to Kip, “we both read it when we were in our teens, didn’t we?”
Kip nods, looking relieved that his brother has taken pity on him at last. “We went through a phase of reading some of the classics, although we missedNeuromancer.”
“I’m a little embarrassed to say I haven’t read much at all,” Catie says, and blushes. Saxon glances at her and rubs her back, which strikes me as sweet.
“We all lead such busy lives, and it can be hard to squeeze in time for reading,” I say, wanting to put her at ease. “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stonehad just come out when I was born, and Mum read it aloud to me while she was breastfeeding. She said it was the only time she had in the day where she was forced to sit still, so she made the most of it.”
“That’s a lovely idea,” Catie says. “I’d thought about getting a rocking chair for the nursery. I could sit there while I’m feeding and read.”
Saxon pulls her toward him and kisses her cheek, and she kisses him back. I glance at Kip. He’s watching me, and my pulse speeds up again. He looks so gorgeous in the white dress shirt. He’s not wearing a tie so it’s open at the neck, revealing the hollow at the base of his throat, beneath his Adam’s apple. His skin there is tanned, and I can see a touch of chest hair. Ooh.
His lips curve up a little. Embarrassed to be caught staring at him, I drop my gaze to where his arm is resting on the table, but that doesn’t help. His arms are also tanned and scattered with light-brown hairs, and his hands are large with long fingers and nice manicured nails. How can I get turned on by his hand? Oh dear, I’m in big trouble.
Both guys are wearing Apple watches, and it occurs to me then that even though they’re not in suits, they both look wealthy. It’s obvious in their sharp haircuts, the cut of their clothes, their expensive cologne, and the way they carry themselves. Their self-confidence suggests they don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of them.
“We’d better decide what to order,” Saxon says. “I was wondering whether a couple of platters would be a good idea?”
“Sounds great,” I say, and so when the waitress comes up, the guys order the platters, which come with ribs, corn on the cob, onion rings, and fries that I call “curly pommes de terre,” which earns me a puzzled smile from Kip. We chat while we wait for the food to appear, then exclaim when the platters arrive at the table piled high, with several dishes of barbecue sauce for dipping.
“I love ribs,” I state. “I have a curious appetite.” Kip glances at me, and I smirk at my private joke. “They’re not exactly the perfect food for a date,” I scold him.
“At least you don’t have facial hair to deal with,” he says, taking a bite and then wiping sauce off his mustache.
“No, I waxed my top lip this morning,” I reply, and they all laugh.
We’re gradually relaxing now, and I’m actually enjoying myself. The two guys have a great sense of humor and bounce off each other, and Catie, although quiet and, I think, a little nervous herself, teases Saxon in a way I think is adorable.
Kip and I join in with the conversation, but I feel as if our bodies are having a private conversation of their own. I’m acutely conscious of him sitting so close to me, our knees bumping occasionally under the table.
My gaze is constantly drawn to him as I familiarize myself with the way he moves and his gestures and expressions, and I see him looking at me the same way from time to time, too. When he licks his fingers after eating the ribs, I can’t help but watch, my pulse speeding up as I wonder what’s going to happen after the meal. He glances at me then, and something in his eyes tells me he’s thinking the same thing.
His gaze drops to my mouth, and he grins. “Look away,” I scold, wiping my lips free of the sauce I know must be at the corners.
“I meant to ask, what’s your favorite type of sci-fi?” Saxon says.
I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine by this point, and although I’m still nervous, I’m a lot less anxious than I was. Unfortunately, alcohol encourages my naughty streak.
“Oh, I definitely like it hard,” I announce.
Saxon’s eyebrows rise, Catie’s eyes widen, and Kip coughs into his wine. I giggle.
Kip wipes his mouth and gives the other two an amused look. “When we were messaging yesterday, I asked Alice if she liked it hard. I was referring to sci-fi. It was a genuine mistake.”
They both burst out laughing.
“Yeah, yeah,” I tease. “I’m still not sure I believe you.”
“Jesus,” he says, “have pity on me. It took me about half an hour to stop cursing myself after that.”
I wink at him. “You poor old thing.”
“You think that’s bad,” Catie says, “last weekend, Saxon and I were at his parents’ house, and his Mum asked him what he was going to give me for Christmas, and he said a pearl necklace. I nearly spat my dinner across the table.”
“I did say that,” Saxon admits.
“Guys,” Kip says with exasperation, “I’m on a first date. You can’t just bring up things like that.”
“Alice started it,” Saxon points out.
