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“You are.”
“I photoshop vibrators. It’s not the same.”
Timothy saves the day as he launches himself into the booth, kissing Mina like it’s been years instead of hours and putting an end to the conversation.
Nic’s standing next to me, hat pulled low, scarf still covering the lower half of his face, sunglasses still on. “Scoot,” he says in a quiet voice.
I slide deeper into the booth and Nic drops in next to me.
Timothy and Mina are whispering. I should say something to Nic, but he’s staring at his phone, so I don’t.
Something brushes my leg and I’m ready to shove him out of the booth, but I glance down first.
He sets a small box on my lap. Booze-filled fancy chocolates. My phone buzzes.
For the ride home. Put them in your handbag—they’ll melt in my pocket.
Unknown Number
How do you have my number?
me
I don’t know.I’vealways had it.
Unknown number
I slip the chocolates into my handbag because I’m keeping them. I might let Nic have one if he keeps his thick thighs on his side of the truck.
The waitress takes our order and Timothy sheds his outer layers and takes charge of the conversation. Something about a house they’re looking at.
“Are you going to eat lunch with your scarf wrapped around your face?” I finally ask Nic because it’s driving me nuts that he’s still all bundled up. No wonder he was worried about melting the chocolates.
He unwraps it without a word, setting it in the space between us.
I keep my mouth shut for five minutes. I don’t know why his discomfort is pissing me off, but it is. “Aren’t you hot?” I ask him, interrupting my brother.
“Sexiest Man in America.” Timothy chirps, raising his beer. Nic, with no expression whatsoever on his face, raises his bottle to tap Timothy’s.
I’m proud of myself when I don’t gag. “You’re going to get heatstroke.”
“It’s his disguise,” Timothy stage whispers.
I roll my eyes. “A smile would work better. Throw in a laugh, no one will recognize you.”
Nic turns to face me, pulling his sunglasses off so I get the full effect of his glare.
I circle my finger around his face. “Not a smile. Try again.”
His lips twitch before his hand covers them and he rubs his jaw to hide it.
“Jessica Foley,” my brother says in mock wonder. “I think you made Dominic Fontana smile.”
The sunglasses snap back in place and Nic glances around the restaurant. “Timothy. Shut up.”
This is ridiculous. “Get up.”
Nic doesn’t so I give his arm a push and finally he slides out of the booth. I slip past him and motion for him to take my place.
