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“Let’s not talk about that today either,” I quip.
“That good, huh?” he says as the waiter drops off our tray.
For a few minutes, we simply focus on eating. The New Orleans cuisine is delicious, and the atmosphere is like coming up for air. After we’ve consumed the jambalaya and red beans and rice, he pushes the beignets toward me—fried rectangle pastries, blanketed in powdered sugar.
“Mmm,” I moan, taking a bite. “These are fantastic. They taste exactly like a funnel cake from our small county fair back home.”
Liam laughs. “Christ. Don’t let the French guy in the back hear you say that. You’ll get us banned. I can’t take you anywhere, High Society.”
“Can’t call me High Society when I’m in a ball cap and Aerosmith T-shirt. It doesn’t fit,” I correct.
He yanks on the bill. “You’re cute like this. Messy.”
This moment is cloaked with a haze of intimacy, and while it’s only friendship on my end—because I’m currently obsessed with the domineering man who seems to be avoiding me—I hope that’s all it is for Liam.
My heart rate spikes with a feeling of guilt. “How mad will Wells be if he finds out we came here?”
“Combustible.”
Not easing the guilt.
I push the pastry aside. “So, why did you do it? Why bring me here?”
“Because none of this is your fault, Ivy. But there’s also no stopping it.”
I’m not sure what he means by that. All of these men make me feel like I’m half asleep, missing vital information. “I really appreciate this, but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“I don’t get in trouble. I cause it. Big difference.” His eyes twinkle, but then he scratches his scruff with a seriousness. “If it ever comes down to it, you throw me under the bus to save yourself.”
Irritation and confusion pump through me. “What the hell does that mean? With Wells?”
He leans into me. “With anyone.”
Is this some sort of weird trust test?“No. You’re a smart-ass, but I’m kinda fond of you. That’s not how I work, Liam.”
“Start, Ivy.” He exhales, and a frustration I’ve never seen in him stiffens his shoulders. “Start thinking like a survivor and start listening to Wells.Fuck, by all means, give him shit. God knows it’s about time he met his match, and I’m here for it. I just wanted you to hear it from me because you don’t seem to need to fight me oneverything. So, cooperate. Okay? The four of us will do whatever it takes for you. This outing was my little gift, one last hurrah because everything changes when we go back.”
“What the hell is going on, Liam? I don’t understand … any of that.”
“You don’t need to yet,” he replies cryptically.
I drop my face into my hands. My head still aches, and now, I’m riddled with anxiety, not sure if I should break the tension, bolt, or retreat into hiding. He’s trying to reveal something, and while the details are vague, his message is equal parts protective and terrifying.
“You sure know how to kill a good time,” I mutter.
He lifts my chin, smiling. “Sorry. That’s not me. Hell, Iamthe good time. I had a long night. Must’ve fucked me up and made me a pain in the ass like Wells. Won’t happen again.”
While I don’t feel relieved, that makes me laugh, and I don’t have the energy for anything else today. “I’ll let it slide. Lack of sleep will do that. Can we get some beignets to take back for the guys?”
His brows furrow. “It’s not a secret excursion if we bring back evidence.”
“Food is the way to Gage’s good graces though. He probably loves these.” I fold my hands into a plea.
“This is about the Big Guy?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I mean, I’ll get some for Ty and Wells too. But I have a hunch Gage is a dick because someone screwed him over. It’s my mission to fuck with his head by making him like me.”
Liam howls. “That’s a good reason to show up with beignets. I’m in.”
