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Avery’s espresso eyes flicker as he looks down at me and then sends Wyatt the dirtiest look over my shoulder, his cute little cheeks turning a cute little shade of pink.
“My, my, Mr. Beck,” I whisper, batting my lashes up at him for full effect. I trail the tip of my finger over his high cheekbone, feeling the warm skin there. “You’re not blushing, are you?”
And because he’s Avery Beck, cocky son of a bitch, his gaze narrows for only a second before his coy smile slides right back into place. He dips his face until his lips just barely brush mine. “You don’t wanna play this game with me, Miss Thompson. I’ll win.”
Oh, but I think I do want to play.
“Alright!” Wyatt exclaims, clapping his hands and, thankfully, breaking up this very private but somehow public moment. He picks up a glass of champagne and inclines his head toward the one sitting in front of me. “Shall we raise a toast? To old friends, new friends, and exciting business ventures that are going to make some of us here very, very rich.” He smirks at that last statement, and we all raise our glasses, toasting each other with big grins and matched excitement.
Avery holds my gaze while we tip our drinks back, the bubbles in the champagne giving me the feels right in the pit of my stomach and, unfortunately, in an irritating spot in my chest which should definitely not be feeling a single thing right now.
Dinner goes off without a hitch, and I don’t know if I’m happy or disappointed to say that I’m having a really freaking great time by the time our food arrives an hour later. I contemplated the menu for an entire fifteen minutes, humming and hawing between filet mignon and the lobster trio. I decided on the steak, but when the waiter drops the lobster trio in front of Avery and one of them is wrapped in spicy soppressata, I feel like I’ve made a huge mistake.
“Stop eyeing my food,” Avery murmurs while he dips a piece of lobster in an intoxicating aroma of garlicky-lemony melted butter. I lift my eyes to his mouth and watch him chew, mesmerized by the way his tongue flicks out to drag along those generous lips, licking up the glossy sheen from the butter. He moans, eyes falling shut. “So good.”
When he opens his eyes to wink at me, my face splits into a grin. I reach forward and pinch his side. “You’re doing that to make me jealous.”
He chuckles softly and the next thing I know, he’s shoving half of his meal onto my plate and cutting my steak, lifting one half to his plate.
“What are you doing?”
“Sharing.” He checks out the inside of my steak and groans in approval. “A rare beef girl, eh? After my own heart.” He cuts a chunk off and pops it in his mouth, humming.
I smile to myself and shake my head. I don’t know about this guy. It’s a shame he doesn’t date; I’m starting to think he’d actually make a good boyfriend. For someone else. Not for me. Obviously.
He sets the melted butter between our plates. I swirl the lobster tail in it and toss it in my mouth. It dissolves against my tongue, my mouth erupting with flavor so intense and delicious it makes my head spin. I moan and tip sideways, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“Sweet mother of God.”
Avery looks down at me with a wide smile and bright eyes that dance in the glow of the dim lights. “Amazing, right?”
“It looks like they’re dating,” I hear Casey say.
“Agreed. But your sister is stubborn as hell,” Charlee responds.
My cheeks flame and I back up, away from Avery. He shakes his head and pours me another glass of champagne, shoving it into my hands.
“Drink this and stop giving a shit about what people say. You’re having a good time. Just let it happen.”
When I hesitate, Avery lifts the glass to my lips, and when that bubbly liquid slips down my throat, tingling on its way down into my belly, I decide to take his advice and stop putting so much weight into everything. I’m with my friends, I’m eating a fabulous meal and drinking expensive champagne, and I’m enjoying myself. I’m going to keep enjoying myself, because—why the hell not? I’ve been in a sheltered, miserable relationship for far too long.
So when Avery stands opposite me at a ping pong table an hour-and-a-half later, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, eyes narrowed playfully at me, the trash talk just rolls so damn naturally off my tongue.
“Ready to get spanked by a girl?”
“Baby, if you’re the girl, I’ll let you spank me all night long.”
I don’t even care that my brother is at the next table and can clearly hear us. He doesn’t look like he’s listening anyway. That or he doesn’t care. He’s too wrapped up in everything that is Charlee Williams. They’re teasing each other relentlessly while they smash the ping pong ball back and forth.
“Can’t take your eyes off me, can you, little Miss Strawberry?” Avery asks smugly, watching the way I’m biting my lip, my brow quirking at his flexing muscles as he spins the paddle in his hand. “I hope I’m not too much of a distraction for you.”
“Just looking at the man I’m about to put in the ground.” I settle in and throw a glance at Dex and Wyatt who are watching us, looking rightfully entertained. Dex knows which way this is going to go. He’s spent many years on the opposite end of a table much like this, wearing a sorry expression. “Get your popcorn ready, gentlemen. I’m about to make a show of Mr. Beck.”
They laugh, and so does Avery. He actually has to stop mid-serve to drop his head and compose himself before he looks back up at me. It makes me smile so hard.
“Quit being so arrogant,” he says, sending the ball over the table.
I smack it back quickly. “I’m not arrogant. I’m good.”
