I reach into my pocket for my wallet and scroll through the apps on my phone for a ride, picking my poison as I pay my tab.
“No way,” Fiona protests, holding my card like it’s her hostage. “We finally got you to ourselves and you’re leaving?”
Wyatt slings a friendly arm over my shoulder. “He’s not going anywhere. Once Seamus finds out you were in the pub, he’ll flip. As in, he’ll be jealous I’m here and he’s not. No one’s been jealous of me in years. Not since my calendar days. Don’t take this away from me, man.”
I feel a wide smile form at his earnest request. He’s clearly the goofy puppy of the family. And he’s bonded to Fiona, so what she wants, he wants too. “I shouldn’t.”
I really shouldn’t. My attraction to Carter is a neon sign pointing to probable humiliation and inescapable sexual frustration. It would probably surprise my readers if they knew how inept I truly am at social interaction. That’s one of the reasons I write about sex and relationships more than I participate.
JD gets high marks for observation. Participation? Not recommended.
“You should,” Ken insists, guiding me over to a nearby table before I can resist. “And we’re covering your tab. It isn’t every day we get a chance to hang out with a local celebrity.”
“Says the high-tech genius engaged to the senator’s ex-body man.” I snort and collapse into a chair closest to the wall, thinking about how strange this night is turning out to be.
Tanaka’s smile is sharp and curious. “You’ve got us over a barrel, Green. You know all about us—excluding Carter, of course—but we don’t know enough about you. Except now I can say you look younger than I thought you would, and you’re almost as pretty as Brady’s brother, Rory.”
He and I both know he could change that information imbalance in less than three minutes with his smartphone. With his skills he’d know what color underwear I’m wearing, and I swear I can’t even remember what I put on at this point.
“He’s got nicer hair,” Wyatt offers up generously. “And he’s nowhere near as arrogant.”
“Who would be with his history?” Brady teases. “There’s another thing we know. You have shit taste in men and you can’t get laid to save your life. But that’s not exactly a state secret, is it?”
I don’t respond to the gentle jab because Carter chooses that moment to sit down beside me, close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from his body. The heat he’s giving off burns my skin and I press my hand to my cheek. Maybe I’m coming down with something.
“Until recently, you weren’t exactly known for picking winners yourself.” Is Carter defending me? But Brady doesn’t seem to mind, nodding agreeably before slipping an arm around his fiancé.
“I had a nice long dry spell because of it too, so I can relate.”
Ken whispers something in Brady’s ear that has the ginger’s chest rumbling with subdued laughter. Then he glances over at me again. “Speak, friend. Tell us your secrets.”
My secret is I’m wondering what Ken’s boyfriend would say if he knew that the only man I could imagine tasting right now is the one he admires. The mentor of masculinity that made him cry.
The one who is scooting his chair right up against mine until I’m trapped between his furnace of a body and the wall. Is he trying to block my escape?
Like I’d want to get away.
“I’m an open book.” And that higher pitch I’m speaking in must have something to do with the combination of tight pants and a full erection. Hopefully it doesn’t cause lasting damage. I cough and lower my voice. “An overly wordy technical manual, really. One you only read when you’re trying to find a cure for insomnia.”
His soft chuckle has me shifting in my chair. “Doubt that.”
Two words and I’m hot butter. Melted. Spreadable.
I meet his gaze. “That I’m boring? Believe me, it’s true. Ask the guy who left less than an hour ago.”
Carter stops smiling.
What did I say?
“Don’t listen to JD,” Fiona says, shattering the tension. “He’s overly cautious and too nice as a rule, but I would never call him boring. That guy was an ass.”
“Always trust Fiona’s judgment about people. So sayeth Seamus.” Brady’s grin widens as he takes in Carter’s seating arrangements. “If she tells us your work date was an ass, we believe her, right Carter?”
“Ask me. I saw it first hand, and the ass was strong with that one.” Wyatt sets down a fresh beer for himself and straddles a chair on Carter’s other side, leaning around him to catch my eye. “All right then, open book. How does a not-boring, overly cautious single guy with your dating record decide to become an advice columnist? Tell us everything.”