Thirteen
QUINN
I held onto her arm as we crossed the street.
“Seriously?” she said.
“Yes. It’s dark and icy, and I can’t have my love bug slipping and falling and hurting her precious little ass. I’ll do that myself.”
She sighed heavily. “Fine. Please just stop calling me love bug.”
I granted her nothing but a smile. Inside the restaurant, she tried moving away from me and crossing her arms, but I didn’t let her. Taking her hand, we approached the host together, who led us back to a corner booth where three women sat.
I recognized two of them as Claire and Margot, Jaime’s friends from high school, but the third I didn’t know. All three jaws dropped as we approached.
“Ladies,” I said. “Thank you so much for letting me join you tonight. I know how much my sweet pea values her girl time. It’s one of the first things she told me about herself.” For effect, I kissed the back of Jaime’s hand again while she threw knives at me with her eyes. Then I turned to the table and pulled off my gloves, sticking them in my pockets. “Quinn Rusek,” I said, holding my hand out to the woman I didn’t recognize, who was seated on the end.
“Elyse Martin.” She shook it, her dark eyes wide. “Nice to meet you.”
Next to her was Claire, whose curly red hair fell in ringlets over one shoulder. “Claire, good to see you again. And happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” She looked back and forth from me to Jaime, clearly confused. “Glad you could make it.”
“And Margot, how are you?” I greeted the striking, willowy blonde next to Claire.
“Good.” She regarded me with amusement in her eyes, almost like she was in on the joke, and I wondered if Jaime had spoken to her about me today.
“Have a seat,” Claire said, gesturing across from her. “Please.”
I turned to Jaime. “Can I take your coat, honeybun?”
She peeled off her gloves, angrily shoving them in her pockets. “Yes, thank you,” she said through her teeth as she unbuttoned her coat.
I took it off her shoulders. “I’ll be right back. You won’t even miss me.”
“You got that right,” she muttered, plunking down in an empty chair across from her friends. “Is there a cocktail menu?”
Spying the coatracks in a room just beyond the bar, I hurried over and hung up Jaime’s coat as w
ell as my own. While I was out of sight, I posted the photo of Jaime and me in the car to my Instagram account, chuckling at how perfect it was. She had sort of a what the fuck is that smell expression on her face, whereas I was grinning ear to ear. Off to a great start, I captioned it. I gave it three hashtags: #sweetpea #firstdate #loveisreal.
Oh, God. She was going to kill me. This was way too much fun.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I went back to the table and took the seat next to Jaime, making a big deal about dragging the chair over to be closer to hers. She was reading the cocktail menu and scooted her chair farther away, but I just moved mine again. I looked across the table at her friends’ faces, and every one of them was trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
A server appeared. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll take a Sazerac,” Jaime answered.
“Good idea, snookums.” I put my arm around her shoulders and nodded at the server. “She’s always so smart. I’ll have the same.”
The server promised to be back shortly with our drinks, and I turned to the women across the table. “So catch me up, ladies. I haven’t seen you in years.” I kept my arm around Jaime and could just imagine the look on her face.
Margot cleared her throat. “Well, I work for my father, doing PR and special events for the philanthropic arm of his corporation.”
“Nice. Are you married? Single?”
“Not married, but I’ve been dating my boyfriend Tripp for about three years.”