The Consequence of Seduction (Consequence 3)

People were already starting to stare, not enough to take pictures and give us a few choice hashtags like #pottedplantsforthewin, but enough that if Reid didn’t do something awesome within the next few minutes I was going to resort to flashing someone.

I took the two straws from my drink in between my teeth and chomped. “Reid, you’re an actor. Being in the public eye is part of the job.”

“I get that,” Reid hissed. “I just don’t do public displays of affection . . .”

“Well.” I slammed my hand against his chest. “You’re going to have to learn, and fast. I promised media fireworks, so find your groove, Stella.”

“What exactly did you promise them?” His eyes narrowed into tiny accusing slits while I greedily searched for a napkin to pat down my suddenly clammy hands.

“Romance.” I shrugged a shoulder and twisted the straws with my fingers. “Fairy tale romance.”

“Shit.”

“Ah, there’s a good start. Real great, Reid. Shit does not scream love!”

“Reservation?” the hostess asked. She was wearing all black, her hair was pulled back into a tight low ponytail, and I could have sworn she actually hissed the word reservation before taking in both my and Reid’s outfits.

“Litwright,” I said through clenched teeth while she continued to check Reid out longer than necessary. Animal possessiveness washed over me before I managed to gain control of my emotions and put one foot in front of the other instead of cheerfully up her ass.

“Right this way.”

“Creepy smile alert,” Reid said under his breath. “Good job wearing your emotions on your sleeve, Joker. I can almost feel your need to bitch slap the poor thing.”

I waved him off, dropping the smile and returning to business mode.

Reid put his hand on my lower back as we walked toward the middle of the restaurant, a prime location for him to do something epic. Though his epic and my epic were two very different things. For the love of cheese. Roses?

Reid held out my chair while the hostess placed a napkin on my lap.

“Chew that straw any harder and you’re going to get plastic on your teeth,” Reid joked, taking his seat.

“Your dining companion will be with you shortly,” the hostess said in a seductive voice, aimed directly at Reid.

“Companion?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Sorry.” Sorry, my ass, she sounded anything but sorry. “What lower-end restaurants call a waiter.”

“Oh.” Reid pressed his lips together while I tried not to bark out a laugh. “How . . . lucky for us.”

She nodded and walked off.

Reid shook his head over the menu. “We get a companion tonight. Wonder if they charge extra for a happy ending? Dessert?”

“No,” a cultured British accent announced. “We do, however, charge for food, so if you can’t afford to eat here, I suggest you take your drinks to the bar and enjoy some peanuts.”

“Allergic,” Reid coughed into his hand, hiding his laugh. He eyed the short man up and down before turning his attention to me. “Is rudeness part of the experience?”

The man huffed.

I nodded. “I think the accents are extra as well.”

Our waiter—or companion—started turning red.

Reid grinned. “A bottle of your house wine. Wouldn’t want to go broke in such a fancy place, shucks.” So apparently Reid was now from Texas. “I just wish Grandpop could see all the fancy folk. It’s a treat, a real treat!”

I had to look at my menu to keep from bursting out laughing.

“If that will be all for now?” Our companion snorted. I glanced at his name tag.

“Fred.” I nodded. “Thanks, Fred, we’ll also start with the calamari.”

“Gah!” Reid hit his hand on his jeans. “Don’t suppose you got some crawfish to wet my whistle too?”

“Crawfish,” Fred repeated. “Yes, I’ll go check with the cook. Perhaps he fetched some out of the gutter.”

“You’re a real gem.” Reid winked. Then, honest to God, he slapped the waiter’s ass as he walked off.

I reached for my drink. Empty.

“I think it’s an Emory thing.” I shook my head. “Needing alcohol to numb the experience.”

“Aw, you really wanna numb this, sugar?” Reid winked and tilted back the rest of his drink, then slammed it onto the table. “Didn’t you want a scene?”

“Romantic scene!” I threw my hands into the air. “Not a cameo on Nashville!”

Reid’s eyes lit up.

“I was kidding.”

Reid stood.

“Reid, sit down.”

Reid didn’t sit.

“You said you were shy!” I hissed.

“But I’m acting . . .” Reid grinned. “And right now . . .” He leaned over the table, pressing his hands on either side of me and kissed the top of my head. “I’m auditioning for the role of a lifetime, right? So, big gestures.” He stood straight. “Watch. Me.”

Panic turned into full-blown fear as Reid made his way around the table, pulled out one of the chairs, and then tugged me to my feet only to pull me into his lap.

My knee hit the table, knocking over a wineglass. Thank the wine gods it was empty.

Not that it mattered.

People were already staring.

This was NOT going the way it was supposed to.