Next to me, Caleb begins coughing on the beer he’d been about to take a swig of, like it’s gone down the wrong pipe, and I pat him on the back gregariously. Sputtering, his beer glass clangs on the table as the new arrivals approach us.
“Chelsea! Molly! What are you guys doing here?” I ask, rising from my chair and hugging them in greeting. Caleb turns to glare hostilely at Weston and Stephan.
“Yeah, guys, what are you doing here?” His voice comes out in a clipped, angry tone, and his now thundering eyes are narrowed into murderous slits.
He’s so pissed.
The entire group moves past us, and I hear Caleb hissing under his breath, “You dickwads did this on purpose.”
“Yup.” I hear Stephan chuckle as he strolls by with his cocky gait.
The group moves to the service counter. They register, order drinks, then move across the room to the sink area to get their painting supplies. I run my palm over Caleb’s tense shoulders to soothe him, and his body retracts, relaxing instantly from my touch.
“Hey, it’s fine. Let’s just pretend they’re not here.” Resisting the urge to kiss him, I hop back on my stool and grab a paintbrush.
“They knew I was bringing you here,” Caleb mutters with what looks like a pout. “I should have known this would happen. They’re never going to let me get you alone. I have no privacy.”
Poor guy looks miserable.
I look back to our group of friends in the back of the room and swallow my snicker. They’re goofing off, and it’s pretty hilarious. Stephan is holding a wine glass, his pinky finger sticking in the air, overdramatically oozing class while Chelsea smacks him in the arm repeatedly, already lecturing him to “grow up.” My eyes also catch Weston smacking Molly in the butt, shouting, “Hee Yah!” before taking a dry paint brush and whisking it around her face, leering at her with a loud, “Just be glad it’s not my pee pee.”
She slaps him away with a loud laugh.
Oh boy.
Bravely, in a show of solidarity, I scoot my stool closer to Caleb’s. He immediately spreads his thighs so our legs touch and flexes his fingers over my thigh, rubbing his palm up and down over my jeans. We automatically—as if compelled by gravitational force—lean into each other, our lips touching briefly.
All I can say is wow!
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Moving a little fast for a first date, don’t you think? Better slam on those brakes. And keep your grabby mitts where I can see them.” Stephan stands behind us, holding a wine glass, a beer, and a can of paint, his remarks directed at me. My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline as he leans in to say, “Yeah, I’m talking to you, Ms. Grabby Hands.”
I want to die.
Chelsea walks up, mortified. “Oh my gosh, I’m so, so sorry, Abby. Stephan, go back to our chairs and leave them be.” She grabs him by the arm and drags him to a nearby table.
He casts a glance over his shoulder at me and winks.
When Molly and Weston walk by with their supplies, Weston leans over and pokes Caleb in the nose with the tip of his paintbrush. “Boop!”
I can’t stop it; a burst of giggles bubbles up from deep inside and sneaks out.
“You think that’s amusing, huh?” Caleb mutters, watching me squirt some blue paint onto the pallet we’re sharing with a huge grin on my face. I add green, red, then white, before dabbing my brush into the water jar, blotting it on a rag.
“Oh, it was definitely amusing.” I beam up at him. “The look on your face was like a surprised dog getting his nose batted by a kitty cat paw.” I swipe at him and hiss. “Meow.”
Then something remarkable happens. Wait for it. Wait…
Caleb’s eyes crinkle, his head tips back, and a peel of laughter bursts out of him.
Laughing—he is laughing.
I can’t even do the sound justice. It’s an unhindered reaction; the baritone notes rumble out of his chest and are rich with emotion.
Caught off guard, I stare wide-eyed like deer in headlights at the long column of his corded neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he chokes out the deep roar, and his shoulders shaking. I catch glimpses of his gap and gleaming white teeth before he bites down on his bottom lip, and I want to tackle him off the stool, to the ground, and do naughty, naughty things to him.
Did you hear me? To. The. Ground.
Naughty, naughty things.
And this is me we’re talking about here. Ugh.
I look away to hide my furious blush, clearing my throat to disguise the fact that my thoughts have gone from only slightly lascivious to downright dirty. My nerves are creating absolute chaos to my lady parts. My body and mind are completely and utterly messed up—just from the sight of his unexpected laughter!