“Better at it than I am,” he said. “Guess I’ll need to keep you by my side tonight.”
For once, she had no snarky retort, no smartass reply. She just stared at him, wondering at her quiet reaction, at the way her heart raced when she saw the hungry glow in his eyes.
Worried she might like it—like Tate—far too much.
Chapter Six
THERE WAS A salad course. A soup course came next—both the salad and soup were delicious, as were the homemade rolls prepared by Harper’s grandma—so when the main course finally rolled around, Tate was pretty full of food and beer.
Oh, and Wren. Beautiful, nonsnarky, teaching-him-how-to-be-a-classy-dude Wren. She instructed him on which piece of silverware to use next, whether he should pass to the left or right, and how much butter he should slather on the warm roll he’d attempted to slice open with a knife.
That was a no go, according to Wren. “Rip it open with your hands,” she instructed him, demonstrating with her own roll.
He’d like to rip something open with his hands—like her dress. Or hey, her panties would be fun to rip open. Would she ever let him try something like that?
Probably not, so he’d have to settle for the fantasy instead.
There were little candles on the table and the overhead chandelier was dimmed low. The light was mellow, as was the mood. All Tate could hear was the clink of silverware on very thin, white plates with little pink roses dotting the edges.
This fancy dinner had nothing to do with the potential pairing of him and Wren.
And no one was asking what was up either. Delilah and Lane spent most of the meal making lovey eyes at each other. To the point where Tate did his damnedest not to look in their direction for fear of feeling like he was spying on an intimate moment. Harper was the harried hostess, and Tate could tell it was driving West crazy.
Then there was Wren. Bluebird. Dove. She was fairly quiet, which he found unusual. There was a nervous edge to the air, one he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was there. Hovering in the room, making everyone cast wary glances at each other.
It was in between dinner and dessert, after the plates had been cleared and Harper was offering coffee to accompany the dessert, when West stood, grabbed hold of her hand, and demanded that she sit down.
“But I need to get the dessert,” she protested, looking flustered.
“Sit down, woman,” West commanded, and she did, her eyes wide as he knelt onto one knee in front of her.
“Oh my God,” Wren whispered, glancing over her shoulder to look at Tate. “What is he doing?” she squeaked.
Tate shrugged, though he had a feeling he knew exactly what was happening.
“It’s like you knew I had this planned so you put together an extra special dinner just for the occasion.” West grabbed hold of Harper’s hand and held it loosely in his own. “Baby, I love you.”
“I love you too.” She glanced around the room, her nervous gaze skipping over every one of them. “But you’re holding up dessert.”
“Dessert can wait. I need to ask you a question first.” West reached into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a ring with a giant, flashing diamond. “I know we’ve only been together for a short time, but I’ve known you all my life. I feel like I’ve loved you most of my life too. I don’t want to wait a proper amount of time—when I know, I know. And Harper, I know I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”
Tears sprang to Harper’s eyes as she murmured her answer just before she lunged for West, wrapping her arms around his neck as their mouths met in a sweet kiss.
“Don’t leave us hanging! What did she say?” Delilah asked, breaking the silence in the room.
West and Harper
pulled away from each other, Harper’s arms still around his neck. “She said yes,” he said.
Everyone started talking at once, Delilah clapping as she practically bounced out of her chair. Lane went to his brother, who stood with Harper clutched close to his side, and enveloped them both into a hug. West mentioned champagne, and Delilah went to get it from the kitchen.
Wren never said a word. She remained completely still in her chair, her hands clutching the edge of the table, her head bent, as if she was staring at something particularly fascinating. Tate wanted to say something to her, ask her if she was all right, but what if she wasn’t? What would he do then?
Instead he stood and went to West and Harper, offering his friend a congratulatory handshake and embracing Harper until West told him to let go of his fiancée. Which made Harper dissolve into near hysterical giggles, and they hadn’t even popped open the champagne yet.
The night had taken a weird but happy turn.
Wren finally pushed her chair away from the table and approached the newly engaged happy couple, the tremulous smile curling her lips making Tate nervous. She hugged both West and Harper, quietly told them both she was so happy for them. She lingered in the room, her smile strained, her eyes sad. He wanted to go to her, wanted to say something, offer her comfort, whatever he could. But she’d probably just turn him away.