He nodded frantically and I laughed harder.
“You think it’s funny.”
“What was your first clue?” I bit in again and deliberately did a Meg Ryan style eyes-rolling-back expression just to make him lose his mind.
“Payback i
s a bitch.” His low, intimidating tone had me wiping my mouth with my napkin and reaching for my nonexistent glass of water. Guess Sage hadn’t thought of everything.
“Hey Jean,” he said to my passing coworker before I could find my voice. “Mind getting the lady a glass of water? She seems parched.”
“Seth. Didn’t see you sneak in here.” Jean smiled so widely that I was amazed Seth didn’t get sunstroke. She was sixty if she was a day, but he had that affect on women. All women.
Even me.
Especially me.
“Jean, it’s okay. I can go get it myself.” I started to rise from the booth, but Seth held out a hand, stopping me.
“Day off. Sit.”
I was too surprised by his authoritative tone to argue. More dominance from him, this time outside the bedroom. Just like that night he’d ordered for both of us at the Sherman Inn. It wasn’t as if I didn’t want my voice to be heard, but something about him occasionally taking charge worked for me.
Lord, I was fucked.
“It’s no trouble. Be right back.” Jean bustled toward the kitchen.
A moment later, Sage returned with my water, not Jean. She made a big production of setting it on the table and smiling at both of us, making enough small talk to set my teeth on edge.
“And look at that, didn’t realize y’all had come in too,” she said to Oliver and Mr. Hamilton at the next table. “Is Jean taking good care of you?”
“Not as good of care as you would, I’m sure.” I wasn’t positive, but I got the feeling Oliver winked at her, because she blushed twenty shades of red.
“Hamilton men are charmers. Why, they’d charm the panties off a woman before she knew otherwise.”
“You don’t wear panties. C’mon now.”
Mr. Hamilton cleared his throat and lifted his menu like a shield as he leaned forward to talk to Oliver. His smile dimmed, but only slightly.
Sage was still beet-red. “I do so wear panties. Not thongs either. Thongs ride up your crack. Ask Ally.”
Mid-picking off a slice of pickle to eat, I paused. I did not look at Seth. “Sage.”
“Just saying. Anyway, I gotta get back. Call me if you need anything.”
“Not fucking likely,” I said under my breath.
The moment she was gone, Seth leaned forward and mouthed, “You wear thongs?” Then he cocked his head, as if he was imagining what I had on under my denim capris.
I ignored him and popped my pickle into my mouth.
“Laurie’s birthday is next Saturday,” he said after a few moments of charged silence had passed between us. Oliver and their father were laughing quietly in the next booth, and Seth was eye-fucking me with enough force to have my clit pounding. It was kind of impressive, if I didn’t want him to stop.
Right now. This instant.
Okay, maybe tomorrow.
“She’s going to be four,” he added, as if I didn’t have the date circled and red-starred in my planner. “I want to have a big party. Will you help?”